by Mark Tufo
The first thing on Brook’s agenda was to find Mike Desantos and ask him if he knew anything of Cade’s whereabouts. She also had an irresistible urge to get out into the fight. This constant running and gunning had awakened something in her she didn’t know existed. She craned her neck struggling to hear the new sounds outside of the door. Brook abruptly grabbed her daughter by the arm, shouldered the door open, burst out of their room and propelled her down the hall to where Carl was. The fusillade of automatic rifle fire sounded different, almost frantic. Dedicated, highly trained soldiers didn’t lose their cool and “spray and pray.”
They barged into the infirmary and Brook frantically yanked the IV tubes from her brother’s arm. The sounds of the battle were drawing nearer and the undead’s moaning was increasing in volume. Brook tried to wake Carl but he remained unresponsive. Shadows passed by the opaque green glass in the door and then stopped, wavering directly in front. Raven started whimpering; Brook pulled her close and clamped a hand over her mouth. Wild eyed and hyperventilating, she squirmed from her mom’s grip and bolted for the hallway screaming. Brook suddenly became aware of the odor of rotting flesh overpowering the usual antiseptic hospital smell. The door burst inward followed by a torrent of decomposing corpses. They fell atop Raven, teeth gnashing, gnarled hands ripping the flesh from her face, exposing muscle, molars and jawbone. Blood pulsed onto the floor from hundreds of shredded capillaries. The room teemed with undead and they quickly turned their attention to the unarmed Brook. She braced herself and stood her ground in front of her unconscious and helpless brother.
A shrill horn sounded. Brook awoke abruptly. Her chest heaved and she fought to breathe; beads of sweat cascaded from her face. Her thin hospital bed sheet was soaked through. Frantically she felt around in the dark and noisily exhaled when she felt the warmth of her daughter stir next to her. The nightmare was gone but the blaring klaxon was real.
Someone banged repeatedly on the door. Brook shook the sleep from her head, jumped to her feet and answered it.
The very pregnant Annie Desantos, her two young daughters flanking her, stood at the door’s threshold and without entering told Brook and Raven the base was being evacuated.
“Are we leaving by air or land?” Brook queried her.
“Helicopters are inbound from Fort Campbell, women and children are assembling for evacuation first.”
“I have to go get Carl. He’s down the hall in the recovery ward. Can I leave Raven with you?”
Shaking her head, Annie said “No need, we’re all going to the parade ground together. Chinooks are inbound to evac the wounded. Don’t worry; the medical crew assured me they would accompany him.”
“Raven, get your stuff. Annie, give us two minutes.” Brook checked her phone once again. No bars, no message, no nothing. She sighed and threw the phone into her tote. They left the room hand in hand, following Annie and the girls. Cade was on Brook’s mind.
Fort Bragg was severely undermanned. Three-fourths of the active duty warfighters and base staff didn’t return when they were recalled. A large contingent of Special Forces troops were still on deployment in Afghanistan and other unnamed places around the world.
During the night thousands of walking dead had encircled the entire perimeter. There were so many crushing together at the north gate, the cars and trucks left by the wire were being slowly compacted into the base of the fence. The orange Raptor precariously perched atop the Hummer2 finally succumbed to gravity and toppled to the ground, crushing a small number of the infected. The whole base was about to fall. Their sheer numbers were staggering. It was only a matter of time before they breached the fencing.
The steady thumping of the dual rotor blade Chinooks helped drown out the sounds of the dead. While Brook was deep in the middle of her nightmare, their numbers had increased. The noise coming from their lifeless throats became an intolerable sonic tempest.
Annie had raided the shooting range for earplugs. Brook and Raven each had a pair of the little foam rubber plugs firmly embedded in their ears. Unfortunately they didn’t keep out all of the noise.
Brook followed Annie and her girls along finely manicured paths that crisscrossed the base between buildings. Rotor wash and the accompanying flying debris blasted them as they rounded the corner. Shielding their faces with their hands, they approached the twin rotor behemoths, ducking instinctively. Annie and the girls took the last three spots in the crowded Chinook; they were sitting on the floor; nearby the loadmaster manned the mounted M240 machine gun.
Brook waved as the ramp partially lifted up. The hurricane-like winds increased as the helicopter powered up and rose into the sky. A soldier informed the waiting families that the next sortie of three helos was inbound and three minutes out.
The group of women and children nervously eyed the monsters crushing in on the perimeter fence. Ammunition was dangerously low; the troops had stopped shooting the undead outside of the wire. Everyone prayed the fencing would hold up for another hour or two until the evacuation was complete.
The front fence failed first and the dead surged into the garrison parking lot. The first wave of them quickly overtook and consumed the guards and high ranking personnel in the nearby command post. Their screams were drowned out by the undead’s eerie moaning.
Above the parade ground a large caliber rifle boomed from the guard tower. It was rhythmic and directed across the base to the south. The gunfire further aroused the dead and they started surging against the weakened barrier. Right on time the three CH-47 Chinooks thundered over the wire, flaring at the last second and softly settling to the ground. Rear and side doors opened up and the crew chiefs beckoned the people to hurry onboard.
The force of the surging undead finally caused the total failure of the perimeter fence. The sound of groaning metal preceded the collapse of the nearest guard tower. It listed and then toppled to the ground; the lone shooter went with it. Like piranhas the ghouls stripped the flesh from Jack Bowers’ exposed extremities. Bloody hands reached under the ceramic-plated body armor and greedily scooped the soft organs from his abdomen. One of the dead picked up his rifle and peered down the still smoking barrel, determined it wasn’t food and discarded it.
The rotor blades picked up speed; Brook sensed they weren’t going to get aboard. She wondered if the nightmare had been a premonition of her death. A soldier fell ten feet from her, two of the monsters rending pieces of meat from his flailing arms and legs; he was close enough that Brook could hear his anguished wailing. The man lay still, his rifle near his body. She covered the ten feet in seconds and had the rifle in her hands before she was aware of her actions. The M4 barked twice, and the feeding creatures slumped atop their meal. More of them were now flanking the helicopter to the right. Taking careful aim with the weapon, Brook finished the nearest advancing walkers, dropping four in quick succession. With Raven in tow she boarded the hovering Chinook through the open side door. The monsters were grasping onto the rear ramp. The soldier manning the M240 now had a clear field of fire and started hammering away at them, the machine gun’s report reminding Brook of a buzz saw ripping through wood. Rotor wash blew hot shell casings into the fuselage. A severely decomposed ghoul reached in and got ahold of Raven’s ankle. Brook poked the M4s barrel past her daughter’s body and emptied the last nine rounds into its head and chest. The zombie released its grip, fell twenty feet and disappeared into the sea of rotting corpses.
The Chinook left terra firma underneath it, nosed down and buzzed the building tops narrowly missing the south guard tower.
Not everyone made it out alive. The last helicopter to land took on passengers but the undead got aboard as well. The aviators lost control of the Chinook while trying to escape the attack. It took flight momentarily and then pitched over and rolled several times, pieces of rotor blade and bodies, human and undead, showering the parade grounds. Like army ants, thousands of the infected swarmed the few survivors that weren’t killed outright in the violent crash. Fort Bragg fell to the dea
d three days after the Omega virus was released in the United States.
Chapter 165
Day 3 - 19th Special Forces Garrison, Draper, Utah
“God damn, they got that place lit up like Wrigley Field during a night game. Only I doubt they’ve got any peanuts… popcorn or crackerjacks.”
Cade grinned. He kind of liked the pilot’s gallows humor.
The base was visible for fifteen miles around.
“What you see is Camp Williams, 19th Special Forces garrison. Look for the parade ground or a training field for a landing spot, both should be lighted.”
Duncan piped up over the intercom. “My boy, they have got that base so lit up, I don’t think there is a nook or cranny where a shadow could hide.”
Harry felt the Black Hawk slow and Duncan start the descent. It was evident why the base was awash in light.
“Holy mother of God” Harry exclaimed.
Cade had seen the same thing but his reaction was not a verbal one. By his estimation, there were hundreds of the creatures trapped in a massive trench running the length of the garrison. The closer they got to the parade ground the better he felt about what he was seeing. A blinding flash, followed by licking flames made Cade wince and cover his eyes. When he regained a semblance of normal night vision he could see multitudes of burning undead. The ghoul-filled slit carved into the earth was hard to comprehend.
“Hope y’all brought you some mustard… because we got us a weenie roast.”
“Duncan, those used to be people. Can’t you take this a bit more seriously? Maybe find a little sympathy for them?”
“Not a shred, Harry old boy. That’s why I’m not going to be one of those critter’s dinner. As we used to say in Nam, kill em all and let God sort em out.”
As the Black Hawk made firm contact with the ground a shiver ran through the airframe.
“Been awhile hasn’t it?”
“Cade, this ain’t like riding a bicycle. The relearning curve is much steeper. Give me a few more hours and I’ll have this whore doing back flips and landing on feathers.”
Thinking he was stuck with a couple of frat boys, Harry muttered under his breath, “I’m through with you two jokers.”
Duncan kept the rotorblades turning just in case they needed to effect a quick escape. Cade jumped out and sauntered, head ducked under the whirling rotor blades, towards the group of armed men heading his way. He knew the garrison commander from when he was with the 19th at Fort Lewis. Major Greg Beeson was a straight shooter (literally). He had trained snipers earlier in his career. They exchanged salutes and Cade asked him about the moat around the base.
“We had our engineers carve the trench with the dozers. When enough of the dead are assembled, a couple of boom boxes are set up near the pit, usually blaring heavy metal. They really love Metallica.”
“That’s what I call asymmetrical warfare,” Cade quipped.
“It’s pretty straight forward. They come in waves for some reason and so far they are pretty predictable. All we do is give it some time, and like lemmings, they do the rest.”
They walked and talked. Cade explained how they came to possess the helicopter and who his travelling companions were, finishing with the bad news about Boise and the Air Guard base there. Cade cut to the chase and told his old instructor about his missing family and his unstoppable desire to locate them. Major Beeson informed Cade they had intercepted a call for help from Fort Bragg; it had been broadcast over the entire net. The base had been compromised and overrun. He didn’t know about casualties, or how many had gotten out alive. The message gave no hint as to where the survivors, if any, were relocating to. After a long conversation Beeson indicated Cade could use any of the base assets to further his mission.
The Major offered sanctuary to Duncan and Harry. He told the aviator that he was welcome and his expertise was greatly needed. B Company was on deployment in Afghanistan when hell opened up and the dead arrived. Only half of C Company was able to return. Major Beeson was confident the base could hold its own as long as all of the undead residents of Draper didn’t come calling. Duncan agreed to stay on, “For love of country” as he put it. Harry intended to leave at first light; he was feeling lonely, useless and a little restless. Not good for an old man’s psyche.
Duncan ignored Cade’s outstretched hand and instead embraced him in a surprise bear hug. Cade reciprocated, looked the old warhorse in the eyes and said a simple “Thanks.”
Chapter 166
Day 3 - Sawtooth Mountains of Idaho
Mountain Man Dan, as the Stanley locals called him, pressed the binoculars to his face. He lived a solitary life up in the craggy Sawtooth Mountains. The area of the forest he called home was near an alpine lake at five thousand feet; he had been living here in the wild for the last sixteen years. Life had started closing in on him, or so he felt. It was too much for the old Vietnam vet to handle, when a sitting United States President got a hummer in the Oval Office and not a thing untoward happened to him. The bastard was even determined to grab for the guns of law abiding citizens while he tarnished the office and thumbed his nose at the Constitution. So Dan took his books and his guns and found his little slice of heaven.
He was in his element in the wilderness. Dan was a very patient and observant man. He always noticed anything out of the ordinary, and he had noticed that for the last three days there had been no air traffic. His first inclination was that the United States had suffered another 9/11 type terrorist attack.
The hike down to the small town usually took him four hours; a younger man could tackle it in two. The finger of rock he was perched on was only five feet across but it allowed him to stop and observe the last mile of the mountain trail he would have to descend.
The noises coming from below caught his attention before he even arrived at his usual resting spot. Gunfire echoed up from the Aryan Brotherhood camp. Dan witnessed the murder of four human beings in cold blood. The three men and a woman were dirty and shabbily dressed. One of the armed men released them from a building that looked like a tool shed or chicken coop. The four captives lurched into the middle of the compound. The shaved head, combat boot wearing skins were hooting and hollering while they stood in a semi-circle around the four people. Dan had a strong suspicion they were drugged because they staggered towards the assembled men in a lethargic, clumsy manner. He wasn’t prepared for what happened next. The towering redhead stood apart from the rest. He pulled out a big chrome pistol and coldly shot the woman in the head. She fell to the dirt and ceased moving. The captive men didn’t try to run, they just kept walking towards the pointed guns. As quick as it started it was over, AK-47s chattered and the three men dropped and sprawled on the ground, their blood turning the gravel black.
Dan wanted to go to town and tell Sherriff Blanda what he had just witnessed, but he couldn’t risk being seen while trying to circumnavigate the compound. The redheaded biker was an affiliate of the Aryans and Dan had crossed paths with him on a number of occasions. Today he wanted no part of the murderer.
He was in no position to be a hero, so the mountain man silently reversed course and headed back to his remote cabin. Alone with his thoughts he started up the trail. Those media folks will surely milk this latest terrorist attack for all it’s worth. No doubt there will be old newspapers or magazines to read in town after this blows over. Dan wasn’t worried about a radiological dirty bomb affecting him here. Why the hell would the idiots attack Idaho anyway? If this were another attack by Middle Eastern extremists then President Odero would have to listen to his fellow Americans and go kick some more Muslim ass.
He really disliked this part of the climb. For every two steps forward, the surface underfoot shifted and put him one step backward. Head down, watching the trail while putting one foot in front of the other, Mountain Man Dan continued his long trudge back up his talus- and scree-covered mountain.
Epilogue
Day 4 - 19th Special Forces Garrison, Draper, Utah
&n
bsp; * * *
The lemmings marched that morning. Cade, Duncan and Harry all slept in the same empty barracks. Slept was an overstatement. They were all awake when “Enter Sandman” commenced blaring from outside the fence. Because their numbers had steadily increased day by day the base commander made the decision to start eradicating the undead at first light and then again at dusk.
Harry had taken up Major Beeson’s offer of a taxpayer provided Ford F-350 pickup painted entirely in desert camouflage. A Mossberg 500 pump shotgun and a box of shells was provided by the base gunsmith. There was also a case of MREs sitting on the bench seat when Harry got in the truck. He was disappointed with himself because he didn’t set out in search of his wife earlier and hated to admit he was scared of finding out what had really become of her. What Cade was doing was admirable and Harry used that example as motivation. He started the truck and waved halfheartedly towards Duncan and Cade. The perimeter outside the wire was momentarily free of undead. The soldiers opened the double gates for him.
No time like the present. Without looking back he maneuvered the ARMY 4x4 out of the compound and sped down the gravel road; dust billowed up, erasing the truck from view.
The motorcycle Cade was given was an off road Kawasaki KLR 250. The bike was used by Delta Force, the 75th Rangers and many other Special Operations groups. While the civilian version proved to be very loud, the Special Ops build had beefier components and the exhaust was baffled for night time covert missions. While not entirely silent, it was extremely quiet and could go almost anywhere. Part of Cade’s Ranger training included riding dirt bikes in extreme terrain. It had been years ago and there would be some rust to shake off. He had requested the dirt bike because it would use less gas and give him more range. Also the farther east he went the more road blockages he would probably be forced to navigate around. Since he had lost the match grade sniper rifle, Major Beeson had the armorer fit a silencer for the M4. The gun would be a bit harder to maneuver in close quarter battle, but the ability to kill quietly from a distance was well worth it. A new set of ACUs was offered and Cade donned the clean clothes, putting the rest of his gear in the saddle bags. Beeson gave him a few MREs and some bottles of water. The left saddle bag of the bike had been stocked with ammunition and extra magazines for his M4. In the right compartment was a small plastic gas can full of fuel and a length of hose for siphoning when necessary. The Major kept it short and told Cade he hoped he found his family safe and to be careful out there. The man handed him a small portable Sat phone with an extendable antenna.