Plague War: Pandemic

by Alister Hodge

  Mark grimaced. ‘Old habits die hard,’ he muttered, getting to his feet. ‘First thing, let’s secure this roof space, I don’t want to find those rotten bastards attacking us from behind.’

  Nate and Mark jogged over to the door to the roof space. It was an ancient panelled structure, each piece of wood dry and warped from half a century’s sun and storm. The door hung open, creaking softly in the breeze. Mark stepped through into the stairwell and waited a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dark. Movement caught his eye below. He squinted, trying to make out further detail before pulling a torch free of his webbing and pointing the light downstairs. Two women’s heads snapped up at the intrusion, faces pallid and eyes opaque in the force of the beam. They both had shoulder length hair in a clotted mess. Spotting their quarry, the Carriers opened their mouths and screamed, lunging up the stairs in uncoordinated haste.

  Mark jerked out of the doorway, slamming it shut behind him. The bottom hinge shifted in its place, loose within the dry rotted timber frame. The Carriers would make short work of the barrier. He needed something to reinforce the door to give them more time. He glanced hastily around the flat roof space and spotted a heavy bench seat in the far corner.

  ‘Nate, give me a hand to move this,’ he shouted, running over to the chair. ‘We’ve got company coming up the stairs, that door better be stronger than it bloody looks.’

  The two of them rammed the high back of the bench seat up under the door handle, wedging it closed. It would have to do.

  Turning to the others, he raised his voice. ‘We need to clear as many of the Infected from the grounds as possible before the first load of Marines land. There’s only going to be twenty odd men hitting the beach, and we can’t afford them to be overrun. If they die – we probably won’t make it off this roof ourselves. I want single shots, one bullet for each brain.’

  Nate and the other two marines gave him a short nod as they took up separate positions around the roof. Mark rested an elbow on the brick ledge and focused through his sights on the first stumbling ghoul and fired. The corpse dropped to the ground, a neat hole drilled through its forehead. He moved the sights to the next Carrier, gritted his teeth and continued, one shot every few seconds.

  ***

  The bow of the RIB bit deep into an oncoming swell, sending a plume of spray over the ten Marines on board. Vinh let go of his seat to wipe the water from his face, grimacing at the salt sting in his eyes. An icy trickle ran down the back of his neck, making him shiver. Thirty metres to the right, a second RIB churned through the swells with them. That made twenty men in all, a pitiful force to launch an attack on potentially hundreds of the Infected. Command had said their number should be irrelevant as they were an unarmed foe, but in many ways, Vinh would have been happier facing live humans with rifles. In any case, they had no choice. With only two RIBs and one helicopter at the Frigate’s disposal, a slow build-up of men on the beach was the only plan available.

  The noise of the boat was suddenly drowned out, replaced by a buffeting wind and roar of chopper blades as the Seahawk helicopter swept over them with scant metres to spare. Vinh’s head snapped around as he followed its path overhead and onward to the Fort. He tracked the aircraft as it did a brief fly over the fort compound before landing out of sight on one of the roof areas.

  Membership within the advance landing parties hadn’t been ordered, the men involved were all volunteers. It hadn’t surprised Vinh to see Mark’s hand raised as the first to self-nominate. From all accounts the bastard had faced worse, and in any case, he carried his own survival with palpable guilt, like it was something of which to be ashamed. In his experience, men like that tended to get their death wish fulfilled eventually. But he’d been unprepared when Nate’s hand had gone up to take the last position on board the chopper, leaving no place for Vinh to join and protect his back. He still fumed over it, anger born from concern for his old mate. Vinh noted that Command hadn’t even bothered sending a non-commissioned officer to lead the group of four, as sure a sign as any that they weren’t expected to survive. It just made it even more important that his squad infiltrated the site quickly to take on their own weight of the enemy if his mates were going to have a chance.

  The surf was minimal compared to his previous trip ashore, allowing the RIB to approach closer in to the beach, dropping them on the sand at the northern end of the compound. Vinh jumped over the side, holding his rifle over his head. As he waded quickly to the beach, the chopper roared back overhead to the Frigate. He ran across the short stretch of sand exposed by the low tide to an outcrop of rock and flattened himself beside another marine named Sean. Vinh could hear steady gunfire from the compound, carried to the beach in fluctuating volume by an offshore breeze. Vinh felt the rest of his Marine squad thump into the sand next to him. He tapped Sean on the shoulder.

  ‘You seen anything?’

  The marine shook his head. ‘Nah, seems pretty clear. Only those bunkers, then we’re into the compound.’

  Remnants of coastal defence built during the two World Wars, they were constructed of naked concrete slabs and had long since fallen into disrepair. Each bunker was a squat building with an open fronted room facing the bay. The angle of the sun prevented light entering their interiors, leaving any occupant hidden in shadow. Their orders had been to quickly clear these defences, then move on to the fence line.

  ‘Let’s get this shit over with.’ Vinh rolled to his side so he could see the rest of his squad. ‘The second detachments landed at the southern end of the compound, so these two bunkers are ours. I want four men to clear each one, and two marines to stay on the beach here for...’

  ‘No need, Vinnie,’ interrupted one of the Marines. ‘The hungry bastards are coming to us.’

  Vinh felt his breath catch as he looked back around, just in time to see the first Carrier face plant into the sand out of the bunker window. It had started. Two more dropped from the same window, while the other divulged three onto the sand. Nothing more needed to be said, half the squad peeled away to the second bunker, leaving Vinh and four marines to deal with the Infected at hand.

  Vinh launched from his spot, wanting to attack before the Carriers regained their feet. One lay where it fell, a broken neck severing the brain’s control over its body. Eyes still tracked the approaching marines while teeth snapped impotently. The fight was over in mere seconds, each marine smoothly picking off a separate Carrier. Now that the more immediate threats had been eliminated, Vinh returned to the Carrier with the broken neck. Resting the muzzle of his rifle against its temple, he pulled the trigger. The back of its skull mashed into the sand underneath, an expression of anger frozen on the creature’s face as Vinh moved on.

  He hooked a finger at the other marines to join him. With his shoulder at the bunker’s wall, he mounted the sand dune and headed for the main entrance. A rusty sheet metal door greeted him at the top. Not waiting, he kicked it open and stepped inside, rifle to his shoulder. A quick scan came up empty. He backed out and joined the rest of the group.

  ‘Anyone bitten?’ he asked, scanning the faces of his men quickly. Each shook their head in denial.

  A narrow path was cut into the rocky cliff that protected the back of the fort. Vinh led the way as his section ran up the narrow switchbacks of the track to approach the back of the compound. At the top of the cliff, a cyclone fence was the only barrier to the fort’s interior. One of the marines pulled out a set of wire cutters and began to clip through individual strands of wire. Vinh waited impatiently. He could now see Nate and Mark’s location a hundred metres distant, atop a castle like structure built into the northern corner of the curtain wall. The ground beneath them was thick with Infected, crawling over their own dead to reach the building. Vinh saw that a hole big enough for a man to squeeze through had been cut in the wire.

  ‘That’s enough,’ he said, and grabbed hold of one side of the opening, pulling it outwards so his squad could slip through one at a time. Vinh joined his men o
n the other side. ‘If we get overwhelmed, retreat back through the fence line, same again if you’re separated from the group and can’t re-join us.’

  He paused, looking ahead. A few Carriers at the back of the pack had noticed them and were headed their way. He lifted his rifle to his shoulder at the ready.

  ‘Let’s go,’ Vinh said as he broke into a half jog.

  The ten men ran forward with weapons raised, Vinh in the lead. A brief stretch of knee length grass separated the fence line from the main section of the compound. Within moments the men were across it and onto a bitumen road leading directly to Mark and Nate’s position. They slowed as the road became lined with buildings to either side, wary of attack from their flanks. The sound of smashing glass from behind brought Vinh to a stop. Looking back over his shoulder, he saw a uniformed Carrier launch itself through a shattered window at one of his men, tackling him to the ground. The marine jammed a forearm up against its neck, holding the gnashing teeth away from his face. The Carrier snarled, brown sludge dripping from its mouth as it tried to jam a thumb into the marine’s eye. Vinh shoved the end of his rifle into its ear and pulled the trigger, blasting away the far side of its skull. He kicked the corpse off the marine and pulled him back to his feet. Aside from two deep runnels torn into his cheek by the Carrier’s nails, he appeared unhurt.

  Vinh spun around to the main threat once more, picked a target and fired. More Carriers were peeling away from the main pack to join the attack against his squad, lurching forward with eyes fixed on their new targets. Dried blood stained their torn clothes, attesting to the violence of infection transfer. Many had ragged wounds, the trauma highlighted by unnaturally pale skin surrounding.

  His men joined him in engaging the enemy. Their rifles coughed bullets, methodically dropping one after another of the Infected. Vinh looked ahead and saw the building was now less than fifty metres away. This close in, the ground was littered with corpses, skulls smashed apart by the high calibre rounds fired from Mark’s crew on the roof. The remaining ghouls mobbed a door at the base of the building. A huge Carrier hammered at the panels, reducing his fists to mangled lumps of bone and flesh in the process. A piece of wood eventually splintered under his fury. The Carrier grasped at the panel beside it and wrenched it free. Other eager hands now tore at the panelling from either side, ripping the door apart. And suddenly they were through. The Infected poured through the opening and onto the stairwell.

  Vinh swore to himself and stepped up the pace. Despite his best efforts, he feared he was already too late.

  ***

  ‘You fucking idiot,’ muttered Nate as he saw Vinh and his squad arrive.

  Mark caught Nate’s line of sight and noted the arrivals. ‘Why’s there only one squad? There should be forty odd soldiers down there.’

  ‘Vinh’s been a dickhead and ignored orders to wait for the second wave of marines. That’s what you get for promoting a short-arsed, stubborn prick to Corporal the night before a mission.’

  ‘I’m not complaining; we need his help. Those bastards just broke through the door,’ said Mark, pointing to ground level.

  Nate swore to himself as he saw a massive hulk dressed in overalls lunge through the splintered doorway. They probably had less than five minutes before he reached the top of the stairs and ripped apart their weak barricade.

  ‘I’m down to my last magazine, how many have each of you got?’ asked Mark. Nate had one spare; the other two soldiers were in a worse state, with less than a handful of rounds each.

  Mark swore to himself. ‘That’s going to cut it too close for comfort. Surely there’s another way off this roof,’ he said.

  The men quickly skirted the edge of the rooftop, looking for a ledge or handholds that might lead to the wall below. Nothing. Only a spine crushing eight-metre drop.

  ‘Looks like we’re staying put for the fun. Have you got any grenades?’ asked Mark urgently. ‘They won’t kill many but might slow them down a bit.’

  ‘Just the one, same as you,’ said Nate, placing it in Mark’s waiting hand.

  ‘Ok, get your bayonets on, but hold your fire until they’re through the door, every bullet has to count. I’ll sort out the stairwell,’ Mark said.

  Nate glanced over the edge to see how Vinh was holding up. He was making steady progress, with under twenty Carriers left between his squad and the building.

  Mark stood before the door, waiting. The two female Carriers scrabbled ineffectually at the other side of the barrier. Suddenly an ear-splitting roar sounded from behind the wood. He heard two wet thuds, as the huge Carrier he’d seen earlier smashed the female Infected aside to access the door. One punch was all it took. The dry wood of the panel disintegrated to a mass of kindling. The ghoul pressed its face up against the hole. Its right eye socket was empty, the cheek below ripped free to expose the underlying teeth and jaw. The remaining eye centred on Mark as it screamed a cry of rage at him.

  Mark pulled the pins from the grenades, thrust them through the broken panel and dived to the right. ‘Get down!’ he yelled.

  The other marines hit the ground, hands over their heads as two explosions in rapid succession buffeted their ears. The door was blasted from its hinges, the wood converted to a mass of vicious splinters. Nate felt a burning pain in his thigh and looked down to see a twenty-centimetre spike of wood sticking out of his thigh. He grunted in pain as he ripped it out. Smoke and brick dust billowed from the hole where the door had been.

  The men got to their feet, rifles trained on the opening. Out from the dust crawled the first Carrier. Both legs had been amputated by shrapnel below the knees, leaving raw bone to grate upon the concrete for purchase. A gaping hole was torn in the left side of its abdomen, allowing fetid entrails to bulge outward. A loop of intestine snagged on the remnants of the bench seat, pulling the entire abdominal contents free in a tangled mess. Over and around the first corpse emerged other Carriers, clothes torn and burnt by the explosion, chunks of flesh ripped free.

  ‘Open fire!’ yelled Mark. The marines centred their aim on the entrance and let loose, punching round after round into the shambling ghouls. For each that dropped, another took its place. The marines retreated to the far corner of the roof. Nate couldn’t help but glance behind, grimacing as he looked down. The eight-metre drop might end up being the better way to go.

  Vinh blew the head off the last Carrier standing ahead, clearing his way to the keep. His whole squad had survived the attack; bruised maybe, but free of bites. He took a deep breath and waved them onwards. Ten metres distant, the last of the Infected passed through the door of the Keep. If they engaged the Infected from the bottom of the staircase, it would decrease the pressure of numbers for his mates at the top.

  Vinh and another marine were about to enter when he heard a faint cry of warning above. Without thought, he shoved his comrade out of the doorway and threw himself backwards in the other direction. Two explosions in rapid succession hammered out of the entrance, knocking one of his men to the ground. Vinh looked back at his fallen man, hearing nothing but a high-pitched whine from his damaged eardrums. He grabbed an arm and leg of the wounded soldier to drag him aside in case of a third blast.

  His medic was suddenly at his side, pulling out thick wads of dressing to apply pressure to the shrapnel wounds in the soldier’s legs. Vinh pulled on the straps built into the upper thigh of the marine’s combat fatigues, tourniquets that were incorporated within the uniforms of Australian soldiers for this very occurrence. He left him in the care of the medic and returned to the doorway.

  The whistle in his ears started to lessen and he began to make out other sounds. Snarling echoed from within the dark staircase of the Keep as the dust began to settle. He stepped through the entrance, pulled a flare from his webbing, lit and threw it to the far corner of the room. Crimson light bathed the stairwell, casting the Infected above in harsh definition.

  The grenades appeared to have gone off at different locations; one on the top landing, t
he other having fallen down the middle of the staircase to explode at ground level. Vinh picked out his targets above, firing in quick succession alongside his men, desperate to draw the attention of the Carriers away from the men on the roof.

  It was working.

  As his squad culled their numbers with ruthless efficiency, part of the rabid mob turned and changed their focus to the soldiers at the base of the stairs. One after another, the Carriers were shot, faces obliterated by the marksmanship of Vinh and his men. The last Carrier hit fell over the railing, landing on top of the burning flare with a wet crunch. Darkness returned to the stairwell as the flare was extinguished by dead flesh.

  Vinh left three marines to guard the exit, taking the remaining five with him up the stairs. He could hear the fight continuing on the roof, the rate of fire escalating to a near continuous stream of rounds. He halted his men below the top landing, still out of sight of the doorway to the roof. If they went any further, he’d be placing his men into the line of fire as the marines on the roof shot towards the doorway. Vinh gritted his teeth, desperate to join the fight. The rate of fire suddenly began to reduce, and yet the snarling from the Carriers continued. Suddenly there was an absence of gunfire and he heard a man scream in agony. He couldn’t wait any longer. Vinh lunged up the last couple of steps and ran for the doorway. The exit was blocked, piled thigh height with corpses. Beyond the doorway, the ground was covered in bodies, burnt and mangled by shrapnel. At the far side, he could see the backs of three Carriers as they attacked the last of the marines. Vinh hauled himself over the corpses blocking the doorway, rolling down the far side into a mess of entrails. He shoved himself to standing and bolted over the vile bodies beneath him.

  ***

  The four marines backed away shoulder to shoulder, slowly giving ground to the ghouls in front. The marine to Mark’s right, a bloke called Tanner, swore viciously as he ran out of ammunition.