by Dirk Patton
Mayo retrieved the headset that had been knocked off in the scuffle and I could see him talking into it, filling in Anderson up in the cockpit. The noise of the helicopter in flight was too loud for me to hear what he was saying, but I had my own concerns. What the hell had just happened? The nerve agent was only supposed to be effective for a maximum of 48 hours. Stacy had been fine two weeks ago when I’d first met her, and was fine when we winched her up into the aircraft. The only thing that made sense was the briefing I had received earlier in the day was wrong. How many of us were about to become infected? I watched Gwen closely, but she just lay in a ball on the deck sobbing. Mayo, who had had lots of contact with Stacy and was covered in her blood looked completely freaked out but otherwise seemed fine. I looked down at my blood stained hands and a little thrill of fear ran through me. Something about bio-weapons has always terrified me. Probably because it’s not something I can see and fight. Putting fears that I couldn’t do anything about aside I grabbed one of the headsets and slipped it on my head. As soon as the noise cancelling kicked in I could hear Mayo and Anderson speaking. Not waiting to find out what they were discussing I cut in on the conversation.
“Anderson, can you get me on the radio with flight ops at Arnold?” I asked, lowering myself into a web sling seat and keeping my distance from Gwen.
“Can do, Major. Stand by.”
The headset went silent for a few moments then Anderson’s voice came back, “Major, go ahead for Arnold flight operations.”
“Arnold, Major Chase here. I need to speak to Major Masuka immediately.”
“Wait one, Sir.” It was actually more than one, more like five, before I heard Masuka’s voice in the headset.
“Major, I’m pretty busy right now. Can’t this wait until you’re back?”
“Are we on private comms?” I asked.
There was silence for a moment then a hum and click. “We’re private. What do you need?”
“We rescued two teenage girls. Both were healthy when we got them into the aircraft, but one of them just turned right in front of me. The intelligence that the nerve agent is no longer a threat seems to be flawed.” I kept an eye on Gwen and Mayo both while I spoke. One surprise for the day was enough.
“Repeat that,” she requested. From the tone of her voice I could tell she had heard me just fine but wasn’t processing the bad news, so I repeated myself.
After a few moments of silence she acknowledged she understood.
“Find an Army Colonel named Crawford,” I said. “He’s either still at Arnold or has recently left for Fort Campbell. He needs to know about this ASAP. And I would suggest you get some armed MPs into flight ops right away.”
“Understood,” was her only reply, then another click and she was gone.
“How long to Arnold?” I asked Anderson over the intercom.
“Uh… 20 minutes, Major. You want me to step it up?”
I didn’t even hesitate, “Yes. Get us on the ground as fast as you can.”
The noise and vibration increased as Anderson pushed the Pave Hawk to its top speed. Gwen still hadn’t moved. Mayo had found a blood borne pathogen response kit in a storage compartment and was washing as much blood off his skin as he could with a large squeeze bottle of Hydrogen Peroxide. He held it out towards me and I gratefully extended my hands. The liquid bubbled when it hit the blood on my hands and I rubbed them together, scrubbing as well as I could. When we were as clean as could be for the moment he used the rest of the bottle to hose down the blood that was congealing on the deck, but nothing short of a fire hose was going to get this helicopter clean.
Twelve minutes later I felt our speed and altitude change and looked out the door. We were over the outer perimeter of Arnold AFB and Anderson was taking us straight in to the flight line we had departed from. A couple of minutes later he flared only a dozen feet above the pavement and set us on the ground with a barely perceptible thump, executing a textbook perfect dust-out or combat landing. I’ve flown with a lot of Viet Nam era pilots that perfected the dust-out landing and Anderson did it as well as any seasoned vet. Moving to the back of the space I bent down and touched Gwen’s shoulder, pulling my hand back when she jerked away and swung at me. She looked at me with eyes swollen and red from crying and I could see the hate burning in them.
“Go ahead, Major. I’ve got this,” Mayo said as he secured the minigun.
I nodded my thanks to him and looked Gwen back in the eye. “I’m sorry,” I said. I knew I didn’t have any choice once Stacy turned, but that didn’t mean I didn’t feel like shit about what I’d had to do.
Turning away I stepped to the door and jumped the few feet down to the pavement. Just as my boots hit the ground gunfire erupted from the direction of the flight operations building. Leaning back in the door I yelled at Anderson to get the helicopter refueled and stay with it, grabbed my pack and took off at a fast run towards flight ops as the sound of a rifle on full auto reached my ears.
Chapter 8
Flight operations was a couple of hundred yards from the flight line and as I ran an additional rifle on full auto sounded. Damn it. Didn’t the Air Force train their personnel not to waste ammo? Regardless of popular conception based on movies full auto is not the way to go. The rifle is hard as hell to hold on your target and you will wind up spraying bullets uselessly all over the place, hitting nothing. These guys needed to be using semi-auto or burst mode and picking their targets.
Pounding across the pavement towards the building I angled towards a steel access door set in the wall facing me, bringing my rifle to the ready position as I closed inside 50 yards. As I approached the door slammed open and two figures tumbled through it and fell to the ground. They were both dressed in AF uniforms, and I had to close within a few feet before I could tell which was the infected and which wasn’t. They rolled over and the infected wound up on top, grasping its victim and struggling to reach his throat. I stepped in and kicked the infected in the side of the head. I was wearing steel toed combat boots and if I had been an NFL kicker would have just made a field goal from the 50 yard line.
The infected’s head caved in and the body went limp. I reached down and grabbed the back of its belt and hauled the dead body off the struggling man. Tossing the infected aside I reached a hand down and was surprised when I pulled Captain Roach to his feet. Roach was in the Air Force Security Force – the AF version of an MP – and I’d had a run in with the officious little prick when we had landed the previous night. I’d won the battle and we’d not parted as friends. Fortunately my newly minted Oak Leaf carried more authority than his Captain’s bars so it looked like I had won the war as well.
“You’re on me,” I told him, yanked the door to flight ops open and stepped inside.
I found myself in a lighted hallway lined with offices and the sounds of a firefight were louder and coming from the far end of the building. Rifle at my shoulder I started advancing down the hall, not waiting to see if Roach was following. I bypassed closed doors. I had yet to encounter an infected that could work a door knob. Open doors however slowed me down as I had to clear each room before proceeding, not willing to risk leaving an infected to my rear. I thought about just closing the doors and moving on, but opted for clearing each unsecured room as I went. The first two rooms I cleared were empty of personnel, but the third was occupied.
A female clerk huddled behind an overturned conference table as an infected male officer leaned over the edge of the table and tried to reach her. He was snarling and waving his arms in frustration, but didn’t have enough mental faculties remaining to just pull the table out of his way. Conserving ammo I drew the Kukri and buried half the blade in the back of his neck, severing his spinal column. He dropped without a sound and I motioned the girl, an Air Force Airman, to stay put. Exiting the office I closed the door behind me to keep her safe and was pleasantly surprised to see Roach standing in the hall with his pistol in hand at low ready, scanning back and forth for any threats. H
e was still a prick.
Moving on down the hall I cleared two more rooms, both empty, and started up the stairs to the second floor where the large flight operations center was located. The firing had stopped and that was either a good thing – all of the infected had been put down, or a bad thing – the infected had won the battle. The stairs were two half flights with a landing in the middle that forced a 180 degree turn to continue up. Rifle raised to engage any targets on the stairs above I stepped onto the landing and swiveled to cover the upper flight of stairs. An infected female screamed and launched herself down the stairs when she saw me. I pulled the trigger and the rifle spat out a three round burst that stitched across her chest and head. All animation left the body and its momentum carried it down the stairs to crash into the wall next to me.
Stepping over the body I slowly climbed the upper flight and paused at the top. Hundreds of spent shell casings lay on the shiny floor, the walls and ceiling ripped apart presumably by the inaccurate full auto firing I had heard. Three dead infected lay in the hall, pools of blood looking even redder against the polished linoleum. The double doors that led into the operations center were closed and also showed damage from multiple bullet strikes. Moving to the left side of the double doors I motioned Roach to take up position on the right. I listened for a moment and could hear movement from inside the ops center, but couldn’t tell if it was survivors or infected.
Meeting Roach’s eyes with mine I gave hand signals to indicate I heard movement and was going to open the door. He pushed his shoulder into the wall, adjusted his grip on his pistol and nodded. Using the barrel of my rifle I gently pushed on the door and it started to swing in. Immediately full auto fire blasted through the wood, showering the hall as well as Roach and me with splinters.
“Cease fire! Friendlies coming in,” I shouted. Roach started to step in front of the door but I stopped him. Just because I had yelled out didn’t mean whoever was firing that rifle wasn’t still so freaked out they wouldn’t open up on anything that moved. After a moment a female voice I recognized as Major Masuka called out for us to come ahead. Stepping in front of the door I pushed it open with my left elbow as I kept my rifle up and ready. The rifle’s muzzle was the first thing to enter the room then I pushed the door all the way open and stepped fully into the opening.
Bodies were everywhere in the room and it stunk of blood, bowels and gun powder. Most of the flat panel displays that were mounted on the walls were shattered and the entire bank of windows that faced the flight line had been blown out by gunfire. I just had time to take this all in before my legs were nearly taken out from under me. Dog, frantically happy to see me, forgot that he weighed over 100 pounds and wouldn’t stop jumping against me until I leaned over, hugged him with one arm and scratched his belly with my free hand. Straightening up I came face to face with Rachel who wrapped her arms around me for a quick hug then stepped back and punched my chest. Hard.
“That’s for going off without us,” she said and went back across the room where she had been giving first aid to the injured. I heard a snort from Roach behind me and I thought about turning around and breaking his nose for him. Fortunately for him Masuka walked over to me just then.
“Your heads up saved a lot of people,” she said, holding a compress to her arm.
“What happened to you?” I asked, gesturing at the bandage.
“Stray round,” she replied. “It happens.” She tried to shrug it off. I looked around the room and spotted two Airmen in full battle rattle, rifles held across their chests, standing at the far end of the room.
“Yours?” I asked, turning to Roach.
He nodded his head. Turning to the two MPs I whistled to get their attention and waved them over to where I was standing. They glanced at each other then walked timidly across the room, stepping over bodies, and came to attention in front of me. I told them to stand at ease.
“Were you two the ones doing all the firing on full auto?” I asked.
The Senior Airman, senior of the two, swallowed audibly before answering, “Yes, Sir.”
“Good work keeping these people safe,” I said. “But, I want you to put those rifles in semi mode and practice some fire discipline. If you get caught out in the open and go rock ‘n roll you’ll burn through your ammo too fast and wind up somebody’s lunch. Understand?”
They both acknowledged and stepped away when Captain Roach motioned them to follow him out to the hall. When they moved away I went over to Masuka.
“Did you get word to Colonel Crawford?” I asked.
“Yes. A Black Hawk out of Fort Campbell picked him up a while ago and I got word to him over the radio.”
“Did he make it to Fort Campbell?”
“Don’t know, and haven’t had time to check. We’ve got two Globemasters orbiting while we dealt with this, whatever the hell this is, and…”
A massive explosion from the far end of the flight line cut off whatever it was she was about to say.
Chapter 9
The night lit up as a giant ball of flame engulfed two hangars and several parked fighter jets. With the heavy glass windows that faced the flight line blown out there was nothing to shield us from the shockwave that slammed into the room seconds later. What few shards of glass had remained in the window frames became shrapnel as the wave of air blasted through and more bodies hit the floor, several of them screaming in pain. When my hearing returned a few heartbeats later I could hear sirens sounding the alarm.
The explosion and fireball had been large and intense enough to create a small mushroom cloud, just like a miniature nuclear weapon, and as the flames fed the superheated air the cloud was lit from within and looked like a gate to hell had opened up. I spun at the sound of a scream from across the room that was uniquely different from the screams of the wounded. A female infected wearing an AF enlisted uniform leapt up onto a console and screamed again at a group of co-workers that were huddling behind another console. I snapped my rifle up, flipping the selector to semi-auto as I brought it to my shoulder then squeezed the trigger. The infected’s head snapped to the side then her body fell limp to the floor. What the fuck was going on?
I swung my rifle around at the sound of running boots behind me, but it was only Roach and the two MPs responding to my firing the rifle. Roach looked in the direction I pointed, saw the dead infected and quickly sent his two men to opposite sides of the room. I was surprised and gratified to hear him repeat my admonishment about keeping their rifles on semi mode. Lowering the rifle I turned back to find that Rachel had moved up next to me.
“This place is about to completely fall apart,” she said in a low voice. “We need to get out of here while we still can.”
I nodded. She was right. I didn’t know if there had been another release of the nerve agent, or if it had a delayed reaction on some people, but being in a group didn’t seem like the safest place to be at the moment. I walked over to where Masuka was intently listening on a field radio. She held up a finger in the ‘one minute’ gesture as I approached.
“Copy that,” she said and handed the handset back to a radio operator who was standing at her side.
“Infected attacked a maintenance crew while they were refueling an F-18,” she said. “Firearms and jet fuel aren’t a good combination.”
I started to respond but movement on the flight line caught my attention. Dozens of figures were silhouetted against the fire, and all were shambling towards us. I pointed and Masuka turned to look, cursing when she saw the infected. Other people in the room noticed us and looked and a swell of voices raised in panic. It was time for me to take charge. Grabbing Masuka’s arm I pulled her attention away from the infected stumbling across the tarmac outside the windows.
“We need to get these people to a secure area,” I said. “I don’t know this base. Where do we take them?”
“There’s a fallout shelter in the basement of this building,” she replied.
“No good.” I said. “Fallout sh
elters have one way in and out and the infected will pile up outside that door and trap us. We’ll only survive as long as the food and water lasts. The flight I was supposed to be on tomorrow morning. Is that plane here? Do we have a pilot?”
“It’s not here. It’s due in from McConnell in a few hours.” She was referring to McConnell Air Force Base which was a couple of hundred miles southwest of Kansas City near the Oklahoma border.
“OK, what about those Globemasters you said were orbiting? Can we get one on the ground and start evacuating?” I was getting antsy as I watched the infected move closer to the building we were in. We needed to move, but I wasn’t getting much help in coming up with where to go to.
Masuka turned to her radio operator and started barking orders. Even before she was through he had the handset to his head and was presumably talking to the pilots. After a few moments he lowered the handset and looked at Masuka and me.
“Foxtrot one seven is diverting to McConnell. Foxtrot one nine is lining up for a landing and will be on the ground in five minutes.”
I didn’t wait for Masuka. “Everyone form up in a group,” I raised my voice loud enough to be heard over the moaning of the wounded and the hubbub of frightened conversation in the room. “If you’re not armed, help the injured. If you are armed I want you on the perimeter of the group. We’re going to evacuate to the flight line and board a Globemaster that is inbound.”
Everyone stared at me, only a couple of older Sergeants starting to move. We didn’t have time for this.
“Move now or you’re going to die!” I shouted, galvanizing everyone into action.
I turned to Roach and told him he was bringing up the rear. I would take point and lead the group out of the building and out to the flight line. I spent a few seconds checking my weapons and spare magazines, then went over to the body of a fallen MP near the door and collected five full rifle magazines from his harness. Rachel had her pack on, rifle in her hands, and I handed her two of the magazines and kept three for myself. Telling her to stay close I activated my radio to check in on Anderson and Mayo.