by M. Evans
He hung up the phone to the nurses' station knowing he'd more than likely be signing her death warrant.
He was speechless. He heard a growling sound like a dog or wolf fighting for food. The creature was crouching on its toes and hands--its entire head buried in the man's entrails. Major Stevenson bent over his garbage can and filled the lower part of it up with his previous meal.
He sat up, wiping his face with his handkerchief, staring at the screen and ready to lose whatever was still left of his lunch in the can. He had a truck full of reality hit him in his face when ten other soldiers stood--all who had been given the same drug. The men swayed slowly in place, just like their predecessor had, sniffing and lifting their arms to get a taste for the flesh.
Stevenson immediately picked up his phone to call his superior.
He punched in the number. He had never before called the private number which was for emergencies only and connected to a phone in Washington, DC. His main director, Colonel Webber, answered on the fourth ring. "This is Dr. Webber. This had better be an emergency, son!"
Stevenson nodded to himself knowing he was justified in calling, but, in the long term aspect of things, felt better off to lie. "Colonel Webber, I can't help but place this call. God knows that if I had the choice, I would take back the actions of others from today, helping them to make better choices, but unfortunately, it's too late."
The Colonel was not one for dramatics. "Spit it out doctor! I don't have all day! What did you do?"
"No, sir! It wasn't me. It was two of my doctors. They ran a clinical trial on a group of men. We were trying to cure the regeneration issue with men who'd suffered from biochemical warfare."
Webber sat up a bit, excited. "Did you do it? Do you have a working cure?"
"Sorry to report, sir, but these men have had some sort of horrible reaction. They are ... er ... they're eating each other ... and themselves ... sir."
Webber was silent for a moment trying to wrap his brain around what he just heard. "What do you mean eating each other? Are we talking biting, nibbling--?"
"It's an all-you-can-eat chow fest, sir! And human is the special!"
"How do we, and by we I really mean you because I'm thousands of miles from there, plan to take care of this? Do you have any protocol for this?"
Stevenson got down on his knees to open his office safe. He pulled out protocol tabs which were to be broken open in an emergency. He looked through the list and returned to the phone. "Colonel, can you please tell me what I'm to do? Because there isn't a card for what's going on here tonight. I'm worried if we wait too long, we're not going to be able to contain this!"
"If this isn't containable and they've already made their way through the facility then I suggest you lock it down. And then burn it to the ground. And Major, you make God damn sure that nothing--and I mean nothing--gets out of there. I don't want bodies, papers, files, or anything that could possibly bite you or myself in the ass later to make it out of there. Do I make myself clear, son?"
"Crystal, sir. I'll get everyone on base to help with this, and give no instructions other than to shoot to kill."
The Colonel looked around his office trying to calculate the dissection of Congressional hearings he would have to deal with if this wasn't contained. "Don't screw this up! Do you understand!?" He hit the end button on his phone leaving the Major to do the dirty work.
Stevenson hit the speed-dial for the security office. Reaching the Sergeant's secretary, he spoke in a harsh, hurried tone. "Put on Sergeant Smith!" he demanded.
The secretary typed away, not missing a beat in her work. "Sir, is this an emergency? Because I'm only allowed to interrupt him if it is."
Stevenson snapped, "Look, ma'am! This is a Major you're speaking to, and you had better damn well know I don't need your permission, of all things, to speak to a damn sergeant!" He sat there for a second, breathing heavily, watching the monitor, seeing the creatures there making the row of beds filled with dying men a soldier smorgasbord.
He bit on his knuckle, trying to keep it together while on the phone, but unable to stop looking at the spectacle in front of him. They all had blood coming from their eyes and began to walk past the other test subjects just like the first solider had done. The blood from the bodies which had already been feasted on started to turn the white tile floor a dark red, blood and guts dripping from their bellies. He opened his desk drawer, pulled out his .45 caliber pistol, and clipped his holster to his side. He watched as the men with guts falling out were the now beginning to stand. It hadn't been ten minutes and these men were suffering the same traits and hunger of the original selected soldiers. He saw that some were starting to stray for the doors when they'd run out of fresh, living food.
He looked around his desk, gathered up all the notes he'd jotted down, put them in the puke filled garbage can, and lit a match to set them ablaze. He went to his computer and filled in the necessary codes to dump all data and all video images the base was storing. By the time today was over, this would just be a horrible accident that no one could have expected or be able to explain.
He turned his attention back to the phone and transferred himself to a cellular satellite phone. He grabbed his keys, ID badges, and a picture of his mother. Anything left behind wouldn't look the same later. He headed for the front door at a brisk pace, and passed two men coming back in from their lunch. He felt guilty enough already about what would be happening today. He felt if he could save anyone he should, as this might be the only just thing that he was able to do for anyone today. "Boys, why don't you run to the supplies depot on base and pick up some extra syringes, please?"
He waited for them to leave knowing he probably saved their lives, and swiped the keycard which would make the fortified bomb proof building almost impossible to exit from the front. It was plated with bullet proof glass and two foot thick brickwork as it wasn't designed originally to be a medical center. He locked up the door with keys as well ... just as he heard his first of many screams.
He noticed there was no hold music. He wasn't on hold. He could just hear the secretary saying under her breath, "Be an army of one.... See the world, Margaret. Great advice, dad." She shook it off. "Please hold, sir. I will get Sergeant Smith on the line ASAP for you." She tapped the hold button and rang the Sergeant.
Sergeant Smith was looking over reports and pacing in his office when the telephone rang. He sighed, hating his telephone and, most of the time, a good majority of the people on it. He took a last look at the papers and tossed them on his desk, trading them for a stogie he'd been chewing on more than smoking the last few hours. "Hello, Margaret."
"Sergeant, there is a situation, it seems. Major Stevenson is on the line and insists he urgently needs to talk to you."
He laughed. It takes just one prick parked in a Major's or Captain's parking bay and they would insist it was a crime against humanity, or at least themselves, and it couldn't go unpunished so needed to be on his list of items to care about. "Margaret, when isn't it a situation?"
"He called a moment ago. He's on hold. From his tone, he seems worked up and nervous. He told me that it was an emergency."
"Put him through, Margaret."
Margaret, in a fluid moment, swapped the lines. "Sir? Sergeant Smith will take your call now." She didn't wait for a response, and sent him through to her boss.
Smith answered, already feeling the aggravation from what started off as a normal day would possibly be screwed up by this little pecker. "Major Stevenson? What can I do for you sir?"
He cleared his throat trying to think of a lie and came up with nothing. "That's classified Sergeant. I need you to lockdown the perimeter ASAP. I don't want anyone in or out."
Sergeant Smith shook his head. He couldn't believe he was good enough to save his life but not good enough to be give a single detail. He thought to himself God bless the United States Army. "What else needs done, Major?"
"What kind of artillery do you have quickly available in the
armory?"
Smith didn't like where this seemed to be going. "We are well stocked, sir. Small arms, assault rifles, sniper rifles.... Sir, if you would permit me a question, could you tell me why you want a level five lockdown and are asking about our weapon stock?"
"Get it." He offered no answer.
"Get what, sir? I seem to be missing something."
"All of it. Get a rifle and sidearm in every God damn soldier's hand and enough ammo to take down a herd of buffalo."
Smith was getting more nervous by the minute and pissed the brass wouldn't tell him what was happening. "Sir, I can give out ARs and pistols until I run out of soldiers, but I'm going to need some sort of directive as to what the men should do once they have the weapons, sir, or they won't do a hell of a lot of good to themselves or anyone else for that matter. We need to know if we have to shoot out of the gates or if this is internal."
Stevenson, knowing his rank meant not having to answer to sergeants, had gotten his orders from higher up than anyone on this base could match. "The targets are in Echo building--the soldiers we brought in last week that were suffering from the Taliban's bio warfare. They've developed something new, Sergeant ... something that turns the men into cannibals or ... something worse."
Smith knew bullshit when he heard it, but the Major was deadly serious. He sat down and shook his head. He absent-mindedly did a sign of the cross. "Are you telling me these men in Echo ward are ... eating each other, sir?"
"Affirmative, Sergeant. I need you to lockdown the grounds and get this base completely secured and tightened down. Now! These things appear to be contagious."
"These ... things? Don't you mean these soldiers, sir?"
Thinking back to what he saw on the monitor from his office, Stevenson shook his head. "Smith, if you could see what I saw, you wouldn't call them men--monsters would be more fitting. But the men in these bodies are gone, replaced with something ... worse. Something evil."
"I can get ground level and the tunnels secured, sir. How do you want to proceed with Echo building itself?"
"I want it burned to the ground, and anyone that makes it out to be shot dead. These orders come from higher ranking officers than myself, and are above being questioned. I want enough firepower on that building that those guns'll melt before they run out of ammo."
"God help us for what were about to do, sir. I'll make sure we get secured and ready, and call to the tunnels to get lockdown procedures in place. I need twenty minutes, sir. I'll meet you in front of Echo."
The Major was silent. He hadn't taken in to account that, when he ordered a lockdown, it would keep him here as well. He knew if he left, he couldn't give accurate details to his boss that things were going the way they were supposed to.
"Sir?"
"If something comes out of that building I want you to cut it into pieces, do you understand me? I don't care how normal it looks or if it appears injured."
"Yes, sir. I will pass it on to the soldiers." He hit the phone for a new line and dialed for the barracks where he had some men from the Third Eagle Company. He was put through to the company leader. "Hilpiper? This is Smith from security. Are you and your men good to go?"
Hilpiper and Smith were regular drinking and target shooting buddies when Hilpiper's men weren't off blowing something up or taking on an assignment of classified nature. Hilpiper new damn well Smith was straight to the point, and wasn't one for small talk. "Mobile? I haven't had any updates about leaving?"
"I've got sky-high orders to get the base locked down, and secure Echo building."
Hilpiper laughed. "You want my men to fill in as MPs? I'm not sure I understand."
Smith sighed. "Echo building is where the sick men are kept, right?"
Hilpiper sighed back. "Affirmative. I've had to visit too many sick men there for comfort. What's going on?"
"The head of the science program on base just called here and ordered that we have to burn it to the ground ... and take care of anything that comes out."
"Wha ... what exactly is going to come out? What about the occupants?"
Smith was quiet a second, failing to think of a good answer. "Sergeant, we are wasting valuable time. If there's something that comes out, it gets shot. Get your men together. They're going to need to lead this thing from the ground."
"Right."
"And I want your best snipers on roof tops ... and I want your team around the perimeter. If anything escapes the building it isn't to make it a foot past the doors."
Hilpiper paused. Not one to question orders, but if it wasn't coming from his friend, he wouldn't believe it. "Are these our boys or the towel heads coming out of there?"
Smith cringed a moment not feeling any better about having to explain this to someone than he had felt when he had heard it for himself. "They were for us but they got hit with some sort of chemical and turned them into--for lack of a better word--monsters."
"Monsters...? They can't be put down with drugs?"
"We have our orders. Get moving!" He hung up the phone, unwilling to give any more details or chances to respond.
Hilpiper hollered at his men to drop what they were doing and ready themselves for a long night. When asked what they needed to do he advised that they'd take no prisoners and to get in place before they lost the light of day and to double up on ammo. The only details he gave them were shoot to kill and take absolutely no prisoners. Everyone coming out of Echo building was considered hostile.
Sergeant Smith showed up at the Echo building, skidding his big 4X4 in the dust as he stopped. He walked straight to the Major like a man on the mission. He was the first man in front of Echo Building. Major Stevenson hadn't beaten him there because he'd never left the front of the building. He had to be absolutely sure that no one attempted to enter, or be permitted to leave. Sergeant Smith went up to the Major and snapped off a textbook salute.
"Where the hell are all the men, Sergeant Smith!?"
"Sir, I just got off the phone with you five minutes ago. It takes time."
Stevenson barked at him, "Time is something we don't have! We don't have any God damn time! We need them here and we need them now! Do I make myself absolutely crystal clear!?"
Smith nodded, slowly peering around the Major, and really started to wonder what the hell was such a threat in that building. He picked up his walkie-talkie and hit different channels talking to the convoy of military transport trucks to step it up a notch. He was met with the same answer he'd just given the Major. Most of the men were sitting in front of their barracks, grilling supper and drinking a cold one. "Just tell 'em it's not a drill!" he shouted at each.
Giant trucks could be seen stopping at the on-base living quarters, and at different buildings which might still have an evening crew. Working men were jumping out with bull horns screaming at soldiers to get their fatigues on and to exit the trucks ASAP, this was not a drill, and this was not optional. Within minutes the trucks were being loaded with men running out carrying boots and jackets in their hands, yelling at each other.
The men climbed into the giant dark green transport trucks, filing in and sitting tight together. These were made for capacity not quality of ride. Once a truck was full, it would head directly to the Echo building. The Major's eyes lit up when he saw a stream of green trucks coming towards him on the horizon, thinking this might be enough people to work. Smith ran to meet the trucks coming in, yelling to each driver to line up two hundred yards from the building and to wait to be called forward before allowing the men to disembark.
Smith saw the four trucks that he was waiting for. He had called them as soon as he'd gotten off the telephone with the Major and Hilpiper, having hit the armory's number on speed dial and told them to bring everything they had. These would be loaded with rifles, pistols, and rocket launchers. What he saw was hell on wheels coming straight to him. He directed the four trucks to line up in a row. Each had a team of men who were sitting in the back with the cargo, awaiting orders, and would take cha
rge of distribution.
Smith ran over to the truck and jumped up to each one giving specific directions. "You make sure everyone gets enough ammo that they'll run out of targets before bullets! If they don't know how to use them have a man standing next to the truck to give a quick explanation!" He signaled for the first truck to come around with the first fifty men. He noticed that the Major was standing with only a 1911 .45 caliber pistol. He signaled to a soldier. "Get an AR and ammo and run it over to the Major! He'd love to have something to use in case of the worst!" A soldier did as asked, but the Major refused there would be plenty of soldiers better versed in the usage of an assault rifle.
Smith stood back, waiting patiently, letting each truck get into place and then giving orders to the men to jump out, form up, and get all the goodies from the trucks. Rushing a situation did nothing to improve upon it--he knew it was a good idea to take that extra second to give instruction to those who have never done anything more than turn a wrench on an engine or figure out how much lasagna to cook for a battalion of a thousand men. The two weeks' weapons training these type of soldiers would have had was not enough to get them through a day like today.
Once all of the men were armed and as ready as they could be to fight, he called over the mobile radio to Hilpiper to get all of his men front and center minus the snipers. "I want you to get all your boys! We have approximately five hundred armed soldiers! I want each one of your ten men to take fifty men! We're going to set a perimeter so nothing gets out of that building--remember if it comes out it dies! You make sure your men know that and they give direct orders to the men under them and leave nothing to the imagination! Tell them if anything gets close to them, they could die--it's that black and white! Is that affirmative!?"
Hilpiper looked at each of his men. All of their eyes showed they were hungry to neutralize the threat. "Men! We might have some ugly coming out of that building! You make God damn sure if it touches the outside of the building, you take care of 'em! Remember everything you've learned over the years and you'll be okay! You take control and lead by example for the men under you, and they will step up and help take care of business!"