by Steven Bird
Pulling back on the charging handle and locking the bolt to the rear, he explained, ���After firing the last round, the magazine follower causes the bolt to be locked rearward, like this. When that happens, press this button with your trigger finger to release the old magazine, then insert a new one, tapping it firmly to ensure it���s fully seated.
���Once the fresh magazine is securely in place, smack the bolt catch with your left hand to release the bolt, allowing it to travel forward, loading a round out of the new magazine into the chamber. You can also pull back on the charging handle to release it, but it���s quicker to just smack the left side of the rifle with your left hand to get the bolt to go home when you���re in the middle of a shit storm and need to get back on target. Either way, as long as the new magazine is in place, a round will be chambered once the bolt goes home, and you���ll be back in the fight.���
Pointing to the safety selector, Mason said, ���Like I said before, these are semi-auto only. They���re missing the fun mode. Safe and fire are your only two options. Keep it on safe when we���re moving. I don���t want to get shot in the leg or the back just because you bump into something. But keep this switch in your head, so you can get a shot off when you need to without fumbling around. When you bring the rifle to bear, your thumb should come up to the safety selector simultaneously. Locate your target, click it off, squeeze the trigger.���
���Okay, I think I���ve got it,��� Dr. Hunter said. ���Hopefully it won���t come to that. We don���t even know how many more infected are out there.���
���I go first,��� Vasily said as he held his rifle at the low ready and worked his way to the front door of the station manager���s office.
Falling in behind Vasily were Dr. Hunter and Neville, with Mason bringing up the rear to keep an eye on their six.
Working their way down the main hallway, Vasily paused and checked the knob to one of the rooms located between the two adjacent hallways. Feeling that it was unlocked, he knocked softly and listened with his ear just inches from the door. Hearing nothing, he nodded to the others as he began to slowly rotate the knob, pushing the door open as he peeked inside.
With a disappointed sigh, he opened the door to reveal a woman in her mid-forties leaning back in an office chair next to a computer. With her arms hanging to her side, the last few drops of her blood trickled onto the floor from the apparently self-inflicted wounds on her wrists.
���Good heavens!��� Neville said as his eyes darted around the morbid scene.
���I guess it was all too much for her,��� Mason said. ���Hell, this would be too much for most people.���
Closing the door, Vasily continued down the hallway. Opening the next door on his left in the same cautious manner, Vasily placed his hand on the knob only to find it locked. Knocking gently on the door, he was startled by what sounded like a chair being knocked over. Stepping back, he motioned for the group to continue.
Reaching the end of the hallway, Vasily pointed to the placard on the door that read, ���MAC COMMS.���
Turning the lever-style knob with his left hand, he gripped the pistol-grip of his rifle with the stock under his elbow for leverage, ready for what might come on the other side.
As he slowly opened the door, he saw a man kneeling over a coworker. He couldn���t see what the man was doing, but could see a pool of drying blood on the floor beneath them.
���Hey,��� he said quietly to get the man���s attention.
Turning slowly toward them, Vasily could see blood on the man���s face, along with the tell-tale signs of the infection. As the man turned to stand, Vasily could see that the infected man was feeding on the entrails of his victim.
Through gritted teeth, Vasily said in his native language, �����������, �������� ������������!��� as he raised his rifle, firing one well-placed shot into the forehead of the infected man, dropping him on top of his victim.
Rushing into the room behind Vasily, Mason looked at the macabre scene and said, ���Holy hell!���
With a look of disgust on his face, Vasily said, ���He was feeding on him.���
���What did you say���in Russian? What was that?���
Shaking his head, Vasily insisted, ���I should not repeat.��� Looking up, he added, ���Lord would not like.���
���Let���s go!��� Neville insisted. ���Others may have heard the shot.���
���Wait,��� said Dr. Hunter. ���The radios! Let���s try to reach someone on the radios!���
Pulling the door shut behind them, Mason said, ���Let���s get with it then, so we can get out of here. Neville is right.���
Walking over to the main communications desk, the men were bewildered by the complexity of the equipment.
���Well, who���s the radio geek?��� asked Mason.
���Black Island,��� said Neville.
���Huh?��� queried Mason.
���All of McMurdo���s communications are relayed through the radio facility on Black Island. Maybe we can reach someone there? They are very isolated and may not be suffering the same fate.���
���That���s right!��� Dr. Hunter replied.
���I can work,��� said Vasily as he sat down at the console and began familiarizing himself with the radio equipment. Thumbing through a Standard Operating Procedures (SOP) manual he found on a small shelf off to the side of the desk, Vasily selected a frequency through the transmitter���s preselect options, and handed the microphone over to Dr. Hunter. ���You talk,��� he said.
Keying the transmit button on the microphone, Dr. Hunter said, ���Black Island, or anyone else for that matter, are you there?���
Waiting for a brief moment, Dr. Hunter keyed up again, saying, ���If anyone is there, please respond.���
Seeing the RX light illuminate on the console, they heard a frantic voice say, ���Mac Ops, this is Black Island. What the hell is going on over there?���
���Black Island, this is Dr. Nathan Hunter from MEVO. We are transmitting from Mac Ops, but…���
���MEVO? What the hell? Where is Keith, Rob, Luis, or Jessie? Where are the Mac Ops COMMS guys?���
���I don���t know where to begin,��� Dr. Hunter replied.
���Look, I���ve been hearing a lot of shit over the radio and I���m about to lose my damn mind out here. What the hell is going on? After reports of some sort of attack on Mac-Town, I started hearing similar things from Christchurch. Then, the other major research bases, such as Palmer, Scott Base, Amundson, and others, started going dark. The only people I can raise now are at a few of the smaller, more remote facilities, and they are scared to death that no one is coming for them and that they���ll soon starve. It���s the end of the season, and they���re not stocked with supplies to stay out any longer. What can you tell me? What the hell is going on?���
Clearing his throat, Dr. Hunter keyed up and said, ���There���s been an outbreak. People who contract the associated illness become extremely violent. Mac-Town looks like a horror movie. We too, couldn���t get transport from MEVO and had to make our way back via snowmobile. Since we���ve made it, we���ve witnessed some horrible, horrible things.���
After a moment of silence, the voice from Black Island said, ���Are you shitting me? This isn���t a good time to be funny. You can shove your practical jokes up your ass. We need a damn ride out of here and so do the others at the outlying facilities. I need to talk to someone there with a clue, and ASAP.���
���Look, we aren���t shitting you. Like I said, this is Dr.
Nathan Hunter. I am the principle investigator at MEVO. We���re in the same boat as you. Now, what can you tell us about what you���ve heard from Christchurch?���
With stress in the man���s voice, they heard, ���They said the same thing you did���that there had been an outbreak. They wouldn���t give details, but it was assumed to be a biological attack of some sort that arrived via a transport plane. The last report I heard before they went dark was that the military was getting involved. The guy wished me luck, and I never heard from them again. That was yesterday.���
���You���re saying Christchurch, New Zealand, is no longer transmitting?��� Dr. Hunter asked, unable to believe his ears.
���That���s right. We���re all screwed,��� the man said, clearly distressed.
���Are you there alone?��� Dr. Hunter asked.
���Just me and������
Before the radio operator could answer, another voice came over the speaker. ���This is Black Island Station Manager Louis Radcliff, what the hell is going on over there?���
���Look,��� Dr. Hunter explained, ���Like I was telling your counterpart, this is Dr. Nathan Hunter, Principle Investigator from MEVO. There has been an outbreak, and McMurdo has been all but wiped out. You can ask him for the details once we get off the air, but for now, can you tell us when and if help is coming?���
���Hell no, it ain���t coming,��� the man who identified himself as Louis Radcliff replied. ���It sounded to me like they had too much on their hands to worry about the likes of us. They didn���t say that in so many words, but I got the gist of it. Like Chuck here was saying when I walked in the room, they also said the military was involved, which really tells me we���re fucked. Whether the civil authorities have relinquished control of the situation, or it was taken from them, either way it says all we need to know. Since then, they���ve gone dark. I can still tell someone out there is sparking up, but it���s nothing I can tune in.
���Chuck and I are gonna hunker down here. I suggest you do the same if you can. We���re in for a long ride, boys.���
Keying the mic to respond, Dr. Hunter���s transmission was interrupted by the deafening crack of a shotgun blast. Turning quickly to see Neville standing there shaking, with smoke emanating from the shotgun���s barrel. Behind Neville, he could see a dead, severely infected woman lying on the floor with her brains scattered in a fan-like pattern behind her.
���I killed her! Oh, God, no!��� shouted Neville. ���I had to! I swear!���
Putting his hand on Neville, Mason said, ���She was sick. You���re right, you had to. She would have infected one of us, or worse, if you hadn���t. You did the right thing.���
���We go now!��� Vasily insisted. ���More will come. My shot brought her, and Neville���s will bring more.���
Chapter Sixteen
Crary Lab
Unable to sleep, even with the assurance that Dr. Perkins was dutifully standing watch, Dr. Graves found herself staring at the ceiling, worrying incessantly over Brett���s potential contamination during his encounter with Jared and Jenny. Looking over to him, seeing that he had finally been able to fall sound asleep, she relaxed, thinking, surely, he would be showing signs by now.
Awakened by what sounded like someone bumping into furniture, Dr. Graves���s heart raced. She was disoriented, realizing that she had finally found the deep sleep that had seemed so elusive since the onset of the outbreak. Looking over to her left toward the source of the sound, she saw Brett walking across the room toward Dr. Bentley, who was standing watch after having relieved Dr. Perkins.
���Gerald!��� she shouted, while rolling over to her side and struggling to her feet as fast as she could in an attempt to warn Dr. Bentley.
Startled by her cry, Dr. Bentley quickly turned to her, saying, ���What is it, Linda? What���s troubling you, my dear?���
���Brett!���
���Yes, what about him?��� Dr. Bentley replied, as Brett turned to her with a look of confusion. ���We���re just having a pleasant conversation.���
���Yeah,��� said Brett as he rubbed his forehead. ���I���ve got one of those killer headaches that feels like it���s right behind your eye. I couldn���t sleep, so I figured I���d keep Dr. Bentley company.���
Realizing her mistake, she placed her hand over her pounding heart and said, ���Sorry. I… I woke up when I heard something and…���
Smiling, Brett said, ���It���s okay. I understand. Sorry that I bumped into the end table and startled you. I was pacing back and forth and wasn���t paying attention. Don���t worry. I���m not feeling anything but a headache. Headaches are kind of normal for me.���
Shaking her head and chuckling at her own reaction, she said, ���No, I���m sorry.���
���Damn it, Linda. I had just fallen asleep,��� moaned Dr. Perkins from across the room.���
Before she could reply, they heard a loud, metallic thud from the lower level of the building. The sound echoed through the empty hallways, as the winds outside still pounded the facility with what seemed to be a relentless assault.
���What the hell was that?��� asked Dr. Perkins.
���If I were a betting man, I would say we are no longer alone in this building,��� replied Dr. Bentley.
���That���s assuming we ever were,��� Brett mumbled as he listened carefully with his ear on the door.
As another loud thud reverberated through the building, the group looked at each other in the darkness, with only the flickering light of an emergency candle obtained from the lounge���s kitchen cabinets to illuminate the room.
Hearing a door open, Brett said, ���That was the door at the bottom of the stairwell.���
���Maybe it���s the guys,��� Dr. Graves said optimistically.
���Maybe, but I don���t think so,��� replied Brett.
���What makes you say that?��� asked Dr. Perkins.
���They wouldn���t be making all that racket. They���d be moving quietly and methodically, not bumping around and violently opening doors.���
Reaching to his belt for his ice axe, Brett said, ���Shit!��� as the realization set in that he���d left his ice axe on the mezzanine walkway after his encounter with Jared.
Holding his finger up to his lips, Brett walked over and extinguished the candle as the group listened intently to the sounds that appeared to be drawing closer.
Gathering around the corner in the kitchen area, next to the door to the second stairwell, the group heard a door swing open, banging into its stops. Nearly screaming out of fright, Dr. Graves held her own hand tightly over her mouth and kept her eyes closed, trying to paint a picture in her mind from the sounds she heard.
���That was the door to the mezzanine walkway,��� whispered Brett.
Hearing heavy, clumsy footsteps walk out onto the mezzanine, Dr. Graves whispered, ���Jenny is still out there.���
The sounds of the footsteps soon ceased, and then, sending chills up their spines, a loud animalistic roar emanated from the mezzanine.
Through the sounds of the pounding winds, they could hear similar shrieking cries outside the Crary Lab.
���Dear Lord,��� Dr. Bentley whispered, ���Were those replies?���
The group sat silent in the darkness, their hearing being their only link to the world around them, painting a horrifying picture for their imaginations.
Hearing more noises from the lower floor of the lab, Linda whispered, ���My God, you���re right. They were replies. They���re communic
ating.���
���I must say, the rapid advancement of the condition of the hosts is quite concerning.���
���Concerning?��� replied Brett. ���It���s a bit more than concerning, don���t you think?���
Hearing the stairwell door abruptly swing open once again, followed by the sounds of several sets of footsteps beginning to stagger their way up the stairs, Dr. Perkins whispered, ���Holy shit! What the hell are we going to do?���
���We���re gonna stop talking and stay put for now,��� Brett whispered.
~~~~
McMurdo Ops
Working their way down the stairwell on the northwest end of the McMurdo Operations building, Vasily led the way, followed by Dr. Hunter, Neville, and Mason.
Gently pushing the stairwell door open, Vasily looked out into the center hallway of the operations building, and said, ���I see no threats,��� as he continued to push the door open, allowing the others to slip through and into the hallway alongside him. Carefully closing the door to avoid making a sound, Vasily motioned for the group to follow. Looking back at Neville as they began to move, Vasily whispered, ���Do not cover me with your barrel, and take your damn finger off the trigger,��� reminding Neville to be vigilant in regard to his shotgun���s muzzle and trigger discipline, as he had accidentally swept him with it on several occasions.
���Sorry,��� whispered Neville as he quickly repositioned the weapon.
Seeing a figure move across the hall in front of them, Vasily motioned for them to take visual cover as he ducked behind a stainless-steel drinking fountain. Quickly taking refuge in the recessed opening of a set of double-doors that led into the air traffic control facility, the other three men watched as the figure staggered and stumbled into a room at the end of the hallway.
Just as Vasily raised his hand to signal them to move forward, the lights throughout the building went dark, and the sounds of the building���s environmental systems fell silent.