by John O'Brien
The sun has yet to make its daily appearance but the eastern sky has started to lighten as Lynn wakes up early the next morning and heads over to the gym. The night chill still hangs in the air as she sleepily makes her way amongst the darkened buildings under the outside lights on the building entrances and along the avenues. I need 6 miles today, Lynn mumbles thinking about the marathon she is planning when she returns to the states and the missed run yesterday. Stepping up on the treadmill, she thinks about how nice it will be to sleep in when she gets back, and to see Jack. And drive my Jeep, she thinks, watching the first mile pass by.
With six miles and a shower under her belt, Lynn is once again back at the barracks and frustrated that the Internet is still down. With nothing much to do in the barracks, she decides to head into work early. Finished dressing, she heads back out into the desert as the sun crests the eastern horizon over the gulf just a few miles away. With another omelet filling her up, she walks into work noticing again the lack of personnel around. It’s early yet though, she thinks logging onto her workstation. The several enlisted and NCO’s that are in the room with her are clustered around a desk close by shooting the shit. Close enough that she can overhear some of their conversation as she starts through her email.
“Did you hear that Sergeant Vosel was attacked by Private Edwich last night?” One voice from the group says.
“I heard he killed him,” a second voice says.
“I’ve heard of several attacks over in zone two and that some of the medics were attacked,” says yet a third voice.
“I have a friend over in an MP squad that says they had to round up several people who were just running around attacking others at random. I don’t know if I believe it or not, he’s full of shit sometimes,” one of the voices speaks out.
“And what’s up with all of these sick calls?” The first voice asks. “I don’t want to cover yet again.”
“I’ve actually heard some of those on sick call have died.”
The conversation doesn’t exactly stop but the volume dies to the point where Lynn can only hear an occasional murmur and wonders if she is going to have to cover another shift. Not that it matters much really now, there’s not much else to do with the Internet down, she thinks concentrating and focusing once again on the redeployment.
After responding to a few more messages and making sure everyone is doing what they should be doing and where they should be, Lynn stands up, stretches, and heads outside for a break. There has been no sign of Captain Braser and she is quite thankful for that. The assault of heat greets her as she steps into the bright mid-morning sun. Lynn sees her friend standing by the corner of the building having a smoke and walks over.
“Sergeant Connell,” he says and nods, inhaling on the cigarette between his fingers, as Lynn steps up in front of him. Dressed in the same digital uniform with Sergeant First Class Stripes on the front and standing a good six inches taller than her, she has to tilt her head up slightly to look him in the eyes.
“Sergeant Drescoll,” she says, noticing the bags under his slightly bloodshot brown eyes. “Stay up late?” She asks.
“Yeah. Had to cover an additional shift last night,” Drescoll says taking the cigarette from his mouth and exhaling; the smoke drifting away from the two of them.
“Me too. It looks like more of the same tonight although I haven’t seen the Captain yet.”
“God, I hope not. I’m exhausted from last night and just want to sleep,” Sergeant Drescoll says in response. “I heard rumors over at the office of some attacks last night. I mean, our own people attacking each other.”
“I just heard the same thing inside,” Lynn says glancing back toward the building entrance.
“I also heard they’re going to start quarantining those who report to sick call with the flu. I hope that’s not the case; there are enough out as it is.” Lynn merely nods at this wondering how long they’re going to be short staffed and how far behind this is going to put the redeployment.
“You know,” Drescoll says stubbing out his smoke, “I also heard there are a lot of people dying from this shit.”
“Well, that’s already in the news,” Lynn replies remembering the news articles she read and commented on with Jack.
“No! I mean from the vaccinations,” Sergeant Drescoll says with emphasis. “You get yours yet?”
“No, I was planning to get it after lunch or work.”
“Hmm, I’d wait as long as I could if I were you. Well, back to the grind,” he says crushing his cigarette butt in the ash can and starts off across the sandy strip towards his building.
“See ya later,” Lynn says, heading back to her building.
With her hand on the door handle, its heat radiating into her palm, she hears a shout from behind her. Turning to look over her shoulder, she sees Sergeant Drescoll standing mid-way between buildings looking at her.
“What?” She says shouting back.
“Lunch?” He calls back.
“Sure,” Lynn answers opening the door and steps into the darker and cooler building, wondering if there is anything to what Drescoll said.
The same rumor from two different sources, but rumors were rumors and she has tried to stay away from the rumor mill during her fourteen-year career; thus far being mostly successful. Even so, Drescoll worked in Intel and so may have more of a clue than others. And, he wasn’t one to pass on rumors or talk just for the sake of hearing himself. Shrugging it off but keeping it in some small part of her mind, she settles into her desk to finish some paperwork before lunch. The others inside have also settled into their seats working on their assigned tasks.
Finishing up her lunch with Sergeant Drescoll, Lynn and he step out from the dining facility with the sun hammering down; the heat instantly bakes them and causes a sheen of sweat to quickly appear on their foreheads. A squeal over the loudspeaker mounted on a pole close by them greets them as well indicaing a coming announcement. “Attention all personnel. The Cape Town Flu vaccinations are temporarily suspended at this time. Repeat. All Cape Town flu vaccinations are suspended at this time.”
“I guess that takes care of that,” Lynn says after the echo of the blasting loudspeaker silences.
“Guess so,” Drescoll says. “Glad I waited.”
“Me too,” Lynn responds and they part company, each heading back towards their respective areas.
On her way, Lynn wonders again at the validity of the rumors. The military loves their shots so wouldn’t cancel a vaccination unless there was something very wrong. What if people were actually getting sicker from the shot? How long until people are back? I sure hope this doesn’t delay my return home, she thinks arriving back at the office. Oh my god, I hope Jack didn’t get one. What am I thinking? Of course he didn’t. He wouldn’t even go to the doctor for his knee.
Back at her desk, there is an email from brigade stating that the flu vaccinations are suspended verifying the loudspeaker announcement. With the other personnel out sick, there is actually quite a bit to do and the day passes by quickly. There has been no sign of Captain Braser and most of the others in the office left at 1600. At 1700, Lynn logs off her workstation and heads out of the now almost empty building. An odd feeling settles over her, this building has never been this empty, she thinks heading out into the late afternoon after making sure there is coverage through the night for the operations center.
The suffocating heat still permeates the outdoors but is cooling somewhat as Lynn finishes her dinner and heads back to the barracks. I hope the internet is up, she thinks approaching the door to her convex barracks. Only a couple of weeks and I am outta here. Opening the rear door to the barracks, the coolness of the interior rushes out, chilling her and causing goose bumps to run up her arm. The large interior is broken up by bunk beds with wall lockers breaking the area up into smaller, more private cubicles.
Her “roommate’s” bunk is just inside the door to the left sharing the private space with her own against the left han
d corner. Her roommate is lying on the lower bunk. Just as the door begins to close, the loudspeaker squeals once again. Knowing retreat has already sounded, Lynn turns to hold the door open and listens, “Attention all personnel. Anyone experiencing flu symptoms are to report immediately to zone 2. Repeat. Anyone experiencing flu symptoms are ordered to report to zone 2. If you notice anyone with flu symptoms, you are to notify security immediately. That is all.”
Wow! This is getting serious, Lynn thinks heading to her corner and grabbing her laptop out of her footlocker. Finding that there is still not an internet connection and suspecting it is purposely being blocked, she reaches for her book as a chill runs up her spine accompanied by a sad and lonely feeling. Tomorrow is her day off and this was supposed to be one of the times that she and Jack could talk longer. I hope he’s okay, she thinks settling onto her lower bunk and opening her book. She reads until the lights go out at 2000 and falls asleep in her fatigues with her boots by the side of her bunk.
A groaning sound awakens her in the middle of the night. It sounds as if it is coming from the bunk next to her; her roommate’s bunk. Groggily, Lynn opens her eyes to a mostly dark barracks lit only by the exit lights at either end of the building. Accustomed to the various sounds of people sleeping in close proximity, she rolls over and closes her eyes attempting to get back to sleep. The moaning sound penetrates her sleepy mind once again. I can’t wait to get out of this place and have some privacy, she thinks, the sleepiness slowly vanishing. Not wanting to get up but remembering the loudspeaker announcement, she shucks off her blanket and sits up, rubbing the sleepiness from her eyes.
Swinging her legs over and setting her feet on the cool concrete floor, she reaches overhead grabbing her flashlight. Flicking the light on but cupped in her hand, letting only a little light shine through her fingers, she stands up and quietly walks over to where her roommate is.
“Are you okay?” She asks, letting a small ray of light illuminate her roommate’s face.
Although there’s only a small amount of light, Lynn clearly sees her roommate lying in the bunk with her blanket pulled up to her chin, her fingers gripping the blanket edges as if it might fly away. Only her face peeks out from under it. The sight of her roommate’s face sends a chill crawling, well, not crawling but racing up Lynn’s spine. Peeking up from her sweat-soaked pillow, her roommate’s eyes squint against the light; they are swollen and her face is ashen. Beads of sweat form on her forehead and run down her temples and cheeks. Drool has formed at the corner of her mouth, ready to join its compadres on the journey down her face.
“I’m fine,” her roommate half breathes and moans attempting normal speech.
“You have to go to zone 2. I’ll help you,” Lynn says reaching a hand out to her.
“I said I’m fine,” her roommate says shrinking further back into the pillow.
Lynn stands, walks back to her bunk, sits on the edge, and slips her boots on by the light of the flashlight placed next to her on the bed. Lacing up her boots and donning her fatigue top, she picks up her light and, shielding it once more, passes by her roommate’s bunk and heads to the back door.
“Where are you going?” A whisper calls out from the bunk.
“Out,” she responds and opens the back door into the night.
Her plan is to locate an MP on the way to her office, or, failing that, call from there. Not wanting to walk all of the way to the security shop or a gate, this will be the quickest way to notify security that her roommate is exhibiting flu-like symptoms. Plus, there is the fact of not wanting to be in a close proximity to someone with a reported highly contagious sickness. Stepping out into the chill of the night air and into the circle of light cast by the light over the doorway, she starts off toward her work building and is swallowed up immediately by the dark. The stars overhead cast a clear brilliance that only the desert can bring; the ground around is lit only at intervals by rings of light cast by the camp lights with the areas in between an inky black.
Strolling from one ring of lights to another, she rounds the corner of one building and starts up a central avenue lit at intervals by the pole-mounted lights. Not taking three steps along the sandy avenue, a shriek shatters the stillness, coming from far away only to be followed a second later by a second one from the same area. Coming to a stop, Lynn listens and unconsciously moves closer to the side of the avenue by a building. The chatter of rifle fire erupts from the general area of where the shrieks occurred. What the fuck is going on? Lynn thinks suddenly aware she is unarmed and wishing for her M-16. Are we under attack? Where’s the alarm?
Another shriek sounds out from across the camp followed by a much louder one close by. Damn, that sounded like it came from just up ahead, she thinks starting cautiously up the avenue again. What the hell is that? Up ahead, two figures emerge out onto the avenue a few buildings ahead and begin running in her direction, passing in and out of the circles of light. With the reminder that gunshots were fired and people may be rather trigger happy, she shrinks back out of the circle of light she was standing in. With an ear-piercing shriek, the two up ahead alter their course and race directly at her. Crap, they saw me, she thinks looking off to the sides and around her for some place to head just in case.
A building away, with the fatigue-clad figures racing toward her, another figure emerges into the area, skidding to a halt.
“Hey, you two! Where are you going?” The new figure calls out at the two running ones just ahead of him. The two figures adjust their course in mid-stride, angling now toward the newcomer. Standing in the shadows, Lynn watches the scene unfold.
The two running figures show no signs of slowing up as they quickly close their distance. “Hey, what are yo….?” He calls out but doesn’t finish as, with a combined shriek, the two plow into him, one launching into the air.
The soldier standing there only has time enough to raise his hands before he is catapulted backwards, his feet leave the ground, and he slams onto his back with the two on top. Dust billows out behind him from the impact with the ground. A struggle ensues, with more dust rising into the air around them, but it is short-lived. With a scream, a human one this time, the lone figure under the two attackers becomes still. On their knees, leaning over the stricken soldier, the two begin tearing into him with their teeth, gnashing like dogs and tearing chunks of flesh off. One raises his head shrieking into the night sky, blood painting its lower face.
Lynn’s initial reaction is to run to the soldier’s aid but it is over so quick that she never makes two steps in his direction. Another shriek sounds out of the darkness amongst the barracks close behind her. Okay, that’s enough for me, Lynn thinks and heads off across the road, using the shadows for concealment.
Settling between buildings and feeling somewhat protected in the dark, Lynn hunches down against one of the buildings. What the fuck was that and what the hell is going on here? She thinks remembering the rumors floating through her office and from her friend. That could have been me and I would have been oblivious until it was too late. More thoughts come at lightning speed, filling her mind as time progresses slowly in the physical world; who to trust and how to figure who to trust. Is this an isolated event? In seeming answer, the sounds of more shrieks and gunfire off in the distance reach her in the darkness, along with the closer sounds from the avenue in front of growling and the wet sounds of flesh being rendered and eaten.
Well, I can’t stay here, that’s for sure. She thinks rising slowly to her feet. Calling security from the phone still sounds like a good idea although for different reasons now. Stay quiet and in the dark and trust no one. Finding a weapon might not be a bad idea.
Lynn turns toward the back of the building and silently creeps along it, the sounds out front grow dimmer as she nears the back corner. Another smaller avenue appears in front of her running between this row of buildings and another one across the way. With only smaller circles of light appearing by entrance doors, the light here is not as prevalent as out
front so the center of this smaller avenue is almost completely dark. Kneeling by the corner, Lynn sees the back of the operations center a short distance down the row of buildings she is currently on. She heads out into the middle of the avenue; giving her the darkest route to the operations center but knowing she won’t be able to see whatever those things were that attacked the soldier out front; her ears vigilant for any sounds close by. What am I thinking? Those were soldiers and I am thinking of them as things, she thinks stepping lightly along the sand path. No, those weren’t soldiers. At least not rational ones. No one rational attacks another and eats them.
Keeping to the dark with only the sounds of distant shots, shrieks, and the occasional generator running to keep her company, she arrives at the operations center building. Pausing at a darkened corner of the building, she listens for anything close by. Lights illuminate several of the windows along the side. Well, someone was here after I left, she thinks pondering her best approach at the door lit by a light above. I could break the light I suppose, her suddenly becoming very reluctant to enter into any light.
Looking at the windows along the side of the building, she realizes they are too high to look in, or to climb in for that matter. I’ll just try the door quickly, Lynn thinks rising from her crouched position. Sliding along the back of the building, she approaches the demarcation of light and shadow, listening once again for sounds. Taking a deep breath, she steps into the light and walks briskly to the door. Grasping the handle, she pulls it towards her; the steel door gives a little before stopping with a metallic clunk, indicating it is locked from within. She is just about to turn and head back into the shadows when a voice calls from within, “Who’s there?”
“Sergeant Connell,” Lynn whispers loudly, not wanting her voice to carry.
“Who?” The voice within asks again.
“Just open the fucking door!” She says firmly and louder this time.