Up From the Depths

by J. R. Jackson

  “MOAB,” Frazier said, pulling the lower part of the balaclava he wore under his CVC down and answering the question before anyone could ask. He then readjusted the balaclava and stood back up in the hatch as the vehicle started moving again.

  ***

  Luzetski picked himself up and looked around. The abandoned cars that had been on the street were now tossed haphazardly like a child’s playthings. A massive mushroom cloud hung over the central part of Manhattan Island. He knew that enough high explosives could create such a plume. The nukes would come later. He glanced over to where Pruitt had been but couldn’t see him. Struggling to his feet, he grabbed a Marine and helped him to his feet as well. Looking around, he saw wounded laying on the street or sprawled over the top of the debris, all coated with a fine layer of whitish-gray dust. Jiminez staggered over and grabbed Ski.

  “You see that shit?” the Puerto Rican corporal asked before he staggered off into the dust cloud. Ski watched him go, numb from the shockwave and ringing in his ears. He started to follow Sierra-3’s commo man when he tripped over something and fell to his knees. Looking down, he saw Pruitt leaning against an overturned car, holding onto a spear of metal that protruded from his stomach.

  “Hey, Ski,” Pruitt said calmly. “Can you believe this shit?”

  “What the fuck?” Ski said. “Man down! Medic!”

  “Don’t worry about me, it’s just a scratch,” Pruitt said as he tried to stand before collapsing back against the car.

  “Medic!” Ski shouted again as he pulled out his IFAK, grabbed the 4" Israeli bandage and QuickClot gauze. Pruitt’s head sagged to his chest as he lost consciousness.

  “You stay with me you hear?” Ski said as he struggled to stem the flow of blood from the wound.

  Sierra-3’s marksman held onto the large piece of metal even while unconscious. Luzetski himself had felt the sting as a small piece of shrapnel had burrowed into the back of his right hand. He wasn’t aware that he had pulled it out sometime in the last few minutes. It left a bloody gash but he was still able to make a fist and use his weapon. Around him, he heard DeMillio’s Marines call out for a corpsman.

  “You’re going home. Stay with me,” Ski said as he applied another wrap over the wound. Blood was already seeping into Pruitt’s pants and pooling on the asphalt beneath him, stark red against the white layer of dust and ash that coated everything.

  “Medic!” Ski called out again.

  Graham appeared, jogging out of the dissipating cloud and sliding to a stop like a baseball player stealing home. He shrugged off his pack as he began visually assessing the injury.

  “How’s it look?” Pruitt asked weakly as he regained consciousness. One hand was patting the ground around him. “Where’s my rifle?” he asked. Ski looked around and spotted Pruitt’s weapon laying a few meters away.

  “Easy man. It’s ok. Ski’s got your weapon,” Graham said as he pulled on his last pair of surgical gloves and tore open the Mylar pouch that contained a HemCon ChitoFlex stuffable wound dressing.

  “Where’s my rifle?” Pruitt asked more forcibly then he looked down at his injury.

  “Oh fuck," he gasped out. "Doc, will I dance again?” he asked, trying to inject a little humor. Graham noted the change in Pruitt's speech patterns and the way he was gasping out words. Those symptoms meant that there was also a diaphragmatic rupture.

  “I won’t be playing the piano anymore,” Pruitt muttered before his head sagged to his chest. Graham used the back of his hand and wiped the dust mixed with sweat from his face as he worked on the wound. The wound was ragged and he could see that the shard had penetrated through the muscle layers of the lower abdomen and quite probably into a few of the internal organs. He wasn’t sure what was damaged because of all the blood.

  “Ski! I need another set of hands here,” Graham called out. Ski moved closer to where the team medic worked.

  “I need you to grab that large package in my med bag. It says abdominal on it," Graham said. "You see it?"

  "I got it," Ski said.

  "OK. Put it beside my leg and then come over here and support him while I roll him over to get a look at the exit wound."

  Ski nodded, tossed the package next to Graham's leg then crouched down and steadied Pruitt as Graham slowly rolled him over. Pruitt, though semi conscious, screamed as the waves of pain hit him.

  "Oh God!" Pruitt gasped. "Make it stop!" Tears flowed from the marksman's eyes.

  The blood that had pooled under him made a wet sucking sound as it released its grip on Pruitt’s pants. The shard exited just above Pruitt’s left buttock.

  "Hold him," Graham said as he began packing the HemCon into the wound. When he was finished, he tore open the package that contained the Israeli abdominal emergency bandage and began wrapping Pruitt. He leaned Pruitt towards him as he worked; listening to the injured man's labored breathing. He had just leaned Pruitt back against the car and secured the ends of the bandage when a Navy corpsman in Marine MARPAT jogged over and dropped his pack.

  “I’m a corpsman. Where do you need me?” he asked as he pulled a pair of blue nitrile surgical gloves from a pocket on his vest and donned them.

  Graham looked up and nodded at the new arrival.

  “I need you to start an IV.”

  “On it.”

  Luzetski watched the two medics work then brought his rifle up to scan the area.

  Graham looked over at the corpsman as the other medic prepared to do an intraosseous infusion, or IO. The corpsman cut Pruitt's pants at the knee exposing the leg then readied the NIO, or New Intra Osseous device.

  "Pruitt, look at me," Graham said. "You're going to feel a little pinch. That's the start of an IV." He watched Pruitt's eyes focus on him and his head nod. Graham looked back at the corpsman and nodded. Pruitt moaned as the device punctured his leg and went into the bone. The corpsman adjusted the IV flow and then looked at Graham. Both of them shared a knowing look. Without an immediate medical evacuation to a trauma center, the outcome was not positive.

  Sporadic small arms firing kicked in as some of the Marines began to engage the infected that had somehow made it through the MOAB detonation.

  The rumble of a vehicle could be heard over the firing but was blotted out as the thundering of a large caliber weapon fired. Ski looked back and saw what he first thought was a Stryker until the small turret became visible through the smoke and flying dust. The 25mm cannon mounted in that turret spit fire as it slowly tracked back and forth. A Marine, standing in the commander’s hatch, fired the M240 in an arc of destruction, dropping infected. The Zulu’s who had advanced closer than Ski was comfortable with, were chopped up in a hail of deadly fire from the two weapons. At least the Marines had the right idea, Ski thought. They put a big ass heavy weapon in a turret on top of their LAV instead of a remotely operated Ma Deuce like the Army Stryker.

  The rear ramp dropped open and spilled out Doyle, Winchester and two Marines who added their rifle fire to the vehicle’s, pushing the infected back.

  “I can’t leave you anywhere without you getting into trouble,” Doyle said as she crouched down by Ski, dropped out her empty magazine and reloaded. He flashed a grin then went back to scanning the area for targets.

  “We’re good. Let’s move him out of here,” the corpsman said after making sure both ends of the shard that pierced Pruitt were stable. He then turned and unstrapped the SKEDCO case evacuation system from his pack.

  The corpsman unrolled the system then motioned towards the two other Marines from the LAV. Graham, who was monitoring the IV, stood up to give the Marines room to pick up Pruitt.

  “He needs to get to a hospital as soon as possible,” Graham said as they had moved the injured man to the SKEDCO stretcher and were now carefully lifting him. He walked alongside them to the LAV. Pruitt moaned as he was moved lapsing in and out of consciousness.

  The Marine manning the turret mounted M240B leaned over the side and shouted above the firing.

  “G
et him onboard! We got to roll!”

  Graham nodded to Ski then at the other Marines. They carried Pruitt into the LAV and laid him on the deck. The two medics went back to work, checking the wound, the IV drip, and packing more QuickClot onto the already blood soaked gauze. Ski grabbed Pruitt’s rifle and pack and followed them.

  Once they were onboard, the ramp started to close. As soon as the ramp had cleared the ground, the LAV lurched in reverse and fired several smoke grenades from the launchers mounted on the sides of the turret.

  The LAV stopped and the ramp dropped back down.

  “Let’s go! Let’s go!” Gunny Frazier yelled from the turret hatch. The Marine machine gun team picked up their weapon and hustled to the vehicle followed by the squad that DeMillio had with him. There was little room left and most of the Marines ended up climbing up and onto the back deck of the LAV. Frazier leaned down inside and looked at how every conceivable space had been filled.

  “We’re ten blocks from the beach!” he shouted over the noise of the vehicle and the 25mm cannon.

  “Ten long, hard blocks with the Zulus crawling our ass every inch of the way! Lock and Load! We’re about to enter a world of shit!”

  ***

  Chapter 44

  Joint Base Lewis/McChord (JBLM), Washington State

  The multitude of infected moved fast enough to partially surround the gun trucks as they slowed to move through another traffic snake created by the concrete barriers. These barriers had been placed prior to the military leaving the installation in an attempt to slow down hostile vehicles. Now they slowed down the Special Forces trucks as they tried to reach their extraction route. Upton worked the mass with the big .50, mowing down wave after wave like wheat before a thresher. The other heavy weapons on the convoy blew openings into the horde that were quickly filled in by what appeared to be a constant stream from the wooded hillside, the residential housing area and several of the nearby barracks buildings.

  “Fall back to the airfield!” Holroyd radioed. When none of the vehicles moved he realized that no one had heard him over the weapons fire. He looked over at the large radio mounted on the transmission tunnel and checked the settings then keyed the microphone.

  “Fall back to the airfield!” he repeated to all vehicles, he had bumped the channel selector when he had been leaning over in the back seat handing up full ammunition cans to Upton. He chanced a glance to his right and saw the lead truck accelerate away from the rest then the other vehicles start to follow it.

  He heard the M2 stop firing and glanced up.

  “Feed jam!” Upton called out as he worked the charging handle then drew his M9 and fired it through the gap between the barrel and the frame of the turret. His rounds punched into the face of an infected that had climbed up the side. He kept firing into the horde as the vehicle sped away.

  Dropping out the spent mag, his left hand grabbed a full one from his vest and slapped it in place. Hitting the slide release he shoved the Beretta into the face of an infected that had managed to get into the open rear cargo area of the MATV. Upton fired a double-tap to the infected in the center of its forehead blowing it away from the turret. Holstering the M9, Upton went back to work on the M2. He cleared the jam, jacked in a new belt then gripped the butterfly trigger of the M2. He swiveled the heavy barrel down and fired into the infected that were clinging to the sides of the armored vehicle. Heavy caliber rounds chewed into the group of disease carriers, disintegrating the closest ones and blowing chunks of flesh and body parts off the others before the vehicle cleared the barriers and sped up to rejoin the rest.

  He looked back and saw the Warpig right on his bumper, its heavy weapons brought to bear on the infected. The loud, long, burp/whirring sound accompanied by the steady stream of tracers lancing out into the infected like a laser beam, told him that the miniguns on that mobile armored weapons platform had been called into play.

  ***

  Chapter 45

  Brooks Mountain Range, Alaska

  “These boys are dug in!” Chief Petty Officer Rogers called from across the hall. “What’s your plan to get past them?”

  “It’s a surprise,” Willis yelled back as he snapped a fresh magazine into his rifle.

  “Oh goody, I love surprises,” Rogers muttered as he leaned out and put two rounds into one of the complex’s security force.

  The floors, walls and ceiling were pockmarked with bullet holes and ricochets. A gray haze hung in the air from all the weapon firing. Willis reloaded his rifle as he looked over at Hannaberry. The other SEAL had taken a round through the meaty portion of his bicep. Doc Johnson had bandaged it and determined that the bone wasn’t broken, nothing more than a bloody groove. Berry, ever the SEAL, hadn’t given up the MK48 and even with the injury; he was moving like it was nothing but a scratch. He snapped in another drum, chambered a round then crouch-walked to the end of the hall. Webb moved aside to let Berry take his place.

  Leaning out, Berry emptied the drum in short bursts at the rapidly built defensive barrier erected by Conley’s men. Rogers fired a 40mm grenade at the barrier, blowing a small section away and tossing men into the air. They were at an impasse, they couldn’t advance and neither could the enemy. Smith leaned out and studied the obstacle then ducked back as rounds chewed up the wall. Nodding to himself, he shrugged off his pack, dug through it and began placing items on the floor. Pushing his pack away, Smith pulled out his multi-tool and started work on the breeching charges. Willis divided his attention between putting out suppressive fire and what Smith was working on.

  “That’s against regs,” Willis commented looking over as he reloaded. Smith looked up from wrapping duct tape around four, one pound bricks of C4.

  “So report me,” Smith said cutting off the excess tape and inserting the detonators. Willis grinned, snapped in another magazine then leaned out and fired at the hostiles.

  Smith moved up behind Hannaberry, tapped the other SEAL on the shoulder then heaved the bundle down the hall risking a glance as it slid up against the barrier. Moving back and sitting against the wall, he removed the combination sound dampening and communications headset and skewered a special set of ear plugs into his ear canals. He removed a radio detonator from his vest.

  “You might want to duck!” he yelled out waiting for his team mates to get behind cover.

  “Fire in the hole!” he yelled as he pressed the button.

  A thunderous explosion shook the facility to its core, followed by a storm of debris that was funneled within the confines of the hall signaled the end of the incoming hostile rounds.

  The SEALs picked themselves up from the floor where they had been tossed and looked towards the barricade. Willis looked up at the ceiling, coughed and waved his hand in front of his face to clear the dust then rolled over on his hands and knees and shook his head. His ears were ringing even with the sound dampening PANTHER hearing protection they all wore over the MH-180 Tactical Communications Headset. A hand reached down and pulled him to his feet.

  “That shit worked,” Smith said.

  The SEAL officer looked up at him with a confused look on his face.

  “What?!”Willis asked loudly.

  “I said, are you okay?!” Smith asked him louder. Willis nodded then leaned against the wall and shook his head again. He straightened up and looked over at Hannaberry.

  “Yo, Berry, you good to go?” he asked the other SEAL.

  “I can’t hear shit, Ell-tee! My ears are ringing!” Hannaberry yelled back. Willis patted him on the shoulder and pointed towards the barricade as he moved to check the rest of his team.

  “Sir, are you alright?” Smith asked. Willis saw the man’s lips move but it sounded like Smith was talking from the bottom of a well.

  “Personally, I’m pretty shook up myself,” Smith admitted looking around at the shattered surroundings. “Side note, blowing shit up makes me thick in the pants.”

  “What?!” Willis asked him loudly.

  Smith held up a
finger in a wait a minute gesture then removed his ear plugs.

  Willis shook his head, grinned at his demo man then moved back towards the hall gesturing for his team to take up position.

  Webb, Willis, and Johnson moved into the hall, weapons up and ready to answer any incoming fire but they met no resistance. Berry moved with them hugging one side of the corridor with Rogers and Smith bringing up the rear. Willis stopped when he reached the barricade or rather the hole in the floor where the barricade had been. A large portion of the concrete and steel flooring, along with several sections of the interior walls, was missing. The walls had been blown in by the overpressure exposing the interior of the rooms they once shielded.

  The hole in the floor was large enough to drive a bus through. Willis leaned over and looked down; the damage extended several floors down. Water pipes had burst pouring their contents down into the hole. He leaned back and slowly shook his head. Looking for a way to get around the hole, he directed his team into one of the rooms, gingerly stepping over the debris. Bypassing the gap, they stepped out into the hall just beyond the damaged area. The first thing they noticed was the body parts, blood splatter and pieces of bone that were embedded or painted the walls, overhead, and floor.

  None of Conley’s security force had survived the blast.

  Moving deeper into the facility, the SEALs scanned the bodies that lay on the floor or slumped against the walls. This was the largest group of Conley’s soldiers they had encountered and had time to prepare for the invading force. From the attire that the bodies were dressed in, it would appear that these men were military contractors. Halfway down the hall, a white flag was waving from a doorway. Willis motioned his men forward as he went to one knee and scanned the hall.

  As they cautiously approached the doorway, there were blood trails leading into the room. Willis looked over at Smith who nodded and removed a flash-bang grenade, straightened the pin and held it ready.