by Sawyer, JT
“Wait, we can’t leave Phillip like this,” said Eliza, who was staring down at the glassy eyes which reflected the pool of bright red blood beneath his face.
“He’s already dead,” said Huntington.
As they rushed for the entrance ramp, Willis could hear the groaning sound of approaching creatures behind them followed by automatic weapons fire and then silence. They ran up the incline and Willis removed the massive metal bar across the double doors, straining with the others to yank them free. As sunlight flooded in, he could hear the reassuring sound of the turbo engines of Air Force One and saw the plane moving into its departure position two-hundred yards away.
As they sprinted down the blacktop runway, Willis could see the fuel truck parked to the right with its hose dangling on the ground. Willis dropped back and ran alongside General Adams. “Sir, I need you to finish getting POTUS on board. I’m gonna ram that fuel truck into the entrance doors or those things will overrun the tarmac before the plane can lift off.”
Adams nodded and continued running with the others as Willis veered off for the truck. He hopped inside and flipped over the ignition then swung the steering wheel hard to the left. Accelerating, he punched the vehicle forward at 40 mph right into the flood of creatures pouring out of the exit tunnel.
Willis unclipped his empty rifle from his shoulder harness and jammed it between the seat and the gas pedal. As the engine revved up and with the truck aimed directly at the swarm of crazed mutants, Willis dove out of the vehicle, landing on the blacktop in a partial roll, cracking his shoulder blade on the ground. He heard the truck crunching over bone and flesh as it tore into the crowd of reeling creatures.
As he staggered to his feet, letting his injured arm dangle, Willis withdrew his pistol and fired off three rounds into the rear of the truck, watching it explode like a rolling cauldron as it slammed into the entrance.
With a mushroom cloud of flame and black smoke incinerating most of the creatures, Willis limped for the plane, which was wheeling slowly down the runway away from him. He fired off his last two rounds into the head of a bounding creature dressed in tan fatigues then reholstered his weapon. With three more mutants closing in on him, he rushed for the plane, whose side door was still hanging open. With only twenty feet between them, Willis approached the door, where he saw President Huntington leaning out, waving him on. With blood dripping down his wounded arm and road rash on his face, he forced out a final sprint and grabbed onto Huntington’s hand as the plane gained speed.
Willis placed his leather shoes on the carpeted steps and was pulled up by the president. As the wheels screeched along the blacktop, Adams yanked the door closed. The flow of creatures from the entrance was stemmed and Air Force One made its dash down the runway until it was aloft over the white sand dunes surrounding the former desert sanctuary.
Chapter 37
As they waited for the storm to clear, Carlie and the rest of the team spent time in the computer center next to the chow hall, catching up on intel reports from around the world via cached newsfeeds or intermittent HAM radio networks. Once the pathogen had raged through the major cities, the smaller towns succumbed next. In those less densely populated regions fortunate enough to survive minimal casualties, people closed off the routes into their communities and established their own laws to keep the internal social mechanisms from breaking down.
No place escaped the ravages of the diseases and even remote settlements in the Arctic, Australia, and the Amazon succumbed in days. In those regions where there were no more living humans, the mutants went into a torpid state similar to an insect during a cold night.
There were reports of militant armies forming in states like Montana and North Carolina but those were short-lived as the mutants were too many and the internal rivalries in the groups caused them to implode. Those that survived around the world did so by cunning, remaining quietly in their isolated communities, and adapting their movement to the long hours of the night. Terrifying reports came in almost daily about savage attacks by faster, lone-wolf mutants who seemed to have superior strength and wound-recovery capabilities. In one case in Detroit, a fast-moving mutant raged through a bunker full of twenty-six people in minutes before being dispatched. These creatures seemed to be able to draw the slower-moving zombies to them though it wasn’t certain what, if any, kind of communication between the two was being used.
Now with winter on the way in many parts of the world, survivors would be further confined to their retreats amidst dwindling resources and brutal temperatures.
Carlie was staring at the laptop screen beside Shane and Matias, who were viewing their own newsfeeds. After reading an autopsy report on a recent mutant examination from Doctor Efron from a few days prior and seeing mention of his futile attempts at trying to decode the viral strain, she placed her elbows on the table and rubbed her weary eyes. Carlie tried to force out the bleak images from the past week and focus on something normal but she couldn’t seem to extract any memories except those of close-quarter battles or blood-soaked encounters. She found her heart racing and breath quickening and had to force herself back to the present. She hoped to reach White Sands again on the bridge radio but the transmission wasn’t getting through, probably due to the spotty satellite reception.
She looked around the room at her two teams spread out and reading their computer screens intently or trying to catnap. With the exception of Amy and Jared, both of her groups were made up entirely of former or current military. Shane’s former background in the navy she knew well and Matias had been in the army like herself. He had served in the trenches in South and Central America in the war on drugs along with doing more than a few tours in the Middle East.
Boyd and his men were composed of army or marine veterans, a jumbled mix of skills and headstrong men that Boyd did an excellent job of controlling even though she despised the man’s social skills. Amy was holding up well, Carlie thought, looking at the younger woman whose hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail. From what Carlie had gleaned from speaking with her, Amy had certainly seen her share of trauma working as a paramedic. She also didn’t flinch under pressure when they were in the thick of battle against the undead despite her lack of tactical training. The latter was something Carlie could inculcate given enough time under her tutelage. And then there was Jared, the wild card. Despite her conflicted feelings when she was around him, she had to admit that his unusual skill set had already helped them out. He had a medley of improvisational skills coupled with a cool-handed attitude under pressure that could serve her team well—if she could continue to rein him in as a team player.
She definitely felt like the mix of individuals on her own small team were becoming tighter given their odd pedigree and would merge eventually with Boyd’s men as their combined operational tempo increased. She felt at home amongst the majority of these warriors and understood this unique subculture that only a handful of women were ever privy to. Her upbringing as a military brat, followed by her own stint in the army and then working for years in the predominantly male ranks of the Secret Service had fostered a family of its own, as it often does amongst this brotherhood of elite fighters whose bonds are forged under extreme adversity. In that she found solace and knew that sanity was possible as long as you had your own kind to return to after the long, weary battles that one endured.
Carlie looked beyond her teams towards the entrance and saw Master-At-Arms Richards making a beeline towards her.
She got up and met him halfway. “Everything alright?”
“The commander wants to see you on the bridge. You’re going to want to hear this local transmission we just received.”
Carlie grabbed her fleece jacket off the back of her chair and then followed Richards out of the room. They headed up the stairs to the command center, passing through an observation deck where the storm continued unabated outside.
Chapter 38
As Carlie entered the bridge, she strode across the room towards Com
mander Young, who was standing with his arms folded beside his comms officer.
“This transmission was just intercepted from Cuba. It was sent in both Russian and English,” he said, handing her a paper with the hastily scribbled words.
Carlie scanned the sentences. Please help….jungle outpost….overrun by virus-modified mutants afflicted….pathogen. Exact coordinates unknown….small airstrip....
Her eyes widened when she read the description of the mutants. She handed the paper back to the commander. “Can I hear the recording of the message in Russian?”
The commander gave her a headset and then motioned to his comms officer to replay the transmission. Carlie focused on the frantic voice, trying to decipher his dialect and noting the man’s particular inflection. When the recording was done, she replayed it. Her eyes shifted around the room as each sentence unfolded and she thought back to the earlier audio recording Doctor Efron had played for her.
When she was done, Carlie placed the headset down on the console and slowly looked up at the commander. “We need to get to his location. I’m certain this is the same voice of a NATO weapons inspector we listened to in a recording a few days ago back at White Sands. If so, then he is a direct link to the origin of this virus.”
The commander looked up at the monitor to his right which showed their location. “I can have you there in four hours but the weather is still going to be shit for an over-the-beach insertion with your Zodiacs. With the choppy waves and the rocky shoreline, I don’t recommend it.”
“We need to facilitate his extraction at all costs. We’ll have to risk it. Any helos will just draw too much attention from those creatures. I’ll have my team ready and on deck, Commander. Please let me know when we’re in range.”
“I’ll have the coordinates of that transmission relayed to you.”
“Thank you, sir,” Carlie said as she nodded to the commander and then turned and began walking away.
“And by the way, it’s not mainland Cuba but an island off the southwest coast—Nuevo Gerona. That’s the one you mentioned earlier, isn’t it?”
She sent a knowing glance back to him and tilted her chin up. “I’m afraid so.”
Chapter 39
As the Zodiacs crested the last wave and were thrust by the ocean onto the beach, Carlie jumped out into the knee-deep surf with the others on her team and began pulling the raft along the black volcanic sand.
Boyd and his men were doing the same and both teams met at a cluster of young palm trees twenty yards up from the beach.
After Carlie did a quick headcount, she huddled everyone together. “Alright, Shane and I will head up this hill behind us and do a quick recon of the road and surrounding area. We should be back in twenty minutes.” She looked at Boyd, who was reapplying insect repellent to his face and hands. “I want the rest of you to set up a perimeter here and confirm our arrival and location with the XO. Matias, you keep us current on enemy movement with the portable SAT device—whenever that thing can get a signal. And remember to keep coated with repellent—Efron said that mosquitos aren’t a disease vector now but let’s not take any chances.”
Carlie cinched the shoulder straps on her rucksack and then returned her grip to the suppressed M4 hanging off her chest. She looked at Shane, who nodded back, and then they both disappeared into the treeline. They began their ascent of the small hummock that rose up from the jungle floor like a tilted football.
As they walked into the dense foliage, the rain kept falling, making their passage along the dead leaves silent and preventing their body scent from wafting through the cool air. After five hundred yards of slogging through the mud, she stopped to hear a message coming in from Matias. “The rainstorm is keeping the creatures stationary but I’m picking up vehicle movement to the north about two miles out from our location,” he said.
“Copy that,” she said as they continued climbing the hill. “We’ll be in position in a few minutes and report back then.”
“Ever done any ops in the jungle before other than babysitting dignitaries at their posh hotels in Miami?” whispered Shane.
“Yeah, we did some training with the government in Belize during a joint counter-terrorism course.”
“Belize—that’s a tame tourists’ jungle compared to South America. You should try spending a month living in a hammock in Surinam. Now that’s some raw, wild land down there.”
“No thanks. Too many nasties, with all the parasites, venomous snakes, and spiders. I’ll take Central America any day over that.”
“So how many countries have you been to, exactly?” he said.
“Hell if I know. I don’t keep a diary with all my hotel receipts stuffed in it,” she said, mulling over the question. “It has to be over seventy.”
“Damn, and I thought I’d seen a lot of the globe with the SEALs. I’ve been to thirty-six countries on government-sponsored vacations.”
“Ah, if the American taxpayers only knew just how many countries we are operating in without their knowledge, they’d be…” She paused, stopping in her tracks. “American taxpayers—never thought I’d be sorry to hear that term not carry any meaning.”
“Don’t worry, even now with the world in pieces, once a new governing agency is formed, they’ll figure out a way to stick it to us. This time we’ll be paying with MREs, bullets, or meds.”
“Geez, what happened to the glass-half-full guy I knew?”
“He’s still in here,” Shane said, tapping his fist against his vest. “It must be the company I’m keeping these days.”
“Yeah, I’m sure that’s it alright.”
“I think after this op, we need to put our boots up for even a few hours and enjoy some cold brews.”
“Now you’re gonna start on this? Jared was going off on me in New Orleans about skipping out on our duties and finding a nice, quiet sanctuary to while away our days.”
“Whoa…I never said anything like that. I’ve still got plenty more missions left in this weathered frame of mine…and you do, too…minus the weathered part.”
“I’m not so sure anymore. I mean, after this is over and we get the vital intel back to White Sands—note my optimism—I have other plans, with or without their help.”
“You think General Adams is going to let someone like you leave?”
“I didn’t say leave for good. I just have to take care of….some things.”
As they crested a small finger of volcanic rock that jutted out over the valley below, Carlie could see miles of untrammeled jungle in the faint sliver of moonlight poking through the clouds. She lowered her pack and leaned her upper body against the flat slab with her M4 in front of her.
Chapter 40
There was a break in the storm and moonlight began seeping in from behind the cloud cover, illuminating the dense canopy below Shane and Carlie’s hilltop perch. They were surveying the terrain and route ahead with their rifles’ nightvision scopes.
“I see the dirt road that leads to the airstrip which is about two miles out from here. Not much but dense jungle so concealment shouldn’t be an issue,” said Carlie.
“Yeah, but travel time will be—nothing more arduous than slogging with a ruck through the tropics,” said Shane, leaning against his pack, which was serving as a rifle rest on the rock before him.
“We can walk that road for part of the way.”
“Uhm…not too sure about that,” Shane said, adjusting the focus on his scope. “Carlie, look to your three o’clock. There’s a convoy of three trucks heading down that road and I can see muzzle flashes coming from the rear truck.” Shane had his vision fixed on the scene below. “Must be the remaining Santa Ria guys.”
As Shane focused on the moving string of vehicles, she could begin to hear the faint sound of automatic weapons fire as the trucks sped in their direction.
“There must be a shitload of those things after ’em if they’re lighting up the forest like that,” said Carlie.
“Damn…it actually lo
oks like six creatures…those fast-moving ones zig-zagging through the trees parallel to the road. I can’t fucking believe the speed that those things are operating at.”
“I thought they had piss-poor eyesight when it was dark?”
Shane watched two of the creatures jump onto the side of the lead cargo truck and rip open the canvas top on the rear bed. Horrific shrieks pierced the inky black night and then the truck swerved into a palm tree, sending the driver out through the glass of the front window. The rotund figure who was wearing a lime-green shirt was quickly disemboweled by a single creature.
The two other vehicles screeched to a halt, blocked by the wreck. Shane saw the remaining men jump out of their vehicles and begin shooting at the treeline. In the faint moonlight their rounds went astray. The four other creatures sprang onto the crowd and quickly began shredding limbs, reducing the gang of twenty-one smugglers to fileted corpses within ninety seconds.
“Son of a bitch, three truckloads of armed bandits cut to pieces like they were scarecrows.”
Shane had seen the face of combat many times; the chaos and horror of the battlefield never grew easier to bear. He had learned to control the adrenaline and mastered his fear to such an extent that his judgment was rarely hampered. Now as he studied the scene below through the green glow of his nightvision scope, his heart raced and he felt his throat searing like he had swallowed a hot coal. “Fuckin’ A, what are those things?”
Carlie pulled her face away from her scope and rubbed her eyes then looked at Shane. “Let’s get the rest of the group up here and then skirt far to the east of that road to get to the airstrip. Then, we’re hauling ass back to the Zodiacs or the secondary extraction point.”
“I think it’s gonna have to be the latter as those things are starting to move down the road towards the beach.”