by Spell, David
"Can you back it up to 1700 hours, when the bombs went off?" Eddie queried.
The angle was not the best and did not show the car when it exploded. The result of the explosion, however, was caught on video. Debris, flaming shrapnel, smoke, and the effects on all the surrounding vehicles were clearly seen at the moment of detonation.
Fleming backed it up further and the confrontation between the female Atlanta police officer and the suicide bomber was played out in front of them. The CDC officers saw her challenge him, bringing her pistol up. The terrorist turning and firing. The officer returning fire and striking him, setting the bomb off.
"That's what happened in New York and in DC, also," Chuck said. "A terrorist parks a car bomb somewhere dense and then leaves on foot to blow himself up somewhere else. Here, a good cop just happened up on the scene and stopped him before he could get very far."
Andy rummaged around the office and found a memory stick. He inserted it into the computer and started downloading the videos that had been recorded. They would be evidence later on and might give the FBI something to work with.
#
The Wells Fargo Building, Atlanta, Saturday, 0320 hours
The last two floors were part of the Georgia Institute of Technology's Research facility. The 2nd floor was a research and development lab for robotics. Unfortunately, there were no survivors to give the officers a tour. There were, however, thirteen Ph.D students in white lab coats who had been infected when the suicide bomber detonated. A young Asian woman had been killed by a ball bearing to the head. Her decimated and mostly eaten body lay in the middle of the floor.
Three other students had been injured and infected in the blast. They quickly turned and started attacking their friends, who were trying to administer first-aid. Within minutes, the only people left in the lab were zombies.
The officers stood outside the door listening to the growling and snarling inside. Scotty had point on this one but the door was locked. There was a keypad on the wall next to the entrance.
"Let's see how strong these tech students are," said Smith with a smile. "You guys back down the corridor and get ready. I'll see if I can't stir them up a little, kind of like a hornet's nest."
After his teammates were in position, the big man slapped the wooden door twice with his open hand. "I've got two hundred and fifty pounds of white meat waiting for you," he yelled. "Come and eat me!" He then ran to join his mates.
They formed a skirmish line thirty yards from the door. "You need professional help," Jimmy grinned at Scotty as he took his place in line.
Smith just flashed him a big grin and raised the shotgun. A body crashed into the door and then another. This was repeated over and over for five minutes. A cracking sound was finally heard as the door started to give. The bodies continued to ram the door until it popped open.
The infected students poured into the hallway and rushed towards the federal police officers. Their white lab jackets were bloody and the officers could see open, jagged wounds on all of them. Each of the students was Indian, Korean, or Taiwanese. This explained why it took them so long to smash the door open. Not a single one of the tech students weighed over one hundred and thirty pounds.
The suppressed M4s and Scotty's unsuppressed shotgun quickly cut down the zombies. The officers paused to reload and cautiously moved into the lab to clear and check it for survivors. There were dried pools of blood and the familiar smell of smoke drifting in through the shattered windows but no living people.
The 1st floor contained a large computer lab. Surprisingly, no one had been infected on this level. The way that the lab was configured, banks of large computer servers had protected the students from infection. Several of the servers were destroyed by flying shrapnel but the eleven survivors were fine. They told the officers that six of the their friends had gone down to the lobby to investigate and had never come back. After the explosions, the survivors started following the coverage online and had decided to stay put.
Eddie, Chuck, and Andy stood by the windows, looking down at the destruction below them. The growl of the infected carried up to them. From their vantage point, McCain estimated they could see around two thousand. And that was just on one side of the building.
"Well, it's been fun but I think it's time to get these people to the roof and call it a day," Chuck said.
"What's next?" asked Eddie.
"I don't know. We'll go check in at the CP at the Braves Stadium and then I think we'll all take thirty-six hours to rest and recover. My best guess is that we'll be doing a lot more of this. I also need to call over to our HQ and see if they've seen any Zs. I alerted the powers-that-be earlier that they might need to evacuate the night shift. That's only five miles from here. We may need new offices come Monday morning."
#
The roof of the Wells Fargo Building, Atlanta, Saturday, 0445 hours
"This is our ride," said Luis, as the helicopter materialized and began its descent.
All the people they had rescued had been air lifted to the staging area near the Atlanta Braves Stadium. As they waited, the officers had sat on the roof talking quietly or dozing. McCain and García kept watch as their exhausted teammates waited for the Blackhawk.
The Centers for Disease Control Headquarters had been evacuated almost five hours earlier. The security officers helped the third shift of scientists and specialists get some of their gear packed up and loaded into their vehicles. The director had been following the event and decided to err on the side of caution.
The men stirred at the noise of the rotors and got to their feet. Chuck let everyone board before he joined them. Crewman Bobby Walsh handed him a headset as he snapped on the seatbelt.
"Welcome aboard, Mr. McCain. Congratulations on rescuing all those people. It sounded pretty chaotic inside. Where can we take you gentlemen?" Major Daniel Campbell's voice came through Chuck's headphones.
"Thanks for the ride, Major. You can drop some of the guys off at the staging area. We have one of our SUVs there. Please take the rest of us to DeKalb-Peachtree airport. We've got another vehicle there. After that, we're done until Monday morning unless I get other orders."
"Very good, sir. Let's get going." In seconds the helicopter lifted into the air, turned north, and pulled away from the abandoned skyscraper.
"Major, as we head towards the evac and staging area, can you turn the FLIR on and let me know how far the Zs have traveled up the interstate? We need to know how fast they're moving and if they're going to need to move the CP."
"The FLIR won't do us any good," Campbell answered. "These things are dead and don't put out much of a heat signature. We dropped down on our way to pick you up and illuminated them with the spotlight. The lead element is a several hundred strong. They're five miles from the staging area and moving steadily that way. A group of about three hundred is less than a mile behind them. Another six hundred are bringing up the rear, half a mile back. One of the news choppers said they are spreading out like that in every direction. We could take some of them down, or at least thin them out with Bobby's mini gun but the DHS told us not to go that route."
"What? There are thousands of Zs loose in the city. Let's kill as many of them as we can, any way we can."
"Yes, sir, I agree, but those were our orders."
Idiots!" McCain said angrily. "An entire city is about to be lost. What was their rationale?"
"They said they didn't want to turn an urban area into a war zone. And, that was coming straight from the White House. At this point, they think the Zs can be contained by conventional measures without resorting to military hardware. The President or his advisors feel that if we use the military we'll be somehow admitting defeat. Our military has pretty much destroyed Iran but we don't want to give them any reason to gloat by having to use the American military on US soil."
"Idiots!" Chuck repeated. "I'll make some phone calls and see if I can get you guys weapons free when we land."
McCain passed the
information on to his men. They just shook their heads in disbelief. It was the zombie apocalypse and Washington was wanting to play politics and not ruffle any feathers.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Waiting for the Tsunami
Staging Area, Braves Stadium Parking Lot, Saturday, 0515 hours
Scotty leaned back against the bulkhead of the helicopter for the short flight and pulled out his smart phone. He had not checked it for hours and saw that he had multiple texts from Emily asking if he was ok. She said she was still at the staging area waiting to be given an assignment. She also texted that no one at the command post seemed to have any idea what to do.
He sent her a quick note saying that he was fine and that he'd be there in ten minutes. Smith looked up to see McCain carrying on an animated conversation with their pilot. Chuck looked upset. That's not good. It took a lot to make McCain angry. After years in the military and now working as a federal police officer, Smith wasn't surprised by any of the stupid decisions that came out of Washington.
It's been a long two days, Scotty thought. He looked around the helicopter at his exhausted teammates. Thank God, everybody is OK. These guys had become his family. Them and Emily.
Emily Clark was really a special girl. He thought back to their conversation two nights ago. Or was that a week ago? She had started crying because she was worried about him. He didn't think anyone had ever cried for him before. His mother might have but he didn't even remember what she looked like. Scotty's father told him and his two brothers that he had come home from work one day and she had disappeared. She had packed her stuff after her three young boys had gotten on the school bus and was gone when they all got home.
But Emily had cried and called him a 'big goofball.' That made him smile. Actually, every time he thought of Emily he smiled.
The Blackhawk flared and made a soft landing. The officers felt and heard the engines shutting down. Something must be going on, Smith thought, if Major Campbell and the helicopter crew were going to be staying for a while. McCain was out the door and ducking under the slowing rotors, rushing towards the command post.
Two firemen wearing all of their protective gear, including their breathers, appeared holding Geiger-Mueller detectors. One of them waved it over Chuck as he passed by. They then checked each of the officers as they exited the aircraft.
Scotty was the third man off of the helicopter. After getting an all clear from the fireman who waved the radiation detection device over him, the big man looked around, wondering where Emily might be. There were rows of ambulances, fire trucks, and both marked and unmarked police cars. Three SWAT trucks sat off to the side, as well.
Decontamination tents were set up near the fire trucks and ambulances. Each of the survivors had registered on the GM detector and had been stripped, decontaminated, and then given fresh clothes. They had all been in the detonation zones when the radioactive material in the dirty bomb was blasted outward. The CDC officers, however, barely registered at all because the nuclear waste had settled to the ground by the time they got to the scene.
Scotty, not seeing his paramedic girlfriend, reached for his phone to send her a text. Something hit him and almost knocked him to the ground. Emily grabbed the big man and hugged him hard.
"I was so worried about you, Scotty."
She had told herself she wasn't going to start crying. Emily was not a crier. In spite of herself, though, the tears came as she and Scotty held each other.
Smith's teammates walked around the couple, heading towards the CP. "That's right," said Jimmy, not slowing his pace. "You hold onto that man. He's had a rough couple of days."
The couple kissed, their first one since they had started dating, standing next to a Blackhawk helicopter, surrounded by armed first responders and emergency vehicles.
"I'd hoped to take you out some place really nice before we had our first kiss. Sorry about that," Scotty said, when they came up for air.
"It's fine," said Emily, smiling up at him. "The main thing is that you're safe. They're saying that the entire city is overrun."
Smith continued to hold her. "That's only part of it. The Zs are marching this way. That was why Chuck was the first one off the helicopter. He's going to go try and shake some things loose."
"How long do we have before they get here?" Clark asked, the alarm evident in her voice.
"Probably three or four hours. This helicopter's got a machine gun on it. They could take out hundreds of those things but Washington doesn't want them using military weapons in the city. If Chuck can't talk some sense into them, you guys are going to have to evacuate and soon."
"What are you going to do? Is your team going to stay and fight? And what about your apartment? How are you going to get home?"
"Yeah, well, there's not much I can do about it. The army taught me to live a simple life. I'll probably go home with Chuck. He's got an extra bedroom."
"My couch is pretty comfortable if you need another place to stay," she offered, a shy smile on her face.
Scotty smiled and kissed her again. "I may take you up on that, eventually. I have a feeling the next few days are going to be intense."
FBI Supervisory Special Agent Thomas Burns stood in the command post with representatives of most of the metro-Atlanta police departments, the Department of Homeland Security, the Atlanta CDC Director, and various other federal agencies. A single upper level FBI director and his assistant had arrived an hour before. The fire department had set up portable lights so the personnel in the CP could work.
Normally, by now, Burns would have had all of the Washington brass breathing down his neck on an incident of this size. Washington, D.C., however, was in the midst of its own crisis and they could only afford to send the Deputy Director of the Weapons of Mass Destruction Directorate, Charles E. Trimble, III. Trimble's assistant, Special Agent Mir Turani, was thankful to get out of DC for a little while.
Burns saw the muscular man in dark tactical clothing approaching the command post. He was wearing a black helmet, web gear, and had a suppressed M4 slung from his chest. If I didn't know better, Burns thought, I'd almost swear that's Chuck McCain. But the last time I saw McCain was yesterday and he was leaving for Washington.
There were multiple conversations taking place in the CP. As the heavily armed man walked up, the talking died down and every eye was on him. He unsnapped the kevlar helmet and removed it from his head, looking around at the assembled federal and local law enforcement and EMS brass.
"McCain? I thought you were in DC?" Burns walked over to Chuck with an incredulous look on his face.
"Hey, Burns. I was, but we flew right down when the bombs started going off."
"Were you with your guys in the Wells Fargo Building?"
McCain nodded, wiping the sweat off of his face and sighing. "Yeah, I was in there. We cleared the building but on the flight up here, I heard about some stupid orders not allowing us to use any heavy weapons?"
The FBI agent looked uncomfortable and lowered his voice. "Yeah, I'm not sure where that came from. I mean I know it came from the White House, but it doesn't sound like something the President would push."
Chuck was angry and wanted to lash out. Not at Burns but at the politics behind not allowing them to utilize the military resources they had at their disposal. He had seen the thousands of Zs spreading out in every direction. He knew military air power could not kill them all but he also knew that the police officers here at this staging area had no chance of stopping the oncoming zombies.
McCain was a professional, though. He knew he needed to brief the brass here on what they had seen and done. Maybe he could convince them to withdraw all the officers if Washington would not let them use their heavy firepower. But, withdraw to where? If they did not eliminate these infected, their numbers would continue to grow. How many other cities would be lost?
Chuck nodded at Burns. "Why don't you gather everyone around and I'll give a quick briefing on what we did and what I saw on the fligh
t out of the city?"
Trimble and Turani had not said anything to McCain. They listened closely to everything the CDC Supervisory Agent in Charge said. Turani, especially, took everything in. This was his first time to see the famous Chuck McCain in person and he did not want to miss anything.
"We rescued close to two hundred people," Chuck concluded, "and probably killed three hundred or so Zs. That entire area of the city is overrun. I saw thousands of them around the skyscraper we just cleared. On our flight up here, we saw over a thousand coming this way. They'll be here in a few hours and Washington isn't allowing us to use any heavy weapons. Our Blackhawk is equipped with a mini gun that could put a serious dent in the Zs but for some reason we aren't being allowed to use it."
"I take it that you disagree with that order, Mr. McCain?" asked Deputy Director of the Weapons of Mass Destruction Directorate Trimble.
"Who's that?" Chuck asked, looking at Thomas. Burns introduced the two men.
"And this is his assistant, Special Agent Mir Turani."
McCain nodded at the two men, fixing his gaze on Turani. "Iranian? he asked.
Mir bristled, "Is that any of your business?"
"No offense, Special Agent. Just curious. I've always had a thing for trying to figure out where different names come from."
"My parents emigrated here when the Shah was overthrown in 1979."
Chuck nodded and looked at Trimble. "Yes, sir. I do disagree with that order. This staging area will be overrun. If you can get the National Guard here, we might have a chance of holding it, but the hundred or so officers here can't do it. And even if, by some miracle, we manage to kill all the zombies, we're going to take casualties. A few helicopter gunships could eliminate the bulk of the Zs and then the SWAT teams could mop up the stragglers."