by Vossen, Doug
“You’re lucky I like you, sir,” said Harrison. “This is fuckin’ disgusting, ya’ll.” He was a great soldier; he always jumped on his tasks with minimal bitching.
Jack intentionally kept his tone soft to keep the children as calm as possible. He removed his helmet and placed his left hand on the shoulder of one of the boys. “OK guys, I’m not sure if you understand me, but we’re leaving now. Just follow me and it’ll all be OK very soon.” He gestured for the children to stand. With pointing gestures he positioned everyone in his desired order of movement. First me, then the kids, then Harrison and the dude, then Callie. This is the best we can do with what we got.
“Where we going, sir?”
“Back out to the main hall with the two big-ass dinosaurs.”
“Hooah, sir.” Harrison squatted and repositioned the casualty across his shoulders to make the carry more comfortable.
What a good dude. That man’s got to be digging into his shoulder. He’s what, a buck-ninety? Two hundred?
“Callie, if you don’t mind, just peek back behind us every few seconds so we don’t get surprised,” said Jack.
“No problem, man.”
“OK everyone, let’s move.”
Keep it sharp. Eyes up, head on a swivel. They’re counting on YOU, Rugerman. Jack raised his carbine and flicked on his rail mounted tactical flashlight. They exited the crooked hallway and went back into the North American Mammals exhibit. Jack’s flashlight continued to reveal fresh horrors. This is some of the most horrific shit I’ve ever seen. I forgot how much blood is in the human body.
“Oh god.” Callie had stepped on a corpse without realizing it. “Shit, I’m really sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it, Callie. You didn’t see him - you did nothing wrong. Just stay focused. We’re almost at the entrance. We’ll link up with everyone soon.” I’m not sure if I’m chilling her out or myself.
“Thank you, Jack,” said Callie.
Weird, that’s the first time someone’s meant a thank you to me in forever. Now I’m super uncomfortable. Need to lighten the mood. “On a brighter note, these two kids are well on track to smashing performances as gunmen in the next big school shooting.”
“You know what they say, sir,” said Harrison. “Abused people become abusers. Why not with killing?”
“That’s bullshit,” Callie snapped.
“Guys, quiet the fuck down,” said Jack. “If you need to talk, do it in a whisper.” Shit, now I’m whisper-screaming.
“Sir, you’re not whi-”
“I know,” Jack said. “Shut up.”
“What the hell?” Callie was confused.
“Jackie, Karl.” It was Karl over the radio.
“What’s up?” Jack responded.
“Me, Sanjay Gupta, his awesome family, TRT Vitor Belfort, and the drunken fuckin’ master are coming back downstairs. We’re down on 5. NSTR (Nothing Significant to Report).”
“Roger, keep us posted. Break. Green Dragon, how’s it looking out there in the park?”
Rudich came in slightly more broken over the net. “Roger, uh, the exfil route is completely clear, but, uh, all the people under this thing’s control are in the middle of the park still going apeshit. The crowd’s increasing by about 25% every five to ten minutes. And the other stuff? Yeah, from now on I’m just calling it popcorn because what the fuck? Let’s just say it’s dark as shit right now, but you ain’t gonna need your taclights to see.”
“Roger.” Jack kept his response simple; he was scared to death and didn’t want the others to know.
“Sir, Major Rugerman, please hurry. I don’t feel comfortable landing my bird down there, no matter what you do. I mean, I will, but sir - this is going to be rough. You can’t fight them. We need to hurry. I don’t know what that popcorn shit is, but more people isn’t a good thing. Over.”
This one goddamn click of the mike has the power to inspire confidence in everyone during a life threatening event. If you fuck this up, you WILL NOT live it down. It doesn’t matter how much Harrison loves you. It doesn’t matter how much you think you’re hitting it off with Callie. It doesn’t matter how great of friends Trent and stupid Karl are. Get ready. Think before you speak. “Roger. Survey possible LZs within a hundred meter radius of the museum. Make sure you take note of the approximate distance and direction from the museum. We don’t have GPS anymore, but we still have old-school lensatic compasses. I don’t want to think twice about what fucking direction we need to go when we burst through that door. We have six civilians, one of which is NOT ambulatory. Obviously, you can’t prep for that now, but know we can’t sprint a mile to a safe spot. Over.”
“Roger, we’ll make it work,” said Chief Rudich. “At the end of the day, I got two 240B machine guns and a goddamn flying machine.”
I like this guy. “Roger.”
“Third floor, guys,” said Karl. “At the main stairwell, going down now. Over.”
“Roger.” Jack had a feeling few people would understand. He had learned how to interpret speech and tone over radio transmissions. It was an important skill in war. A lack of clear, instantaneous communication can destroy the most technologically advanced army. Jack had lived through moments when a simple “uh” or word stumble would have caused everyone involved to call bullshit on his entire career.
“So they’re close, right?” Callie looked distraught.
“They’ll be here really soon,” said Jack. “Let’s keep moving. We can’t stop.” He carefully scanned the carnage with his tac-light, not wanting the children to see the pile of bodies on the near side of the dinosaur skeletons. He skirted left, keeping his rifle and eyes up. He wrapped the group slowly around the north stairwell, into the edge of the impressive lobby. The light was significantly brighter now as it shone through the windows built into the arched walls lining the vaulted ceiling.
“Sir, look over there!” Harrison pointed toward the stairwell diagonal from the group, by the main entrance.
Ronak’s sphere swooped around the wall at the top of the southern stairwell, followed closely by the group of ten returning from the upper floors.
Now all we have to do is figure out how to stuff ten pounds of shit into a five pound bag. Five extra people IS a tall order. Make your buddy smile, I guess. We need about thirty uninterrupted seconds to cram everyone into this clown-car of a Blackhawk. Shit. Better start clearing away the entrance.
“Well everyone, shall we?” Trent gestured to the debris blocking the main entrance.
“Let’s do this,” said Karl.
“Green Dragon 1-3, Warrior 2,” said Jack.
“Green Dragon.”
“How we looking? We’re almost ready to make our exit.”
“Roger, we got the mosh pit with the popcorn getting bigger by the minute. I can’t tell what’s going on down there. Whatever it is, it’s not good.”
“Chief, you said they’re in the middle of the park. I need two pieces of information. Where are they specifically, and where does it make sense for you to land?”
“Split the difference between Central Park West and 5th Avenue and go about three hundred meters south of the 85th Street Transverse,” said Chief Rudich. “The orgy of violence is smack dab there. Holy shit. Wait one.”
That sounded like pure fear. I need to slow down. I want nothing more than to poke at him to see what’s going on. But if I’ve learned ONE thing, it’s to let people develop the situation. “Roger, standing by.” This is excruciating.
“OK, I took a low pass. It’s tough to see, but they’re not just ripping each other apart. They’re combining.”
Jack couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Chief, what the FUCK do you mean ‘combining?’”
“Sir, I don’t know. This is fucked up. Everything seems to be moving and still at the same time, and vibrating incredibly fast. Break. I see people with body parts in the wrong places. Some of these things are taller than my house at Fort Drum and almost as wide as my garage! Your best
bet for an LZ is one-hundred and fifty meters dead east of the intersection of 71st Street and Central Park West. It’s good because that lake with the boathouse will give bad buys a hard time maneuvering around. These people are lightning fast, but it’ll buy us crucial seconds to board the aircraft and bug out.”
“Roger. How’s the street on Central Park West? Can we haul ass down it?”
There was a pause.
Fuck, do I HATE waiting for information…
“Karl, how many hand frags you got?” asked Trent.
“Four,” Karl responded.
“Gimme two.”
“Fuck, Hughes. OK, no problem.” Karl knew it made sense to evenly distribute the most casualty-producing weapons.
Rudich came back over the radio. “If you get the fuck out NOW you can use it. You need to move!”
Jack turned to the group. “You heard the man - move this shit! Make sure you’re reloaded and get your fucking guns hot! Time to earn that grossly substandard paycheck, people!”
“Fuck yeah, Jackie! Love it when you get like this!” Karl was giddy.
HUGHES
The group moved the last pieces of debris blocking the entryway. Ronak put his massive shoulder into the handicapped door on the south side of the main entryway. Cool night air flooded into the building. Holy shit. Help me. “Jack! Karl! Get Chief over here to cover our movement!” Where am I going? Trent instinctually looked for cover. There! He bolted to the equestrian statue of Theodore Roosevelt, rotated in mid-sprint, and slammed back-first into the base of the fifteen-foot monument. “Jack! Fucking hurry! Look at this!”
“Roger!” Jack was behind a makeshift barrier twenty feet to Trent’s right flank.
C’mon chief. Now or never, man. It was difficult for Trent to hear Jack’s radio conversation; the sound of everyone shooting was deafening. Karl was at the opposite side of the statue’s base, firing controlled pairs like it was second nature.
Harrison carried the older man as Callie assisted the casualties who could walk. The horde was closer than two hundred meters away and the group was low on ammo.
Shit, we need to get going.
The popcorn sounds of controlled pairs echoed across the museum’s entry stairway on Central Park West.
Just then the Blackhawk piloted by Chief Rudich screamed past at a very low altitude. Trent thought the sound couldn’t get more deafening, and then the 240B machine guns opened up.
Yes! Thank you!
“Jack, Karl! Let’s fucking go!” Trent yelled.
They fell into a familiar formation, the casualties and Kapur’s family in the middle. Karl took point. Callie, Harrison, and Jack were in the middle herding casualties, with the intention of rotating who carried the unconscious man. Trent was at the rear, with Ronak pulling security. I can’t believe Harrison hasn’t fallen over from exhaustion yet. Goddamn, what a good kid.
They all ran as fast as they could. Karl was in phenomenal shape and pushed the pace. Every time he turned to check the gap between him and the group, Trent could see how frustrated he was. Trent knew Karl was used to operating in small groups where everyone functioned at an extremely high level.
The pack of touched individuals was now one hundred meters away and gaining speed rapidly. Each time the bird passed over the horde, it unloaded three ten-second bursts of chain-linked death into the crowd. Yet the aggressors kept getting faster. As they got closer, Trent saw what Chief Rudich had been talking about over the radio. Oh my god.
“What the fuck is that?” Jack was losing his shit.
“Dude, I have no idea!” said Trent. “Keep going!”
Ronak got into the same unorthodox stance as during his beautiful display of violence on the subway platform.
What am I seeing? How does that thing have seven arms? What appeared to be a combination of five or more bodies merged together bounded forward, surrounded by screeching maniacs who were not only pursuing the group, but tearing each other apart. It was unmitigated chaos. Each time a combined human was torn apart by Rudich’s 240s, or by other touched humans, there were more fractal flashes and bigger versions would emerge. The accompanying sounds were bone chilling.
“Ron, what the fuck?” Is he buying us time? His people are OK. I fucking killed one of them today. Was that one a Legate too? Was it a good person? Fuck.
A bright flash sparked in Ronak’s lower back, producing the same weapon configuration as before. He bounced around a bit, showing how loose and comfortable he felt. As the horde enveloped him, Ronak’s only assistance was the 240s making passes every thirty seconds.
“Trent, what’s he doing?” Jack was exasperated.
“Don’t worry, just keep going! Keep FUCKING going! Don’t make this all for nothing!”
Ronak danced around gracefully with his blade, leaving a trail of gore and mist in his wake. This distraction proved invaluable to the rest of the group, as the entire horde now zeroed in on the legate.
Goddamn it. He can’t keep that up. I don’t give a shit where he’s from or what shape he’s in.
One of the enormous inhuman monstrosities took notice of Ronak and lumbered toward him. Ronak didn’t notice as it approached his back and landed a huge blow to his head. The rest of the group now had two hundred meters between them and the horde.
Fuck. Emma, forgive me. Trent slowed down to a jog and then stopped. No one noticed. He slowly turned around. Legate Ronak was on the ground, rolling away from the strikes of the giant mutant. Had the other touched individuals not been preoccupied with ripping each other apart, he would have already been eviscerated.
Baby, if I live, I will not stop until I find you. Trent sprinted toward Ronak. I have maybe half a mag in this load. Twelve if I counted right. That’s six of these assholes. I got two mags left, two hand frags, a bayonet, alcoholism, and a can-do attitude! Let’s fucking do it!
Ronak noticed Trent running to him. “Captain Hughes, stay away fro-” Before he could finish, Ronak took a vicious hammer fist to the body - only the “fist” was three arms and one screaming face.
“Shut the fuck up, Ron!” Trent kept thrusting forward with his bayonet, clearing body part after body part in his path.
“Trent, please! You can’t! You FUCKING CAN’T!” screamed Callie.
Trent was now staring at the back of the repugnant beast. I saw this in a video game once. He unloaded the last rounds of his magazine into the thing’s back as he ran up what could only be described as a “leg” that was almost a meter wide. Miscellaneous arms, eyes, and body parts protruded everywhere along this path, which took Trent fifteen feet in the air.
“Captain Hughes! You shouldn’t have done this!” Ronak executed a technical standup that would have made the most experienced mixed martial artist cream his pants. He continued wreaking carnage. The group was well ahead of them now.
He’s good to go. I can die now. I paid my debt. Ron, I’m sorry for killing one of your people. I wish I could’ve just told you man-to-man. This is not the first time I’ve made this mistake, but this time I’m making it right. Trent placed his right foot on what appeared to be the beast’s neck and his left on its back. He continued thrusting with his bayonet. After two clean plunges of the bayonet, the beast forgot about Ronak and took notice. Oh fuck. We’re going for a ride. Trent fell forward, grabbing the beast’s neck. The beast whipped around relentlessly, until it once again noticed Ronak.
Now or never!
“Trent, what are you doing?” Ronak yelled.
Trent kept his left arm wrapped around the beast’s neck, which was so thick he could only manage a wide grip. He grabbed one of Karl’s fragmentation grenades with his right hand. Fuck, give me two seconds of standing still, you little shit! As if the universe heard him, the beast stood almost perfectly still. It tilted its head to the side to look at the situation developing around Ronak. Trent released his left hand from the beast’s neck and pulled the pin. As the grenade cooked off, he shoved it deep inside one of the wounds he’d opene
d with his bayonet. Before he was able to roll off, the grenade exploded.
The blast threw Trent ten feet behind the beast, which was now a huge pile of bones, flesh, blood, and vibrating fractal uncertainty. It smelled like rotten meat that had been left in the sun for days. Though Trent was amid chaos, his mind once again wandered as he watched steam rising from the hunk of flesh. I thought that market bombing from 2008 was the worst. Guess not.
Trent stood, intent on continuing the fight. Where’s my rifle? What’s all this blood on me? Holy shit, my arm! I’m bleeding out! I’m cock-sucking-mother-fucking bleeding out! I need a tourniquet! FUCK! I USED MY ONLY ONES ON JESSIE’S MOM!
More touched ones took notice of Trent.
So this is it. This is fucking it. Emma, I’m so sorry. I tried, baby. I wish I believed Jesus would be there at the end like you do. I’m so scared…
“Captain Hughes!” Ronak saw what was happening.
“Ron, GO! THEY NEED YOU!” Trent had accepted his fate.
“Trent! DON’T!” In a rare display of emotion, Ronak looked like he was pleading with Trent.
The reassembled mob rushed Trent. Time slowed. Trent looked to the sky, closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose. So this is how I die… How fucking dumb. I’ve done nothing worthwhile with my life.
“No. Not how,” said a voice.
“Emma?”
“No.”
“What the fuck is going on? What is this?”
A limitless, spiral-patterned fractal void surrounded Trent. It was as if the visual fabric of reality were folding in on itself. This visual phenomenon first presented itself on an immensely large scale, then slightly smaller, then smaller again, till it felt like traveling at light speed through a beautiful, vibrating tunnel. Coming out the back end was a space completely foreign to any human experience. The brilliant colors and pulsating rhythms were beautiful, but highly confusing. Trent felt extreme paranoia.