Only the Dead Live Forever

by W. J. Lundy

  “Ahhh shit, there goes the neighborhood,” Brooks said as he stepped back and returned to the assault team’s formation.

  “Captain, get back to your team,” Sean said.

  Just as Bradley turned to move, the first primal crashed into the set of battered doors. Brad raised his rifle and watched the doors heave. Sean fired carefully placed rounds that pierced the metal doors, but the commotion on the far side continued.

  “Concentrate your fire on the doors! Let’s kill these fucks while they’re trapped on the landing,” Sean said.

  Brooks and Brad acknowledged the order by firing shots in groups of two into the doors at shoulder height. They saw more rounds pierce the door, but the pounding continued and the intensity of the moaning grew. Soon the hall was filled with smoke and the visibility had dropped. They continued to fire straight down the hallway into the moans, filling the doors and landing with a wall of lead.

  Brad felt the bolt in his rifle lock to the rear and called out, “Reloading!”

  He quickly dropped his magazine and fished a fresh one from his vest. Brad pushed the bolt release and slammed the forward assist with the palm of his hand. Before he could tell the others he was back online, they heard the crunch of the doors giving way and the frenzied charge of the primals.

  They broke from the smoke and quickly closed the distance, rushing at them in a thick pack, filling the hallway and moving fast. The assault team fired at them, knocking down the first rank and slowing the charge as the falling primal bodies impeded the mass. Without being asked, Swanson moved her support team forward. They took up a standing position behind Brad. He could hear the officers’ 9mm pistols join the fight and he could feel the brass from Swanson’s rifle bounce off his shoulder as she fired into the mob.

  One of the creatures broke through and dove at the men, landing on top of Brooks. Brooks pushed up his forearm and pressed the creature’s face against the wall as he was forced over and onto his side. Captain Bradley stepped forward and gripped the primal by the back of its collar to pull it away from Brooks. With Brook’s forearm still pressing it tightly against the wall, Bradley shoved his pistol against the primal’s temple and fired.

  Brooks rolled from under the creature and forced himself back into a firing position, returning his weapon to action. Brad focused his attention forward as another wave moved at them en masse. He fired nearly point-blank into the mob, smoke and the flash of the weapons washing out his night vision.

  Sean yelled “Weapon dry!” and seamlessly pulled his sidearm, pumping heavy .45 caliber rounds into the charging primals. The front rank’s heads exploded as more pushed them forward and into the team. Then the fight fell apart. Swanson screamed that she was out of ammo and she started backpedaling into the stairway. A primal leaped from the mob’s ranks, hitting Brad square. Another jumped against the wall, skirted the fire and bounced into Sean’s blind spot.

  Both men were knocked off of their feet and began fighting for their lives in the confined space. Swanson and Douglas had both pulled back. Bradley leapt forward to help Sean while Brooks focused his fire forward, trusting his brothers to regain their position and knowing if he stopped firing to help them they would be completely overrun.

  Brad was crushed against the floor and could feel the primal gnawing at the sides of his helmet. Brad released the grip on his rifle and strained for his pistol with his right hand but it was jammed under his thigh. He forced his left arm between the creature and his chest and pulled his fighting knife, then forced it into the primal’s arm pit.

  He shoved the blade all the way to the hilt, feeling it grind against the bone. The creature continued to fight, so Brad reversed his grip on the blade and pushed the knife deeper, twisting the handle as he shoved through muscle and bone. He felt the primal’s grip weaken. Brad took advantage of the opportunity and forced his right arm up, rolling the primal off of him and to the side. He drew back the knife and shoved it forward at a deep angle into the primal’s neck, piercing its brain stem and skull.

  With the primal down, Brad looked forward and saw two more closing on him fast. He regained control of his rifle and fired quick shots to knock them down. He turned just in time to see Sean finish the creature he was wrestling with two rapid shots to the skull, the heavy rounds blowing chunks of bone and blood into the wall beside him. Bradley dropped back against the wall into a sitting position, breathing hard.

  Then it was quiet; nothing but the sounds of post-firefight breathing and sizzling brass on the bloody floors. Brooks reloaded his weapon before reaching down and pulling Brad back into a kneeling position. Sean climbed to his feet and looked down the hallway, using the beam of his laser to probe the fallen pile of primals. The sound of boots behind them indicated that the support team was moving back to the hallway.

  Brad was breathing hard; his hands and knees were shaking from the rush of adrenalin. He was still feeling the high of the fight when he heard the sounds of boot treads on the stairs. He turned just in time to see the support team getting back into position behind them. Sean looked back and asked Captain Bradley if he was okay. The captain gave a nod and climbed back to his feet.

  Sean stared at Swanson and Mr. Douglas. “Captain Bradley, I appreciate you coming forward in the middle of that for me; I saw you help Brooks as well. Thank you.”

  “I’m just trying to show you my old ass isn’t completely useless when it’s not strapped to a helicopter.”

  “Everyone check yourselves and get me a thumbs up,” Sean said.

  Brad looked himself over, finding his armor was covered with blood and gore. He had burnt through half his ammo in the small engagement and he knew they wouldn’t be able to keep up this tempo without resupply. He pushed himself to his feet and stretched, noting he wasn’t injured, just sore. He looked over at Sean and gave him a thumbs up.

  The hallway ahead now had a mound of bodies covering it; the dead were everywhere and the stench of blood and cordite was still heavy in the air. It was dark again, and the only sound was that of the storm outside breaking the silence. Sean started to push forward with Brooks on the opposite side of the hallway; they were both stepping carefully over the dead primal bodies. Brad fell in behind them, carefully watching where he placed his feet, still wary of the creatures covering the floor.

  The double doors leading to the third floor stairway were now completely opened. Broken, bent, and twisted from their frame, but open. Brooks approached the landing and peeked inside. He signaled back that the first approach was clear, and Sean signaled for him to proceed. Sean fell in behind him with Brad taking the rear position.

  The stench in the stairway was overwhelming. Brad pulled his shemagh up over his face but it did little to filter the smell of death and human waste. Brooks made his way to the top of the stairs and cut the angle, carefully making the turn to the next set of stairs. The team stayed tight, following him to the top. At the landing to the third floor they found another set of doors. It was no surprise that they had also been pushed in off their frame.

  The room beyond the doors was lit in low light from the emergency floodlight box hanging on the wall. Sean gave a signal and they moved into the room, dividing it into sectors, and verifying it was clear. They found themselves in a lounge identical to the one downstairs, except this room had been torn apart. The walls were covered in gore; pool tables and furniture were overturned and piled as if they had been used in a hasty barricade. There was just the one emergency light left, located high up on the wall; the rest had been torn from their boxes

  “What in the hell happened here?” Brad whispered.

  “Looks like they made a last stand before they were overtaken,” Sean said.

  Brooks made his way to the back wall where the double doors exiting the lounge at the far end of the room were still secured. “Maybe not,” he said. “These doors are still locked.”

  Sean and Brad stepped forward and examined the solidly locked doors. They discovered that these doors were the s
ame as the ones on the first floor: two heavy steel fire doors designed to contain three thousand degree fires for hours, not just to divide spaces like the other flimsy sheet-metal doors. The wire-reinforced safety glass was shattered and impossible to see through.

  The support team crept up the stairs and made their way into the low glow of the emergency lighting. Swanson moved forward into the room. “They locked us out. This is where we tried to fall back to before …. The bastards locked us out and left us to die.”

  Sean looked away from her and back to the sealed fire doors. He pounded a fist against them and heard nothing. He picked up a piece of broken metal from a table leg and began tapping against the steel frame of the door. He tapped a rhythmic beat that in no way would be confused with the pawing of a primal. Sean paused, then shook his head. “Fuck it.” He pounded on the doors. “Hey assholes, open the damn doors!” he yelled.

  7.

  There was a rustling of noise on the other side. Sean pounded and yelled again, “I can hear you in there, now open this door!”

  “Get away from here or we’ll open fire,” came a frightened voice on the other side of the door.

  “The hell you will! Now open this door before I place a charge on it and blow it off of its hinges!”

  “We aren’t letting anyone in. You’re all infected.”

  “No, we came in on the helicopter; you had to have heard it. We landed on the helipad above the building. Now open this door! That’s an order!” Sean roared.

  “No, it’s impossible, everyone’s dead, there’s nothing left outside, and you’re … you’re all infected!”

  Swanson stepped forward and stood next to the door. “Wilson? Is that you? This is Corporal Swanson … it’s true … these guys came in on a helicopter. They killed them all and they rescued me.”

  “Swanson? How … you were with the group that was attacked downstairs. How are you even alive?”

  “I’ll explain later. Can you just open the door? You can inspect us if you want, check us for bites. We’re all clear, Wilson, please just let us in.”

  There was a long pause followed by muffled voices and arguing going on inside. After a few long painful moments they finally heard furniture moving and bolts clicking and snapping on the other side. The handle turned and the door opened in.

  When the door opened they saw the face of a young, red-haired Marine. There was another Marine right beside him pointing a rifle at Sean. “Okay, we opened the door, but you ain’t coming in without an inspection,” the red-haired Marine said.

  “Okay son, you can look us over, but if your buddy doesn’t lower his weapon you’ll be helping him extract pieces of it from his ass for the next week,” Sean said in a calm voice.

  The Marine looked back to his buddy with the rifle. “It's okay Ben, you can lower your weapon.” Turning back to Sean he said, “Okay, you first then, put your arms up and turn around.”

  Sean followed his instructions and, after a quick rundown, they had all passed the Marine’s cursory inspection. He told them they could come into the room and waited for all of them to pass through the doorway before he closed the double doors and bolted them shut.

  They found themselves standing in a hallway twice the width of the ones below. The walls had evenly spaced doors going down both sides and two latrines located at the end of the hallway. Brad made his way into the dark hallway and leaned against the wall as he watched Sean walk in behind him. Sean moved past Brad and stopped, turning to face the red-haired Marine again.

  “Alright Marine, who’s in charge up here?” Sean asked

  “Well, nobody I guess. I’m Private Harry Wilson. This is Private Ben Walkens,” the red-haired Marine said, pointing to the man beside him. “Those two over there are Private Craig and Private Nelson, the civilians are Bill and Tony.”

  The men in the room all nodded as they were introduced. Two of the men were older and dressed in civilian clothes (obviously Bill and Tony). Sean made similar introductions of his team.

  “So how is it you managed to get yourself barricaded behind these doors?” Sean asked.

  Swanson stepped forward and got in Wilson’s face. “Yeah, explain to me why the fuck you didn’t open the doors! You killed us; you got Sergeant Johnson killed!” she screamed.

  “Hey! That’s not our fault!” Wilson yelled. “The lieutenant ordered us to barricade those doors when the rest of you assaulted down the stairs. He said we had to hold this position. He told us to lock the doors and we weren’t to open them for anybody except him. He said you might all be infected and we couldn’t trust anyone.”

  Private Walkens added, “It’s true, Corporal, we thought you had all left us to die. We didn’t want to lock y’all out; honest, we were just following orders.”

  Sean looked at him, shaking his head. “Just following orders? Okay, whatever, so what have you been doing to improve your situation over the last three days?”

  Wilson looked around, but nobody seemed eager to speak. “Well, uhh, we’ve kinda just been hanging back. We figured someone would come for us eventually, guess we were right. When are we leaving, Sir?”

  “First of all, I’m not a sir; I’m a chief. Second, I’m not your savior, and I’m half-tempted to leave your asses where I found you. From now on I’m in charge. No more ‘hanging back.’ Are we all on the same page?”

  The room was silent; the men in the back sat with their heads down. Walkens and Wilson just looked dazed, as though they had zero interest in the conversation. Brook stepped past them and looked at the men in the back.

  “The chief just asked you a question! Are you going to give him an answer?” Brooks shouted.

  The men in the back looked up, then back down again. Walkens and Wilson shuffled back against the wall.

  “Let’s go, Chief, there’s nobody left alive up here; nothing worth saving,” Brooks said, shouldering his rifle and walking toward the lounge doors.

  “No wait! We’re not bad guys … everyone is just in shock. We thought everyone was gone. We’re with you, Chief; whatever you need. Don’t leave us,” Bill said.

  “Okay, well good then, but I’m going to need a spark of motivation out of you all if you want to get out of here. So everybody up off your asses, I want all of the supplies laid out in this hallway in twenty minutes and no holding back,” Sean barked.

  “What the hell are you waiting for? The chief just said get your shit and get it laid out in the hallway. Now move!” Brooks yelled.

  The newly-found survivors jumped to their feet and disappeared into the living cells and started dragging gear into the hallway. Mr. Douglas and Swanson helped them organize it into piles. They had cases of MREs, several more cases of water, and close to four and a half cans of small arms ammunition. The men from the third floor were at least well stocked.

  When all the gear had been organized, the men fell back out into the hallway. Sean was walking amongst the stacks of food and supplies taking notes. Their stores had grown but so had their numbers. The group now totaled twelve people. If he could organize them, it would give them a much better chance of getting off of the oil platform.

  Sean put everyone to work. First they needed to clean out the area, since they couldn’t live in this filth. Brad and Brooks organized working parties. They dragged the dead down to the second floor and pushed the bodies out office windows and into the still raging sea. They left the windows open, letting the sea air purge the smells of the primal stench from the building.

  Everyone pitched in. It took the rest of the day, but by the end they had cleaned and organized the building. The Marines were slowly falling back into line seemingly happy to be back under leadership and working towards a goal. Brad posted guards in the first floor lounge and they put together a watch rotation. The building was secure.

  8.

  Brad found Sean sitting in one of the second floor offices looking out of the window towards the sea. The rain was still coming down hard but the winds had died down. It had been
two days since they’d locked down the building. The area had been cleaned top to bottom and, other than the bullet holes and ripped down doors, most signs of the primals had been removed. Sean had organized them back into a fighting force, even if they didn’t all agree on everything.

  “So what are you thinking, Sean?”

  “Trying to figure out how to get us out of this mess. I have been trying the phone; signal is good, but no answer. I guess the Colonel is done with us.”

  “Sean, the men are getting tired of all of the cleaning; they’re getting anxious.”

  Sean turned in his chair and smiled at Brad. “Brad, how long have you been pushing troops?”

  “Long enough I guess, why?”

  “You should know then, all the yelling I have been doing about cleaning this shithole up wasn’t about my OCD, it was about order. Think about it … If I had busted in here on day one and told those guys to suit up, we’re going zombie hunting, they would have shut down on me. Instead I got them started on busy work for the last two days, so now they are so damn bored they can’t wait to get back into the fight.”

  Brad smiled, shaking his head. He walked into the office, found a chair in the corner, and sat down. “Guess that’s why you’re the Chief. I hope it works.”

  “Brad, if we can’t pull these guys back into a cohesive unit, we’re all screwed. We need to keep them busy and tied down. Yeah, sure they are going to bitch, but the more work we toss at them, the more it keeps them focused on something else. Don’t worry, it will all come together.”

  “So what’s the plan then Chief? Where does this all go? How the hell we gonna get off this damn thing?”

  “I don’t know, man. We could get on that Black Hawk, try to assault an airfield and get us a fixed wing … try and fly home. But sounds kind of John Wayne to me, too many moving parts to make it work. I’m starting to think our best bet may be to grab us one of the attack boats moored below. Take us awhile longer, but I think we could make it home.”