by Lundy, W. J.
“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 some
thing 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.”
“The bottom deck with the docks? How do you plan on getting us down there?”
“I’ve got some ideas; can you get the men together for me in the upstairs lounge in about thirty minutes? I think it’s time to have a strategy session.”
Brad gathered everyone in the upstairs lounge. It was a far sight from the room they had entered two days ago. All of the damaged and soiled furniture had been removed and tossed into the sea. Instead of the stench of primal, there was a strong scent of pine oil and bleach. All of the team had gathered around the room, sitting in chairs salvaged from the lower offices. The emergency lighting had been restored and gray daylight was coming in through a broken shatterproof window.
Sean entered the room and grabbed for a bottle of water sitting on a shelf. He opened the top and poured in a tube of instant coffee, shaking the bottle and taking a swig of the room temperature liquid. He walked across the room and glanced at the floor; it had been freshly mopped and the trash cans were empty. He smiled, knowing that his team was following his orders down to the most mundane detail. It was time. He sat in a chair across from them.
“Gentlemen … and lady … it’s time we take back this platform. We need a way out of here and we can’t do that unless we are in control of this facility. We have a helicopter but we can’t fly it without fuel; there are ships below but we can’t get to them. It’s time to take back what is ours.”
“Chief, how we gonna do that?” Ben asked.
“We are going to kill them all.”
Sean explained his plan. Over the last two days, the primals outside had begun to detect the presence of the men inside the building. They had been slowly gathering outside the first floor doors. Every night they pounded on the steel fire doors, trying to gain entry. Brooks had found an entry way onto the building’s roof, and they were able to look down onto the crowd outside the entrance.
The plan was simple. The Marines would go into the lounge, reinforce the doors, and make as much noise as possible, luring the mob to them. Sean, Brad, and Brooks would shoot them from their elevated position on the roof. The upside—they should be able to put them down and stay relatively safe; the downside—they would deplete most of their ammo for the sniper rifles.
Sean told the men to prepare themselves; they would start the purge as soon as it got dark and the creatures were most active. The men left the room excited—glad to be back on mission and ready to take back the platform.
9.
Brad was in the first floor lounge helping the Marines pile furniture against the doors. They had slid the heavy pool table against them and piled chairs (and anything else they could lift) on top of it. They didn’t think the primals could breach the fire doors, but why take risks if they didn’t have to? Swanson was getting the men into position. Sean had put the corporal in charge of the Marine privates, and she had excelled at the position.
“You ready, Swanson?”
“Yeah Sergeant, we got this, you just tell us when and we’ll make a heck of a racket. You guys just make sure and kill all of them.”
Brad pulled her aside, away from the other Marines. “It won’t happen, but if they somehow breach, make sure you get all of your people pulled back into the hallway before you seal the second doors. I know you of all people understand that.”
“Yeah, understood Sergeant; and you’re right, that’s not going to happen.”
“Okay, we got a deal. I’m going to take Walkens up with me. When we’re in position, I’ll send him back down to indicate it’s time to party.”
Brad looked around the room one last time. The Marines had done well with the barricades; they had cut pipes to bang together as noise makers. He saw a large radio sitting on a bench.
“Hey, where did you all find that?”
Wilson grinned, holding up the old boom box. “I found this old piece of junk in the janitor’s closet. Has a cassette tape in it, figured if the batteries work, we can turn it up as loud as it’ll go. Worth a shot, right?”
“Good thinking Wilson! Alright Devil Dogs, if everyone is feeling hooah, hooah, I’m going to head up top and get ready to kick this thing off.”
“Ooorah! Sergeant!” the Marines shouted.
“Damn, y’all are about as hard as woodpecker lips.” Brad laughed as he made his way up to the roof being tailed by Walkens.
Brad found the ladder to the roof maintenance hatch and climbed his way to the platform that rested below the helipad. He found Brooks and Sean perched on an overlook. There were safety lines tied off to piping, and Brad clipped himself in. He approached Sean at the edge of the roof and took a knee.
“Okay Brad, I want you to engage the targets in front of the door. Keep an eye on those stairs leading to the helipad. We don’t want them getting above us. Make sure nothing gets in. I’m going to take long shots of opportunity anywhere they pop up. Brooks is on the other side of the roof. He will clear out the storage deck and concentrate his fire on the stairs going down to the second deck.”
“Okay, I think I can handle that,” Brad said.
“And another thing … be damn sure of what you are shooting at. We are on an oil rig; I don’t want to light this thing up and become a crispy critter,” Sean finished.
When everyone was in position, Brad yelled to Walken to get back downstairs and tell Swanson that it was ‘go time’. They heard him running through the hallway below. Brad pulled his rifle into his shoulder and started searching the darkness. He took deep breaths to relax himself as he ran through his pre-combat checks.
The sun had just set; he could just make out a few figures walking the decks with his naked eye. His night vision was powered up and working perfectly. He pulled them down, and watched the deck light up into green and blacks. The rain was still coming down, but the lightning was far off and the winds had subsided.
Brad was sitting in a good firing position when he started hearing the clanging of bars and pounding against the walls downstairs. Then they heard a loud DONNNNNG! DONNNNNG! DONNNNNG! “What the hell is that?” Sean asked.
“I don’t know, man, but the primals are waking up … I see them climbing the stairs,” Brooks called out.
The DONNNNNG! DONNNNNG! continued and was now joined by an electric guitar solo. Brad smiled. “Oh, shit! I think Wilson’s boom box works; sounds like he’s playing us some AC/DC tonight!”
They could just make out the lyrics of ‘Hells Bells’ as the first of the primals began moaning. Soon the platform was thundering with the sounds of primals and AC/DC.
“I'm rolling thunder, pouring rain”
“I have heavy contacts … They’re rushing up the steps. I won’t be able to hold them all!” Brooks shouted.
“I’m coming on like a hurricane”
Brad heard the report of Brook’s M14 rifle launching the heavy 7.62 rounds. The primals were charging down the walkway. Sean’s rifle joined the chorus and Brad watched the numbers thin as the mass moved towards the doors. He pulled the rifle tight, and just before they got to the entrance, he took a deep breath and fired.
“I won't take no prisoners, won't spare no lives”
Brad watched one of the primals flinch and snap back, but another quickly took its place. He had been cautioned early by Sean to not ‘double tap’ and to stay away from the three-round burst. Ammo was now a precious commodity, so one shot/one kill was the rule for this hunt. Brad tried to calm his nerves and make every shot count.
He put his dot on another creature, pulled bac
k on the trigger, and felt the recoil. The creature moved at the last second and the round impacted it high in the shoulder. Brad cursed himself for the miss. He closed his eyes tight and then relaxed his eye back on the scope. He found another target and put the dot at the base of its neck, pulled the trigger, and watched it drop.
“I got my bell I’m gonna take you to Hell; I’m gonna get ya Satan get ya”
They were now massed heavily on the doors, pounding and screaming. Brad was picking out targets and firing calmly as he tried to make every round count. Sean’s and Brooks’ rifles barked in the target-rich environment. Brass was piling up around all of them. Brad reached into his pack for a fresh magazine, let the bolt go forward, and took up aim again.
He found one that was pulling hard on the door’s handle, and dropped him quickly. He searched for a new target and saw motion in his peripheral vision. A group of them were now charging up the stairs to the helipad. He switched his position and turned, firing rapidly to stop the creatures’ crude attempts at a flanking maneuver. He knocked down the leaders who fell backwards, taking the others with them.
“Hell’s bells, you got me ringing, Hell’s bells”
Brad brought his attention back to the door. The primals had forced a corner of the door back and were pulling on it. There was a massive pile of dead in front of the entrance that partially prevented them from being able to pull it open. Brad saw sparks below that indicated the Marines were now firing through the door, joining the fight.
“I’ll give you black sensations up and down your spine”
The mass withered. Sean’s rifle went silent; soon after Brooks halted as well. Brad searched and scanned the pile below. Sean sounded off that his sector was clear, and Brooks followed suit. Brad made another pass and was about to speak when he saw movement at a corner. He focused his vision and saw the Alpha leader they had spotted days earlier on the platform. Brad tried to pick up a sight picture just as the Alpha disappeared.
“I’m clear but I think one got away!” Brad shouted.