by David Spell
Periodically, he would see groups of five or ten or even fifteen infected walking by the doorway. If he could see them, he wondered if they could look in the same window and see him and the group he was with? What would he do if they tried to get in?
At the moment, he was with a group of around twenty students in a classroom. They were all lying on the floor trying to be quiet. Bell was holding an aluminum baseball bat. He had found the equipment bag discarded in the hallway.
Two other boys had armed themselves with the other two bats that were in the bag. They had then run off, in search of an exit. Jeffrey was the only one of his group who had some kind of a weapon.
The classroom that they were in was not the best hiding place but, at the moment, it had made sense. A large group of infected students and teachers had seen them from down an adjacent corridor. Bell herded the students into the classroom, closed the door, and motioned them onto the floor. The zombies came rushing by just seconds later.
This particular room was towards the middle of the school and not close to an exit. They had lain there on the floor of the classroom for over half an hour. There hadn’t been any gunshots for a while. What should they do? How long should they wait?
Peachtree Meadow High School, Friday, 1115 hours
The Blackhawk touched down in the middle of the high school football field. A SWAT officer carrying an M4 rifle met the helicopter to escort the response teams to the command post. Sergeant Josh Matthews was devastated. He had lost twelve friends today and had come very close to losing his own life.
His police department took great pride in handling their own situations and their own crises. This was the first time that he knew of that they had had to ask for outside help. He’d heard some stories about the CDC Response Teams and seen some of the news coverage of them in action in the previous week’s terror attacks. Well, he thought, let’s see how good they are because this is the worst situation that I’ve ever seen.
The side door on the helicopter slid open. A giant of a man with a bushy beard stepped out. He was smiling and winked at Josh. Two black guys got out. One of them was muscular and had a shaved head. He was built like a linebacker. The second one was lean like a wide receiver. The next person out was a woman. A really beautiful woman. Josh caught himself staring at her and paid no attention to the other three men that got off the helicopter.
“What’s the matter, Sergeant? Have you never seen such handsome man before?” Another big man stood in front of him. That voice sounded familiar.
“McCain? Is that you? The last I heard, you were getting shot at in Afghanistan. Good to see you.”
The two men embraced. “Good to see you, Josh. I’m sorry to hear about all your guys. Let me introduce you to the boss and you can take us to the CP. Josh Matthews, this is Rebecca Johnson. She has the honor of leading such a fine group of men.”
Josh and Rebecca shook hands. He noticed that she was kitted out just like the men. They all had M4s hanging from their chests. They were all wearing heavy body armor, kevlar helmets, and had Glocks in tactical holsters. And they all looked like they meant business.
The command post was set up in the lower parking lot, about two hundred yards from the school. Chuck estimated that over a thousand students, teachers, and parents were milling around. Many of the students with cars had already left. The school resource officers from several other schools had come to Peachtree Meadow to help out with crowd control. They were doing what they could to keep things somewhat organized. There were eight white sheet-covered figures lying scattered around the command post. All of the sheets had blood stains on them. Other sheet-covered bodies were lying closer to the school.
Inside the CP, Major Hughes was the on-scene commander but there was plenty of other brass hanging around. The Chief of Police, two assistant chiefs, three other majors, three lieutenants, and two sergeants were also in the command post. Several of them were looking at a floor plan of the school and marking the locations for possible survivors. Two of the lieutenants and one of the sergeants were holding AR-15 rifles and keeping an eye on the crowd.
The SWAT Commander, another lieutenant, was standing off to the side, talking on his police radio. An older man in a suit was talking on his cell phone. The major in charge identified him as the school principal and said that he was requesting school buses come and transport these students to a safer location.
McCain knew all of them and they knew him. He had been Josh’s team leader on SWAT for several years. Now Josh was leading his own team. The SWAT commander and Chuck had also served together for years. They all shook hands and McCain introduced them to Rebecca.
“Thanks for coming. We hate having to ask for help, but we’ve gotten torn up today. Here’s what we have,” Major Hughes said. He recounted the events of the early morning.
“The first team of four officers that went into the school never came out. No radio contact, nothing. SWAT got here and sent in an eight-man team to try and locate them. They had to shoot several infected along the way. They finally found the four officers, dead. Two of them had been ripped to pieces by those things. While they were checking the bodies, the two of them that weren’t as torn up woke up, or reanimated, or whatever you call it, as zombies and they had to shoot them.
“SWAT then radioed that they were getting attacked by another, larger group. There was gunfire and then nothing more from them. We lost contact. Sergeant Matthew’s assault team of eight officers rushed in to try and help them. They never even got there. Their team got hit by a group of over thirty infected before they got fifty feet inside the school. They shot a bunch of them but we also lost another four guys. Josh and three others just managed to get back out. A few of the zombies followed them outside and we shot them over there by the front door.
“You can also see we had to shoot these that are covered in sheets,” he said, pointing to the bodies near the CP. “They must’ve gotten bit or something inside and turned after they got outside. The Chief even had to shoot one of them. Those two lieutenants and that sergeant with rifles are providing security for the CP.”
“What about the parents?” Rebecca asked. “The news reports are saying that a lot them managed to get through the perimeter and get inside the school.”
“That’s correct. We have a pretty good perimeter in place now. Earlier though, we were still trying to get a handle on things and I’d say at least fifty to seventy-five parents got inside the school. We’ve caught and detained a lot more. They can sue us later. The ones inside, though will either need to be shot or rescued.”
“Do you think any injured and possibly infected people got away?”
“It’s possible. They probably did. Like I said, it took us a little while to get a clear picture on what was happening. We didn’t realize how big this was for almost twenty minutes. Then it took another ten or fifteen minutes to start getting more officers here. Some infected kids could have gotten out quick, got in their cars and left,” the major said.
“The Department of Homeland Security told us that when you got here, you were in charge. I’m happy to release control of the scene to you, Ms. Johnson. Just tell me what you need.”
“Major, for now, I think it’s better if you keep doing what you’re doing,” Rebecca said. “The FBI and Emergency Management Personnel for the CDC are on their way. We also have our Clean Up Teams coming. They’ll assist your crime scene people with evidence collection, processing the scene, and whatever else you need after we get things stabilized. Right now, I think the most important thing we can do is try and rescue some students and teachers.”
“If you guys could make entry and start rescuing kids and teachers, that would be the greatest way to help us. We have two other SWAT teams from other police departments on their way. I don’t expect to see them for at least an hour, though.“
“Do you have any SWAT officers that could go in with us?” Johnson asked. “I know they’ve had a rough day but it would be good to have the help.”
“Josh, do you want to check with your guys?” asked the major.
“No need, sir. My three guys and I would love to help. I’ll go let them know.”
Chuck intercepted him before he could get away. “Hey, Josh, have you guys got any suppressed weapons?”
“I think we still have some suppressed MP5s in the SWAT truck. Why?”
“These things are drawn to sound and I anticipate that we’re going to be doing a lot of shooting. The less noise we make the better.”
Matthews nodded and hurried to prep his men.
CHAPTER FOUR
Looking the Monster in the Eye
Peachtree Meadow High School, Friday, 1140 hours
“You guys notice that so much of this stuff happens right around lunch or dinner time?” Scotty asked, as they were checking their equipment.
“Tell you what, big guy,” said Jimmy. “When we’re done, let’s get that helicopter driver to put us down at a nice restaurant and you can buy us all dinner.”
Luis stepped up and said, “That’s a good idea, amigo. My vote’s for Mexican food.”
Alejandro nodded at him and gave him a high five. “Fridays are for fajitas and cold cerveza.”
Four paramedics walked up and joined the group. They had on their heavy fire turnout gear, including helmets with face guards, and were carrying medical bags. Normally, the police would have made some funny comments about their fire department brothers. Today, they were welcomed into the circle of officers with handshakes and pats on the back. These fire paramedics had volunteered to accompany the officers into the school. They were unarmed and knew the danger that lay before them. Josh and his other three SWAT officers also joined the group.
“All right you guys, listen up,” said Eddie. “My name’s Eddie Marshall and I’m one of the team leaders. That guy there,” motioning at Chuck, “is our other team leader, Chuck McCain. For you SWAT guys, thanks for going in with us. We’re really sorry about your friends. Maybe we’ll get lucky and find some of them alive. Now, I want to introduce you to our commander, Rebecca Johnson.”
She stepped forward and smiled at all the men. “I echo what Eddie said. We’re all sorry that you lost friends today. I think that the most important thing we can do now is to try and rescue as many of these kids and teachers as we can and eliminate as many of the infected as we can.
“Our rules of engagement are simple. Any hostile, violent, or aggressive infected people are shot in the head. Center mass shots have no effect on them. You guys,” she said, nodding at the four SWAT officers, “have been inside and know how dangerous it is in there. Any non-hostile injured people we come across, we’ll try and help. Our main goal is to rescue people that are hiding. The principal thinks that there could still be a few hundred students and teachers in the school hiding from the zombies.
“We’ll have two teams of six officers, each accompanied by two paramedics. Eddie and Chuck are the team leaders and once we get inside the school, they’re in charge. I’m just an extra gun when the shooting starts. You paramedics, stay close to us and we’ll protect you. Follow the commands of your team leader. There may be some people in there that we can’t help. If the team leader says, ‘Keep moving,’ keep moving.
“Sergeant Matthews, you and your men will need to listen out for us on your radios. We don’t have your frequency on ours. We’ll need to know when those other SWAT teams get here so we don’t have any blue on blue accidents. Questions? Ok, let’s go.”
The plan was for one team to enter from the rear on the far side of the school and the other team to enter through a side entrance of the school closest to the command post. That would hopefully prevent crossfire problems. The police dispatcher had the approximate locations for several groups of survivors. They had called 911 and the dispatcher had relayed that information to the SWAT officers.
These local officers also knew the layout of the school better than the CDC officers. Most SWAT teams train for worst-case scenarios and many of those involve schools. They had conducted an active shooter training scenario inside Peachtree Meadow just a couple of months earlier.
Both of the teams were in place and would enter at the same time. Team Two was at the rear entrance, furthest away from Team One. Jimmy was on point. A former Marine captain with two Iraq combat tours under his belt and a former Alabama State Trooper, he preferred to lead the way. A SWAT officer followed him and team leader, Eddie was number three. Eddie was a former Chicago Police sergeant turned Federal Marshal turned CDC Response Team Leader. A paramedic was next, followed by Rebecca and then the other paramedic assigned to their team. Another SWAT officer followed and Alejandro brought up the rear. Estrada had been a military police officer in the army and then a LAPD officer, hence the nickname, “Hollywood.”
Team One was stacked at a side entrance. Andy Fleming had the point. SWAT Sergeant Josh Matthews was second and team leader Chuck McCain was next. Next in the stack were a paramedic, the other SWAT officer, another paramedic and then Luis García. Luis was a former Miami Police Officer, a former Secret Service Agent, bouncer, and bodyguard. Bringing up the rear was Scotty Smith.
The officers were focused but felt the normal nervousness that accompanied every building entry. What was on the other side of the door waiting for them? They knew their training and experience would kick in as they moved and adrenaline would fuel them for whatever they would encounter.
“Team One in place and ready,” said McCain into his radio headset.
“Team Two is ready,” came Eddie’s response.
The doors of most schools are kept locked. Josh had obtained two keys from the principal. He had one and one of the SWAT officers on Team Two had the other. They stepped up and quickly unlocked the doors.
“Entering now,” Chuck said.
A few seconds later, Marshall said, “We’re in.”
Inside Peachtree Meadow High School, Friday, 1145 hours
They had lain quietly on the classroom floor for almost an hour. A few of the students were getting restless. One of the girls kept whispering loudly that she had to go to the bathroom.
One of the boys looked like he was in the beginning stages of a panic attack. He kept saying, “We have to get out of here,” over and over. Jeffrey didn’t know what a panic attack was by name but he recognized the fear that he saw in the sophomore’s eyes.
Bell crawled over to him. “Listen, man, I understand but we have to stay quiet. The police are going to come get us but right now we can’t make any noise. You have to stay calm. Try taking some deep breathes. That always helps me.”
“Ok, I’ll try,” the boy said.
One of the girls was on the phone with her mother. She was whispering and telling her mom what was happening. One of the guys had managed to get through to 911. He whispered to the dispatcher, asking her to please hurry and send help. He didn’t know the classroom number but he knew the approximate location in the school. Others tried to call out but didn’t have any service on their phones.
Jeffrey crawled back over to his spot by the door. He knew that if the zombies made entry, he was going to have to be the one to try and stop them. He was starting to feel nauseous just like he did before a game. A figure walked slowly up the hallway to their classroom. He was wearing a button down shirt and a tie. His glasses were still on his face but were hanging at a funny angle.
One of the girls in the classroom said, “That’s Mr. Taylor, the assistant principal. Maybe he’s coming to rescue us.”
Jeffrey motioned at her to be quiet but the damage was done. Mr. Taylor turned at the noise and slammed his arms into the window of the classroom door. The glass shattered and ripped his arms to shreds. He didn’t even notice as he growled at the students in the room. His eyes were glazed over and his mouth was opening and snapping shut. He had blood on his face and shirt. The reason his eyeglasses were askew was that his nose was missing. It appeared to have been chewed off and only a bloody hole remained in the middle of his face
.
The door was still closed and the wooden lower part came up to just past Mr. Taylor’s waist. He began to slam his body into the door and the sound of other zombie’s growls filled the hallway as they responded to the noise. The students in the classroom began to lose it. The girls were crying and the guys seemed to have already gone into shock. No one seemed to know what to do. No one except Jeffrey.
Bell jumped to his feet and swung the baseball bat at Mr. Taylor’s head. It was a swing fueled by fear, adrenaline, and Jeffrey’s powerful body. The bat swung through the broken window and caught the former assistant principal full in the forehead. A metal twang reverberated in the classroom and in the hallway. The blow was strong enough to fracture his skull and drop him to the floor.
Jeffrey glanced out into the hall. A group of at least twenty more zombies were coming from the right and another ten or so were coming from the left. The girl who needed to use the bathroom jumped up and ran to the door, screaming at the top of her lungs, “Help us! Please, please, somebody, help us!”
Bell pushed her out of the way. “You need to get back,” he said. “There are more of them coming.”
His wave of fear had passed and a calmness settled over him. It was just like after the football game started. After kickoff, he was always good to go. He looked around the classroom. There was nothing to use for weapons. Nothing.
A loud popping sound came from up the hallway to the right. And then another. And another. Some of the zombies collapsed to the floor with holes in their heads. It sounded like gunshots but not quite as loud.