It didn’t stop, nor show signs of slowing. It had been six weeks since Tom led his first R-Team raid, it was clumsy and awkward, and they had to remind themselves why they were doing it.
After a couple weeks, the routine was tweaked and done without emotion. It had to be that way.
Tom was given the southern division of Pennsylvania. He handpicked his team from the hundreds that were nicknamed ‘Street Cleaners’. The ones who went out after the curfew sirens, picking off the infected as they straggled about.
Tom’s job was a bit more specific. His team went into businesses, hospitals and homes. Anywhere there was a report of harboring Codies.
Usually those situations were dangerous because the Codies were contained in a structure and the longer they were imprisoned without food or a way out, the stronger and faster they were.
It had to be a coordinated raid, get in, clean up, get out.
In the six weeks, Tom had one member of his team take a hit, or rather a bite.
The Codies no longer felt pain, so they had no limitations. There was no pain when the jaw clamped down at two hundred pounds of pressure. Whereas, someone not infected would subconsciously stop themselves.
It would be easier to wear riot gear, like a lot of R-Teams, but Tom felt they hindered movement, agility and speed. Some thought he was insane, but Tom countered that with his statistics they were wrong. He was the only team leader to only lose one member so far.
He didn’t even have time to take a break when a report came in about harboring. Usually it would state how many Codies they had to deal with, but not this one.
It had come in overnight from a nurse at a local hospital. It would be the last one before his team stopped and rested.
“Unconfirmed, we’re working on suspicion,” Tom told his team as they stood outside the single story modular home at 426 Second Avenue, New Eagle, Pa. “There is at least one inside.”
Neighbors had gathered to watch, that usually happened when the team showed up.
“It’s can’t be any bigger than a three bedroom,” a team member said. “So there can’t be many Codies in there, right Major?”
Tom turned around and faced the onlookers. “Anyone know this family?”
An older gentleman raised his hand.
“What can you tell us?” Tom asked. “Members? How many? Anything.”
“I know the husband and wife lived there with their grown daughter. Two grandkids. They have a whole slew,” said the man. “Lots of cars during holidays. But typically five people.”
Tom nodded. “Thanks. Alright team, let’s operate as if there is one in every room. We know what to look for, eyes on the prize. What’s a prize?”
“Stay alive.” They all responded.
“Ears in.” Tom ordered. He placed in his ear piece as did everyone else.
He reached down to the radio clipped to his belt. It was more of a contraption he had for years, and it was part of his personal routine that no one else really did. A music player was connected to the radio and the units duct taped together.
When he pressed play, not only would they hear his commands and be able to communicate with each other, they’d hear the music.
The music gave them timing, each part of the song was part of the raid, choreographed
What started as a joke, became motivation. When he made the rank of Major, everyone started singing Space Oddity by David Bowie, then Tom started playing it to be annoying, then Tom … started using it.
He pressed play.
He didn’t need to order out anything. The start of the intro was the teams signal to take positions. They moved quickly to surround the house. When the first verse began, they raised their launchers and fired in unison as the verses ended.
The cannisters shot through the windows releasing a gas that would render most Codies unconscious, unless they were enraged, in that case the gas did nothing.
The four bar musical interlude was enough time for the gas to work and as the song blasted into the chorus, Tom and his team blasted into the house.
This is Ground Control to Major Tom …
The second Tom stepped in, shots began and he saw a body on the floor by the couch.
“Jesus,” a team member said. “How many are here?”
“Check for life,” Tom said, he walked to the body and rolled it over with his foot. The eyes were red, cheeks streaked with cried bloody tears. Tom whispered, “Rectify.” And fired a single shot into the forehead.
This is Major Tom to Ground Control ...
“Holy shit! It’s a fucking family reunion,” someone shouted.
From the corner of his eye, Tom saw movement and pivoted in the nick of time. A Codie raged his way, leaping at him. Using his rifle like a baseball bat, Tom swatted him. When the Codie fell, Tom swung his weapon around screaming, “Rectify” and fired.
“I got one. Barricaded in. A live one,” came over the radio. “It’s a kid. A boy.”
Tom lifted his head and sighed. It was words he liked to hear. “Get him out. Get him out now.”
“Roger that, Major Tom.”
Within a few seconds, he saw the team member emerge from the back hallway carrying the child at top speed, he raced straight out the door.
Tom continued on with the sweep.
There were more Codies than they expected in the small house. Whoever lived there was caring for them all. They thought they could do it. Medication and bandages were on the counter. It was evident the caretaker tried to feed them as well. Remains of small animals and rodents were scattered about the house.
Something is wrong. Can you hear me, Major Tom? Can you hear me …
The caretaker of the Logan family was dedicated and loved their family very much. Tom wished they understood loving them didn’t include actions of feeding them and allowing them to revive. Showing unconditional love was to end their suffering, rectifying them before revival. They were human though and filled with emotions, rendering them psychologically ill equipped to end a family member’s life. Tom was human, but he didn’t have that emotional attachment. That was why he was there. To do what they couldn’t.
As the song finished, so did the raid inside the Logan home at 426 Second Avenue.
11 – LIGHT
“Mama,” Aggie’s tiny voice, trying hard to whisper, called to June, while her hand had a grip on her arm, trying to wake her. “Mama. Daddy says get up.”
June grunted and rolled to her back, she felt as if she had been hit by a truck. She was non-stop the night before at the hospital. Going from seeing patients in the ER to the third floor where they moved Mrs. Logan and eventually five other patients.
Ung was fascinated when they repeated the process with another man who found it calming to watch videos on his phone of his grandkids.
She spent the evening running about, all twelve hours of her shift. After rubbing her eyes, she looked at the clock. It wasn’t even noon.
“Are you kidding? Honey, mommy just went to bed a couple hours ago.”
“Daddy says he has to go to work.”
“I like how your dad didn’t have the balls to come up here and tell me,” June said, sitting up.
“Huh?”
“Never mind.” She rubbed her daughters head and leaned forward to kiss me. “Go tell him I’ll be right down.”
When Aggie had left the room, June got out of bed, freshened up and headed downstairs. If he was going to wake her up long before she was due, she hoped that Stan would at least have her coffee made. Stan rarely left the house for work. When he did it was for a short span of time and usually after three p.m. The only time he did leave early was if he had a special assignment.
Henny was sitting on the couch reading, June walked over to her, tapped her on the shoulder to alert her presence, then kissed her. Her middle child was not in the living room. She probably was off with Aggie somewhere and June would find her as soon as she has coffee.
Sure enough, Stan extended a piping hot cup of
coffee to her the moment June stepped into the kitchen.
“I’m sorry,” Stan said. “Please forgive me. I hate to do this to you. I know you work really hard now. But, an assignment came up.”
June sipped on coffee as she took a seat at the kitchen table. “I figured it was something like that.”
“Yeah, it’s actually pretty cool.”
“What is it?” June asked.
“Get this. For the next couple days, I’ll be the cameraman on a team following the R-team.”
From over the rim of a cup June lifted her eyes.
“June, I know what you’re thinking. But really this is a good story. This will let people know what the R-team is actually doing. Show people they are a force not to be fearful of, but rather one to be grateful for.”
Grateful.
June knew that people were grateful for their service. They did a job that was difficult and one no one wanted to handle. A tough one. But Stan was correct in thinking that the population just didn’t get the R-team. Immediately in that moment, June’s mind went to just hours beforehand when she was getting ready to leave the hospital. She had just finished checking on her six subjects on the third floor and was walking with Stacey Logan downstairs.
Stacey looked tired and drawn, she had a reason to. Both physically and psychologically. Not only was she dealing with all that was going on with her mother, she helped out quite a bit for June with the test subjects.
“Why don’t you get some rest before going anywhere?” June said. “I can get you a bed right on the third floor. You’ll be safe. You need to sleep. Go get something to eat.”
“I know. I will. But I need to go home first. I think … I think I need to call the R-team. No, I will. I have to. I know it isn’t what my mother wanted. But it’s what I have to do. Maybe I will meet them there. I have to let them know that my son and my father are still in the house.”
“That sounds like a good idea. I know how hard this is for you,” June said as she stepped off the elevator. “I have the number for the R-team at the nurses’ desk. Let me get it for you“
“I appreciate that.”
“Just right over …"
“Miss Logan.” Doctor Ung called out to her. “I was just on my way to see you. Hear me out, don’t panic, it is nothing life-threatening, but your son is here in the emergency room."
Even though he told her not to panic, it was evident to June that Stacey did. She squealed out an, “Oh my God.”
“No.” Dr. Ung said. “Listen, he’s not injured, he received a dose of gas when R-team raided your house. He’s fine. We’re giving him some oxygen to clear his lungs.”
June stepped into the conversation. “The R-team raided her home? When? How?”
“Apparently, someone turned them in.” Dr. Ung responded.
“My father. What about my father?” Stacey asked. “He was there. He was fine. He wasn’t bit.”
“It says …” Doctor Ung look down to his report. “Seven revived. One alive. One male consumed.” His voice dropped on the last word.
June watched as Stacy closed her eyes. Probably trying to absorb the brutal information.
“I would’ve done it,” Stacey said. “I was going to. I was going to call. I wanted to be the one to make the call. My choice. My terms. Who … who would do this to me?”
June didn’t need to say. She lifted her eyes to Patrick, he made brief eye contact and looked away. There was no question in June‘s mind who made the call.
“June. June?” Stan fully snapped June out of that memory.
“I’m sorry.” June sipped her coffee. “I was just thinking about last night.”
“I have to go. I won’t be long. A couple hours at the most. You can rest when I get back.”
“Be safe.”
“Hey, I’m with the best team I can be with. The news station said they had only one incident. One, June. All the others have one per raid. I’m good. I promise.” He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll be back.”
Once more June told him to be careful and then she returned to her coffee. She did feel confident her husband was going to be safe. If he had to be out there on the battleground, there were no better people to be with than the R–team.
12 – CREW
It wasn’t Stan’s job to write the story. His job was to film it and edit it. He’d give an opinion on an angle or a good shot he wanted to get, otherwise he stayed back, camera heaved on his shoulder while he recorded and listened to the audio.
He was often introduced as an afterthought, much like he was when he was introduced to the major. Stan fumbled between balancing the Steadicam and shaking his hand. The major wasn’t at all what Stan expected from the man who led the best R-Team on the East Coast. He expected a huge guy, maybe someone like The Rock. Someone with arrogance and charm, a killer smile that matched his confidence. Instead he met a very humble, serious and quiet man. He wasn’t huge and he looked like the everyday, average, thirty-something guy.
It was obvious that the major took his job seriously, but whether he believed in the project remained to be seen. He answered matter-of-factly and steered from giving opinions.
Just because Stan didn’t conduct the interview, or wasn’t in the thick of the conversation, didn’t mean he was clueless as to what was going on. Stan paid attention.
This story particularly caught his attention.
Stan had no idea how things unfolded. All he knew was that an R-Team went to places and rectified Codies.
The Major explained it all.
There was actually an entire process that unfolded to ensure there were no errors.
The only exception was when the R-Team actually saw the Codies themselves. Otherwise, calls or online reports were received by the national center, who passes on the information to the division. Each division has one R-Team, but several scouts. The scout goes to the location and assesses. He or she either do that by knocking on doors, looking in windows, whatever it took to confirm the presence of the revived.
Once confirmed, a report is generated and is placed on the schedule for the R-Team. How many raids they did per day depended on how long each raid took. According to the Major, some raids were fast, others were complicated. They did their best to be respectful.
They also did their best to let surviving family members know what all happened.
“It’s the job, and you do it the best you can,” the major said to the reporter, Ellie. “For example, this morning we did a raid on a house. We received reports there was at least one revived in the home. The mother was trying to take care of her infected adult daughter and was bit. She went to the hospital and that’s how we were informed. When we went in it appeared the entire family had revived. Two remained, a boy and his grandfather. The boy was still barricaded in his room, but the grandfather was outside the door, he had been eaten to the point he wouldn’t revive.”
“So the grandfather was protecting her child?” Ellie asked.
“In his own way he was protecting him by being a diversion.”
“What about this place today?”
The major looked over his shoulder to a three story apartment building. “This is a little tricky. There are no easy access to deliver the gas. Management tells us the apartment is occupied by an elderly couple with no children. So chances are, at most there are two in there. Age plays a factor into how fast they can move, as well. Our scout knocked on the door and no answer, but he did hear groaning and noises. Matching the report we received.
Stan snickered.
The major looked at him. “That’s funny.”
“Yeah, it is. What if they’re having sex?” Stan asked. “I mean my grandparents used to go at it and loud, because both of them were hard of hearing …” he paused and cleared his throat. “What if it’s an innocent situation?”
“Then they’ll answer the door, won’t they?”
“But when has a Codie made a sound?” Stan asked.
The major i
gnored his question and hand signaled three of his team to follow him. “We use everyone, there’s no way to circle the building.”
Stan, camera rolling, followed behind Ellie as they tagged along with the major and the three other soldiers.
The apartment was on the second floor of the building at the end of the hall.
The four of them formed a diamond position with the major at the door. He looked back at Ellie. “Stay in the rear until we are in. Got that?”
Stan waved a free hand.
Ellie looked nervous, she stood next to Stan wearing riot gear. She glanced his way passing a forced smile. “This is exciting.”
“Ears in,” the major said.
“Yeah.” Stan nodded to indicate the major. “What are they doing?”
The team of four placed in earphones.
“I don’t know. My earpiece is quiet and …” Ellie paused. “Wait. They’re playing music.”
“Really?”
The Major knocked on the door. “Mr and Mrs. Anderson, Major Tom Leland from the R-Team, are you in there?” He paused then knocked again. “R-Team, are you okay in there?” The major peered over his shoulder. “Folks you can go back to your apartments, thank you.”
Stan did a quick look behind him. Residents of the building had gathered in the hall.
“Get ready,” the major called out, using a key he unlocked the door. He held up three fingers, hesitated then used them to countdown. When he had a closed fist he shoved open the door.
He only took a single step forward when two of his team charged passed him. They all spread out in the apartment.
Stan didn’t want to miss anything, so he hurried into the apartment.
There were no Codies, the apartment was neat and clean, Stan filmed around the living room, trying to find something.
“In here!” someone shouted from the small hallway off the kitchenette.
Stan ran that way. When he arrived the team was entering the bedroom.
At first glance, Stan was embarrassed, he one hundred percent believed he was correct in his prediction of what the couple was up to.
The old man was on the bed, his back propped up against the pillow. His head flung back, as he groaned out. Mrs. Anderson was in a nightgown. One of those flowery things that came to just below the knees. Her veiny white legs poked out as she bent over the bed, head toward his lap.
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