Chapter 1
Raising up his rifle Bruce yelled, “Fire!” and lead poured out from the farm into the advancing horde as the clan opened fire. Over a thousand weapons erupted along the perimeter at once. The horde looked like a fluid mass of a single life form as it advanced from the tree line toward the farm on all sides at once.
Shells from the clan hit the wall of bodies wiping out complete rows of the attacking horde. The Strykers, Bradleys and LAVs churned out thousands of rounds as the horde advanced into the three hundred yard killing-field around the farm. The body of a blue just exploded when a 25mm shells hit it, along with the eight bodies behind it. Gunners in the towers, manning the 50 calibers and mini-guns sent long arcs of fire into the front ranks mowing down the front line. The blues behind the advancing line were slowing down, due to climbing over the piles of the dead.
In the first two minutes of battle, the horde advanced thirty yards from the tree line losing over eighty thousand but these losses meant nothing. Blues crawled over bodies and body parts of those that had gone down as they continued to press the attack on the clan. The blues felt a hatred of those not infected. They didn’t know why but they just wanted to kill them.
The belt fed weapons that maintained the wall of hot lead holding the horde back, ran dry almost at the same time all around the farm. Those with rifles couldn’t keep the wall of fire up. In the time it took the crews to reload, the horde had gained another sixty yards closer to the farm. The heavy machine gun positions were not outright killing many but they were keeping the horde from closing the distance.
Bruce had his SCAR on burst, squeezing the trigger when he saw a head pass through his scope. The head would vanish as he moved his aim to another. At the tree line he averaged six kills for every thirty rounds he sent down range using burst. The chatter of machine gun fire suddenly decreased, when the heavy weapons ran dry and the horde advanced to two hundred and thirty yards as Bruce flipped his rifle to semi. Continually squeezing the trigger, he started averaging sixteen kills for every magazine. Again, almost as one, the belt fed heavy weapons started firing again into the wall of blues pressing on the clan. The sea of bodies that had been advancing steadily came to a stop.
Slamming his tenth magazine in, Bruce keyed his radio, “Mike, call the towers and tell them only one heavy gun firing at a time. When one runs out, the other one fires as it reloads. Then do the same along the perimeter for the vehicles. We have to keep a steady fire into them or they’re going to overrun us in half an hour!” Bruce yelled into his radio. The pace of this battle was much faster than Bruce had imagined.
Dropping another magazine and replacing it, Bruce continued to send hate down range as he squeezed the trigger. Replacing another magazine Bruce noticed a decrease in the volume of fire going out with half the heavy weapons not firing, but the blues were only advancing by few feet at a steady pace as Mike come over the radio, “Okay, I gave them the orders. Just to let you know, the northwest corner is the most critical now. The blues have closed to hundred and fifty yards there. I’ve sent half of Gamma to reinforce.”
“Start the ammo-kids now, we’re eating up ammo at a rate I never thought possible. Don’t forget your Hellfires to break up bulges in their advance,” Bruce replied back. As if on cue, several large explosions sounded off in the distance mixed in with the impacting mortars.
“We’re sending out missiles and have detonated all the perimeter fuel bombs that were left but the blues are just running through the fire!” Mike yelled back.
Noticing smoke pouring off his barrel when his bolt locked back, Bruce laid down the rifle and picked up another SCAR he had positioned at his feet before the fight. Bringing the weapon to his shoulder he continued to squeeze the trigger when the crosshairs of his sight rested on a head. Feeling his bolt lock Bruce reached down into the bag of magazines to get another one and only felt two in the bag. He had started with fifty magazines in the bag.
Buffy was ten feet from Bruce, kneeling down like Jake had taught her, squeezing the trigger when a head crossed her rifle sight. With the mass advancing toward them, she never waited more than a second or two between trigger pulls. Dropping an empty magazine and grabbing another, Buffy glanced around. Daddy was standing and pulling his trigger real fast with his aimed shots. As she watched Bruce empty a magazine in twenty seconds she knew he had taken out almost thirty blues. Daddy would usually only miss once or twice in a whole magazine, the first and last shot. Jake told her that was because Daddy was usually excited on the first shot and the bolt locking back messed up his rhythm. Pulling her rifle up, Buffy started shooting into the sea of bodies as a boy ran up throwing a bag of magazines beside her. Then a little girl ran up gathering Buffy’s empty ones.
Slamming in another magazine, Bruce sighted and noticed the blues’ line was around two hundred yards in his ACOG as he squeezed the trigger. Never waiting for impact, Bruce adjusted and continued firing as a small boy dropped off a bag of magazines at Bruce’s feet. Out of the corner of his eye Bruce saw the little boy gathering the magazines Bruce had dropped. Bruce stepped up to get out of his way then continued to kill.
Jake and Matt were side by side mowing down blues. They both were averaging a hundred to a hundred and twenty shots a minute and almost all were kills. The only reason that they couldn’t get more shots a minute is that they had to change magazines. Jake saw his rifle barrel smoking, grumbling he laid it to the side, picked up another one and started again.
Tears were still running down Stephanie’s cheeks as she fired at the horde. Every shot hit one but she was only averaging ten to fifteen kills per magazine as she fired while crying. Changing magazines, she looked at Bruce laying out a wall of death. Never would she had believed that you could feel the hate boil off someone until Bruce had come outside on the patio. Taking a deep breath as she shouldered her weapon, pulling it to her tight, she started shooting. “I’ll watch over him, Debbie, no matter what. I wish you would’ve made me understand that you knew this was coming. I love you, and you were my first, best friend,” Stephanie mumbled then felt a sense of peace come over her. Changing magazines, Stephanie stepped up beside Bruce and continued killing.
On the west wall, Paul was up on the tower by the gate, manning a fifty caliber. He had just finished loading it, waiting on the mini gun beside him to run dry. Looking out at the field he was still shaken by the sheer number of bodies coming at them, it looked like a single life form instead of a mass of bodies. The mini-gun beside him was sending out arcs of tracers hosing down the front ranks. It fired the 7.62 or .308, and when that bullet hit, it blew large holes in your target but the blues would just get back up, if they could, and keep coming. When a bullet from Paul’s fifty hit a blue, they usually blew apart. They had put ten thousand round ready boxes on the mini-guns but at four thousand rounds a minute they were reloading after three to four minutes. His fifty had a five thousand round ready box and he would have to reload every five minutes. He had already changed the barrel once. So far, they had been able to keep a steady rate of fire up, since they had started alternating firing. The two people manning the mini-gun could reload the ready-box in five minutes and Paul’s crew could reload in three. Hearing the mini run dry, Paul pushed the trigger and Ma Duce started talking.
At the west fence line, Bill was changing magazines when the M-1 tank fired again, causing him to look. When the M-1 fired its anti-personal round, a whole section of the blue line just vanished into a mist. The problem was that the blues just filled the empty void back up and continued charging at the fence. Raising his rifle, Bill started firing again, watching the blues just pile up. The west mortars had moved their fire to the north because the blues in the west field were now over the buried fuel stora
ge. ‘I’m real glad they don’t have weapons,’ Bill thought as he changed magazines and prayed. He was reminded of the old movies of mass charges but this was ridiculous. The blues were running on piles of their own dead in most places stacked four or five deep but they still came. Bringing his weapon up, Bill yelled out as he opened fire.
Father Thomas was at the south wall guarding the ammo delivery crews of kids. Looking out over the fence his blood ran cold seeing the wall of blues coming at them. He raised up his rifle and fired as fast as he could pull the trigger. “Moving Father!” a little girl yelled at him. Lowering his rifle he ran to the cart and jumped on as they headed back to the underground bunker to drop off empty magazines and grab loaded ones.
An hour into the attack Bruce was half way through resupply bag number three and the blues were hundred and twenty yards away. Now at that range he was getting kills almost equaling the boys. Changing rifles, Bruce looked out to the battle field and noticed the bodies. The dead blues were piling up exponentially making a ramp to the farm for those behind them. The bodies were stacked around five feet high in a make shift ramp. Watching the horde, Bruce noticed that they were slowing down as they tried to cross the sea of dead and wounded bodies. Launching a grenade Bruce grinned as it exploded.
“Bruce, northwest corner, the blues are at the fifty yard mark,” Mike called over the radio as Bruce pulled his weapon up and sent more hate down range.
“Any other areas close to that bad?” Bruce called back changing magazines.
“Yeah, south center isn’t looking good; they just pushed to the seventy yard mark. West wall line in places is at the eighty yard mark,” Mike reported.
“Anywhere they’re slacking off?” Bruce asked changing mags.
“The only place that would qualify is in front of you,” Mike told him.
“What’s reserve status?” Bruce asked changing again as another ammo bag was thrown at his feet and a little girl this time gathered up his empties.
“None, I can’t pull from the hundred and fifty in the reloading or resupply crew’s, because they are barely keeping up,” Mike relayed.
‘We are so close to being fucked’, Bruce thought. “Get ready with the fuel trailers and get them in position in the south center and northwest corner. I’ll pull from Omega if the northwest gets worse. If what’s in front of me is the ‘light’ area this isn’t good. Pull four hummers off the east wall and send two to each area. Have them sit forty yards back from the breach points. They’ll have to stem the tide until we can send people,” Bruce said pulling a magazine off his vest since his bag was now empty.
“Trailers are moving,” Mike reported.
“I’m not going to lie. I wasn’t expecting the attack to be this fast. I really expected the mass of bodies to slow them down a lot more,” Bruce admitted over the radio as another bag of magazines were dropped at his feet.
“You may want to start moving to the northwest corner,” Mike advised.
“Squad one, we’re moving to northwest corner. Willie, you have the helm, if I see you in hell let’s skull fuck Satan!” Bruce called out picking up his bag of magazines.
“You got it boss. We’ll tag team his ass!” Willie called back never looking back as he kept firing into the horde.
“Bruce, I didn’t mean for you to go!” Mike yelled over the radio.
“These fuckers here are staying at the hundred yard mark I want some up close,” Bruce informed Mike. Buffy, Danny, Jake, Mindy, Angela and Stephanie followed Bruce as he took off running.
“Breach northwest! Breach northwest!” Mike yelled out as they passed the barn.
“Calm down motherfucker, don’t get excited, we’re halfway there. Tell the other areas to stay put but one man per position is to pull rear guard. Seal the underground,” Bruce said breaking into a run seeing the hummers ahead opening fire.
“Our reloading teams are in there with the ammo we’re using!” Mike yelled back.
“So is the future. Now leave me alone, it’s slaughter time,” Bruce said laughing.
Father Thomas heard the call go out to close the underground bunker as he dropped off magazines to the groups on the west wall, almost at the northwest corner. “Kids, get in the buggy and get back to the bunker. I’m staying here, now move!” he yelled looking up at the breech point. Blues were pouring over the wall like water. Father Thomas took off running toward the breech, stopping fifty yards away he knelt down and started firing as the kids pulled away crying. Dropping an empty magazine, Father Thomas started reciting the Lord’s Prayer as he lined up his sights trying to buy the kids time to get back to the bunker.
Helping the kids gather magazines, Jim heard gunfire behind him inside the farm. Turning around, Jim saw Father Thomas shooting from a kneeling position, looking up at where he was shooting Jim saw blues pouring over the wall. “Kids, get on the buggy and get out of here now!” Jim yelled at them. Helping the kids get on the buggy they took off as Jim ran toward Father Thomas carrying his shovel. Out of the corner of his eye, Jim saw a blue running for the Father. Turning towards it, Jim swung his shovel with everything he could hitting the blue in the face. The blue did a complete flip and fell to the ground dead.
Hearing something, Father Thomas turned to see Jim whacking several other blues that had gotten behind him. “Father, in front of you!” Jim yelled at him.
Spinning his aim back around, Father Thomas was alarmed at the sight of so many blues coming over the wall but raised his rifle and attempted to stem the tide as Jim beat any that got close to his back.
Jumping the fence in the northwest field Bruce saw a lone figure ahead with a belt fed gun raking the top of the wall. Two hummers pulled up behind her raking the top of the berm. Getting closer Bruce saw it was Carroll holding an M-60 trying to stem the tide. The massive machine gun was bucking in her arms with the strap hanging over her shoulder. ‘Damn, a grandma Rambo,’ Bruce thought. “Where’s Marcus?” Bruce asked bringing up his rifle sending a grenade out to the tower that blues were in and speed shooting blue targets. The fence was only thirty yards away with blue bodies piling up and wounded blues just crawling over. On the ground in front of him, he could see clan members bodies mixed in with the blues.
“Went ta get some mo’ bullets, I can’t be movin’ that fast,” Carroll answered him calmly holding on tight to the bucking weapon.
Every shot Bruce sent out took out a blue as he dropped a magazine every twenty seconds. “Well move your ass now. You’re fixing to melt your barrel if you don’t lay off the trigger!” Bruce warned her.
“Gots another one beside me!” Carroll yelled as she fired the last of her belt dropping the gun and picked up another M-60. Lifting it up Carroll started where she left off.
They started to widen their fields of fire as Bruce reached in his bag and was out of magazines. Pulling a magazine off his vest, he knew this was fixing to get fun, “Girls, when I say head to the barn. Go to the second floor and hold the stairwell!” Bruce yelled out.
“Bruce, you can suck my dick! Where you go, I go!” Stephanie yelled at him.
Bruce felt his bolt lock back and pulled out another magazine when he looked up spotting a blue coming at him. Slamming the mag in, Bruce felt something run by him. Looking down, Bruce saw a blond streak running at the blue. Buffy dove into its legs knocking it down then jumped up running back to the blue shooting it in its face. “Bitch,” Buffy said as she ran back to Bruce.
“Mike, I’m not one to point out short coming, but I fucking ran here. Where’s the fuel trailer? They stop for coffee?” Bruce called over the radio.
“Almost there,” Mike told him.
Then Bruce saw an ATV pulling a trailer of fuel. Bruce ran over and practically threw the young girl driving it off. Jumping on then grabbing the nozzle off the trailer, Bruce turned the pump on and hit the throttle, “Yeehaw cocksuckers, I have a present for you!” Bruce yelled out as he threw up dirt speeding towards the fence. The big ATV just bounced over the dead
blues pulling the trailer loaded with fuel. Lifting the nozzle up, Bruce sped along the fence spraying blues, dead and alive as he sped past.
When the nozzle spit out air Bruce hit the brakes and jumped off. Raising his rifle he shot a 40mm grenade, igniting the fuel. A thunderous ‘Whoosh’ filled the air. Screams from the blues could be heard across the property as the fire consumed dead and alive.
“Anyone need a light?” Bruce called out over the radio not seeing any blues trying to get over the fence where the fire ended in front of him.
“Bruce, they’re almost all gone. We only have a ring of three to four deep around the farm, and some are actually running away from us,” Mike called out.
“Tell everyone to open up with everything they have,” Bruce said running to the fence grabbing a bag of magazines he saw lying beside a dead clan member.
Reaching the fence, Bruce saw Mike was right as he raised his rifle and joined the last of the killing. Ten minutes later it was over, leaving Bruce with only four loaded magazines out of forty-eight on his heavy vest and smoke pouring off the barrel of his rifle. Only wounded blues remained and the clan was starting to fix that problem. Running and jumping back on the ATV, Bruce picked up first squad and drove back to the east fence.
When he got there the rest of Omega was standing on the berm looking at the field. Bruce and his crew joined them. Blue bodies stretched from the fence to the tree line. Forty yards out from the fence to half way across the kill zone, Bruce figured the bodies were stacked about six to seven feet high and in some places well over ten. All through the pile he could see blues moving and some people were stopping that. Looking at his watch, Bruce realized the clan had killed over a million blues in just over three hours.
“You have to love modern weaponry!” Bruce yelled out keying his radio. “Mike, open the underground and get ammo out. We have wigglers in the pile around us and they make me horny,” Bruce said as he used up his last four magazines.
“I did that already,” Mike answered.
Blue Plague: Rage Page 1