We rush inside, sweeping our rifles around the room. Several corpses with name badges pinned to their shirts wander amongst the rows of chairs. I don’t see any survivors. I square my rifle on one of the dead and fire. My first burst misses hitting the thing in the head.
Fucking hand.
It hurts like hell to hold the grip and my aim is shit because of it. I cringe in anticipation of the pain as I squeeze the trigger again. My second attempt punches through the forehead of the corpse and it slams into several folding chairs as it topples to the floor.
We quickly clear the remaining threats in the room and then look around at the carnage. Blood splatters the walls and pools of dark crimson soak into the maroon carpet on the floor. Chairs are toppled sideways. A slideshow flickers through images of white cells or some shit on the blood-splattered screen.
“Start checking bodies,” Sarge orders us as he grabs the radio on his jacket.
We begin checking the corpses around the room to see if any of our targets are among them. I don’t spot anyone that might possibly match the pictures we were shown. The rattle of automatic fire continues in the hallway as team two and team three hold back the dead.
“Nightmare One Actual,” Sarge says into the radio. “This is Nightmare One-One, how copy?”
“Copy, Nightmare One-One,” says Will. “What is your status? Over.”
“We just reached the conference room,” Sarge says. He pauses for a moment to look at me and I look up from the body and shake my head. “No sign of the targets. How should we proceed? Over.”
I glance back down at the dead body on the floor. It seems wrong for some reason. The guy with the thick glasses falling off his face and receding hairline looks dead as hell. There is a massive bite wound in his neck.
Then I realize what bothers me.
His head seems fine. No sign of trauma.
As soon as I come to that realization, his eyes open up. I swing the rifle around and pull the trigger several times as the dead guy opens his jaws and tries to sit up. His face fragments, sending chunks of flesh and bone flying, before he falls to the ground again.
Will transmits something on the radio, but I can’t hear it over the report of the rifle.
“Negative copy,” says Sarge. He covers his ear to hear better. “Say again.”
I glance around the room and wonder how many more of the bodies could get up at any moment.
“I repeat, split into teams and check out the rooms,” Will says loudly. “Do you copy?”
“Solid copy,” Sarge says.
He waves a finger around in a circle.
“Let’s go,” he tells us.
We follow him back out of the bloodbath in the conference room. Scores of dead bodies line the hallway now, but more and more stiffs are still emerging from the mall entrance. Sarge gestures to Lowe and Strong and they pull their teams back behind us, though dozens of corpses pursue us back to the casino.
That’s when it really hits me how fucked we are.
Even though we have remained in complete control of the situation at all times, it is just a matter of time before something goes wrong. No matter how many of these things we drop, there will always be more of them coming for us. We will run out of bullets before we could possibly kill them all. The only way it will end is when we’re dead. We need to hurry up and get the fuck out of here before that happens.
I turn around as we enter the casino again. We walk back through the endless flashing lights of slot machines.
“We’ll take the ninth floor,” Sarge says to the other team leaders.
“We got twelve,” Lowe says.
“I guess we’ll take twenty-two then,” Strong says.
“Let’s head back up the same stairwells,” Lowe suggests. “Make sure they all stay clear so none of these things get back upstairs.”
“Good call, Lowe. See you boys up top,” Sarge says, but then he stops walking.
His eyes focus on the front doors of the casino where a massive mob of the dead pounds at the glass. The things outside must have heard all the gunshots and swarmed to the entrance. There has to be thousands of them out there now.
“Mother of God,” gasps Sergeant Lowe as he turns to look.
“Those doors won’t hold them forever,” says Sergeant Strong.
“We better get moving,” Sarge says.
As soon as we start walking again, we hear the sound of glass shattering. A loud roar from the moaning corpses outside fills the casino floor as the first of the things stumbles into the lobby.
Staying to try and fight the entire city is not an option, so we break into a sprint for the stairwells.
“Nightmare One Actual,” Sarge radios to Will. “This is Nightmare One-One. We have heavy contact at the front entrance. Please advise.”
“Roger, Nightmare One-One,” says Will. “Do not engage. Charlie Mike. Fall back to upper floors. Copy?”
“Solid copy,” says Sarge as we reach the hallway.
We race up the stairs. Within a few flights of climbing the steps two at a time, I feel the burn in the muscles of my legs. Sarge pauses at the door on the ninth floor.
“Hardcore,” he says. “Post up out here. The second anyone comes up those stairs I want to know about it.”
Harding nods. We stack up on the door. After Sarge glances around to make sure we are ready, he nods to Arnes to tell him to open the door to the hallway. Arnes twists the handle and shoves the door.
The corpse of a guy wearing a metal t-shirt with long blonde hair, stained red with blood, stands just a few feet from the door. About a half-dozen more walking dead stumble around the hallway just behind him.
We open fire.
Errant bullets zip down the hallway, shattering sconces and tearing holes in the drywall. High-caliber rounds shred the dead bodies at close range, and within a few seconds all of them are down.
I check the numbers on the doors as we advance.
“What room was it, Chase?” Sarge asks. He knows I will remember.
“Nine fourty-six,” I tell him.
Several other corpses stagger around the corner near the elevators as we work our way down the hall. We have to pause again and drop the last of the dead. Then we push forward until we reach the room that Miss Davies was checked into.
Sarge knocks softly on the door, and listens for a moment but hears nothing inside. He looks at Arnes and jerks his head toward the door and then moves out of the way.
Arnes shotguns the door. A woman screams inside as he kicks the door open. We rush in to find the redhead clutching a lamp in a threatening manner.
“Miss Davies,” Sarge says her name right away.
The woman scans our uniforms and our faces but does not respond. She stands there in her Stanford t-shirt and pajama pants that are filthy and bloodstained. Her fingers clench the base of the lamp tightly and she takes a step back toward the cracked window.
“We’re here to help,” Sarge says. “It’s okay.”
I lower my rifle and take a couple steps toward her.
“You can put the lamp down now, lady,” I tell her.
She retreats another step but lets me take the lamp from her. She wraps her arms around me and lets out a sob into my chest. I drop the lamp and it hits the floor with a thud. The lightbulb pops when it shatters.
“You’re okay, now,” I assure her. “We’re going to bring you someplace safe.”
I pry her off me and sit her down in a chair beside the window. Her fingers find the armrests and squeeze the padding.
“Nightmare One Actual, this is Nightmare One-One,” Sarge radios to the lieutenant. “We’ve located Miss Davies. She’s alive.”
“Copy that, Nightmare One-One. Good work, Sergeant,” says Will. “Find out if she has any idea as to the whereabouts of Shah or Winters, copy?”
“Solid copy,” says Sarge. He looks over at me and tells me with his eyes to question Miss Davies, but I have my doubts that we will be able to get much information f
rom her.
The chick is a mess.
“Miss Davies,” I say as I take a knee beside her in the chair.
She stares at her trembling hands, and then clutches them together in her lap, so I put a hand on them to steady her.
“I need to know if you know where we can find Dr. Shah and Mr. Winters. Do you know who I am talking about?” I ask her.
“Ben,” she whimpers. “He’s dead.”
“You’re sure about that?” I ask her.
She nods her head.
“I was having drinks with him late last night. That’s when this all started,” she explains. “I saw it. I watched him die right in front of me.”
I can tell she is about to lose it as she replays the incident in her mind.
“What about Dr. Shah?” I ask her. “Ahmed Shah?”
She looks at me with a puzzled expression.
“I don’t know,” she says. “The last time I saw him was downstairs at the conference yesterday.”
“Are you sure?” I ask her.
“No, wait,” she thinks about it. “I saw him with a woman in the casino last night. He was there when it started, but I don’t know what might have happened to him.”
I look back at Sarge and he grabs the mic on his jacket.
“Nightmare One-Three, this is Nightmare One-One,” Sarge radios to reach Sergeant Strong and let his team know that Winters is gone. “Be advised Miss Davies has confirmed Winters is down. How copy?”
There is a long pause on the other end. The sound of small arms fire coming from the other end of the building echoes through the halls along with the incessant blaring of the fire alarm.
“Nightmare One-Three, this is Nightmare One-One,” Sarge repeats. “Do you copy?”
“You should grab your things, ma’am,” I tell Miss Davies. “We need to get moving.”
She nods and gets up from the chair to grab her bag and her laptop. Then she moves over to the dresser and scoops out her clothes.
“Nightmare One, this is One-Three” Sergeant Strong yells. Gunshots cut off his voice. “We have heavy contact on twenty-two. Requesting support. Over.”
“We need to get the fuck out of here,” someone yells in the background.
“Copy, One-Three,” Sergeant Lowe responds. “One-Two is en route to your position.”
“Hurry the fuck up,” Strong yells.
The sound of gunfire picks up briefly and then tapers off again.
“One-Three, how copy?” transmits Lowe.
The comms stay silent. Claire puts her duffel bag over her shoulder and nods to let Sarge know she is ready to go.
“Come in, One-Three,” Lowe repeats.
The comms go quiet for a long moment, finally a mic clicks on but no one speaks. We just hear the sound of those things snarling and chewing followed by muffled screams in the background. Then the comms go quiet again.
“Hang on, One-Three. Almost there,” Sergeant Lowe pants into the microphone. “Shit!”
More gunfire crackles before the transmission ends again.
“Nightmare One-Two, come in,” radios the lieutenant.
Nothing but dead air. I look at Sarge and can see the concern on his face as we lose contact with the other squads.
“What is your status, One-Two?” Will repeats.
“Sarge, are we going to get our asses down there and help them or what?” Arnes says.
Sarge holds up a hand to tell him to shut up as the comms come to life again. A fierce firefight rages in the background as Sergeant Lowe barks orders at his men.
“Fall back!” Lowe yells. “There’s too fucking many of them.”
“Lowe, give me a fucking sitrep,” orders Lieutenant Reasoner.
“Strong is down,” pants Lowe. “Reeves, Mack, and Riddle all down. Break.”
“Copy that. What is your position One-Two?” Reasoner asks.
“Twenty-second floor, west stairwell. Fuck... lay down some fucking fire on those things, Javi!”
Someone screams in the background as more gunfire erupts over the comms.
“Fuck this,” Arnes grunts as he turns and starts back down the hall. “We need to get in this fight.”
“Hold up,” says Sarge.
“Pull your men out of there, Lowe,” the lieutenant orders him. “Haul ass back to the extraction point, copy?”
We hear the gunfire pick up on the floors above us. Sergeant Lowe either can’t respond or he is being torn to shreds right now.
“Nightmare One Actual, this is One-One,” says Sarge. “Request permission to provide additional support for One-Three. Over.”
“Negative, One-One,” Will says. “Miss Davies remains the priority. Get her up top to prep for evac. How copy?”
“This is bullshit,” Arnes gripes.
“I don’t like it either,” Sarge says. He scans the faces of our team. None of us wants to go back upstairs and leave our guys to die.
“Negative copy,” radios Sarge. “Picking up a lot of static, sir. Say again. Over.”
“Charlie Mike, One-One,” the lieutenant says. “Proceed to the evac point immediately. Do you copy?”
Sarge doesn’t bother responding. There is no way we are leaving our guys.
“Mac, take Harding and get Miss Davies upstairs,” Sarge says. “We’ll be right behind you.”
Mac nods and then he leads the redhead out to the hallway to pick up Harding and head upstairs.
“Nightmare One-One, do you copy?” the lieutenant demands over the radio but Sarge makes no move to respond.
“You guys with me?” Sarge asks the rest of us.
“We got your back,” says Gibby.
Arnes grunts and racks the shotgun.
“Ready,” I nod.
“Let’s go bring our fucking guys back then,” Sarge says.
Six
We run down the hallway and rush up the west staircase to the twenty-second floor. The closer we get, the more clearly we can hear the fierce battle and the mob that awaits us. Arnes grabs the handle and pushes the stairwell door and we spot Sergeant Lowe halfway down the hall dragging Corporal Pittman by the collar of his uniform.
Behind him, Corporal Dakota Hurst and Doc Noonan help a bloody Corporal Sykes by draping his arms across their shoulders and pulling him along between them. Zamora and Carrasco take up firing positions behind them to hold off the advancing horde long enough to cover their retreat.
Picking the dead off one or two at a time had been pretty easy, but now hundreds of them surge down the hallway all at once. There is no way we can stop all of them. All we can do is slow them down enough to give Lowe and his squad a chance to get the hell out of here.
“Last mag,” Carrasco calls as he retreats behind Zamora and reloads his rifle. Zamora picks off the closest targets until his mag runs dry, then he turns and falls back as Carrasco resumes firing.
Sarge waves an arm to signal them to keep moving as we open fire on the oncoming wall of bloody meatbags several doors down.
As much as I try to be accurate, these things don’t make it easy. They hunch over, jerk to the side, stumble and knock each other around awkwardly as they move. The unnatural movements mean it often takes several bursts of fire before I hit one in the skull and drop it.
No matter how many rounds we send their way, it does little to slow the advance of the horde. They just trample the fallen bodies into the floor as they relentlessly surge toward us.
“Come get some, motherfuckers!” Arnes yells out in between blasts from the shotgun. The rest of us fall back but he keeps firing as they close in on him.
“Arnes, maintain your distance!” Sarge barks.
Arnes ignores him, sticks the barrel of the shotgun into the mouth of a chick as she lunges for him and pulls the trigger. Her brains splatter all over the stiffs behind her, but they don’t even seem to notice. Arnes turns, grinning like a madman, his eyes wild with adrenaline as he races down the hall to catch up with us.
“Did you see that shit?
” he laughs.
I ignore him and focus fire from my M4 on the swarm of humanity. I drop several more of the dead before retreating further down the hall, but it all feels so futile. At least we bought enough time for Sergeant Lowe and his team to make it to the stairs. I crouch next to the door of another room, put in a fresh mag and take aim again. I keep firing and drop half a dozen bodies before the tracer rounds come out. My mag is almost empty. Sarge yells at me to run for the stairs, so I start moving as fast as I can. Zamora stands beside him with the M32 grenade launcher pointed in my general direction. As I move through the doorway, I hear the bloop of the grenade being fired. Sarge and Zamora duck in to the hall behind me and slam the door just before the explosion rattles the building.
“That won’t slow them down for long,” Sarge says. “Let’s go.”
We scramble up the stairs, grabbing at the rails to haul our bodies up flight after flight. Before we even climb five levels, the things are pounding at the door to the stairwell. Somehow they get the door open as we round the landing at the thirtieth floor and the sound of the things snarling and moaning fills the stairwell.
I’m already gasping for air. Only five more flights to go. I glance down over the railing and see the motion sensor lights several floors below us. Those things are slow, but they never need to stop and catch a breath.
“Nightmare One, this is One-One,” Sarge says into the comms. “We are Oscar Mike to your position with two critical wounded and multiple hostiles on our six. How copy?”
“Copy One-One,” says Will.
“Nightmare One, interrogative,” says Sarge. “What is the ETA on that inbound dustoff?”
“One-One, we have a situation developing up here,” says Will. “Be advised, we lost contact with Nightmare Actual. Nellis may be compromised. Over.”
“Shit,” says Sarge.
“We’re fucked now,” Gibby says as he rounds the corner and continues up the stairs.
“They got to send somebody to get us out of here,” I pant.
“I wouldn’t count on it,” Sarge says. “I think we’re on our own now.”
By the time we reach the top floor, my muscles burn and I’m sucking air through my mouth. I look down and see the things are maybe ten flights down and still coming. We move in the hallway and close the door.
ROTD (Book 3): Rage of the Dead Page 4