by Gary Hickman
“Copy that,” Webb said. “You two make your way down so we can load up. Priest, before we roll out of here, we have a couple of civilian survivors on the other side of the terminal who are trapped. We need to get them out.”
Priest looked at him, “We don’t want to compromise our mission getting Dr. Costa to Dearborn. We cannot delay getting her there.”
“I have contacted those civilians and told them we were coming for them.” Webb explained.
Priest lowered his head in thought and after a long moment, he sighed, “We can’t leave people out here. I’ll take Shaw and Doc, and we’ll get the civilians out. You take Abarra, Neville and Shin with you to Dearborn. You’ll also have Kennedy and Bolin. Gear them up, which gives you two more troops.”
“I don’t like the idea of splitting the team.” Webb replied.
“I don’t either, but if you have something better, I’m all ears.”
Webb didn’t. He knew Priest was right. “Ok, so be it. We’ll give you a lift to the other side of the terminal and then proceed to the CDC in Dearborn.”
“Ok, drop us on the roof so we can assess the best way to get these people out.”
The Blackhawk landed, and the team loaded Dr. Costa on board. They grabbed Myles’ gear and weapon for the Secret Service guy, loaded up with Priest, Shaw, and Doc being last.
The Blackhawk took off and rose above the terminal. The area was all clear until they crested over the opposite side of the terminal building and saw a crowd of infected milling about. Some were trying to get in the building, while some were looking around for the noise. The crew chief started laying down fire with his mounted M134 Minigun.
“Good God almighty,” Shaw howled. “That bad boy is chewing the shit out of them.”
The mass of infected looked up as the rounds rained down. They all howled and screamed at the helicopter, reaching for those inside. The infected were climbing over top of each other to get to those that they needed to infect. They were met with a deluge of 5.56mm rounds which removed eyes, ears, jaws and sections of upturned heads. The rounds cut through the upturned faces and plowed through the torsos and legs of those standing behind them.
Usually people will run away from danger or certain death, but the infected didn’t even seem to care about the fact that they were dying by the tens and hundreds. It didn’t even register on any of their faces, but the team didn’t have time to contemplate the philosophy behind it all and focused on dismounting the chopper.
Priest keyed his comms. “Hover over the roof and we’ll unload there.” The pilot acknowledged and brought the Blackhawk to hover about 3-4 feet from the roof. The crew chief continued to spit rounds into the mass of infected, while all three jumped out and waved to the crew chief. With the acknowledgement, the crew chief spoke into his helmet’s mic and the bird ascended, rotated to the right, and took off on its way to Dearborn, Michigan.
In his gut, Doc felt a sinking feeling as he watched the Blackhawk fade from sight.
CHAPTER 10
The scene was something completely out of a horror movie as the blood flowed in little streams down the pavement. Pieces of flesh and indistinguishable body parts lay scattered the ground for hundreds of feet. The team could hear blood dripping and squishing sounds as the gore settled, sliding and sinking off of piles of destroyed bodies.
“Jesus Christ,” Shaw breathed. “I used to slaughter cows and pigs back on the farm, but I have seen nothing like this.”
Doc quipped, “I’ve seen my share of blood, guts and wounds as a medic. I’m with you as far as never seeing this much carnage before.” Priest said nothing. He just stood there staring at the unbelievable scene. Doc continued, “Damn, look at that. There’s a head over there that flew 20 feet. Look at all the guts laying over there. It’s like up to your calf. That’s some deep guts.”
The amount of body parts stacked up in front of the maintenance door was unbelievable, and it would take a while to remove all that meat. Not to mention, they would have to wade through all that blood, all the intestines and other bodily fluids to even get to the door.
“Damn Doc, shut up already,” Priest bellowed. “Ok, boys. Let’s get to it. See if there is a way, we could gain access to those people without having to go through that door.”
The team spread out and went in search of any alternate entry point. After a time, Shaw speaks up and calls over, “I think I might have found something.” Priest and Doc run over to Shaw who is standing at a roof access door.
“Well, that is a way in and it definitely looks viable. Let’s check it out.” Priest nodded.
Shaw checked the door which was locked. Shaw pulled a pry bar from his breach kit, wedged it between the door and the jam, and gave it a good shove with his massive bulk. The door creaked open and Shaw peered in with his mag light. The stairway was clear, so they made their way down with Shaw on point, Priest as clean up and Doc covering their six. They stopped twice when they heard something, but determined it was on the other side of the walls.
As they reached the bottom, they found themselves in a maintenance area. It was a fairly long corridor with pipes running down each side. Cable trays were hanging from the ceiling, which contained power and fiber optic cable. They could also see several doors along the hallway on their right with the store numbers on them. Shaw made a comment about the doors showing numbers only and not the business names.
Priest whispered, “Ok, we know which business they are in. We just need to find the actual location and suite number. We need to search this maintenance space for maps, a directory, anything that gives us a layout of this terminal.” They went a little further, and the space opened slightly to a desk and a workshop. As they made it to the desk, they heard screams and pounding, followed by another’s screams.
“Shit, they must still find non-infected,” Shaw said. Priest nodded concurrence. After a quick search, they found some building drawings and schematics. Since Ruth Chris’s was one of the cornerstone businesses meant for this terminal in the planning stages, it was listed by name on the drawings.
“Ok, it looks like Ruth Chris’s is 120A-G. Doc, where are we now?”
Doc walked down to the closest door and came back. “Continuing forward will take us to increasing suite numbers. The closest door is Suite 88.”
“Shit, well I guess it could be worse and we could be standing at number one. Ok, let’s move out swift but silent.” The walk down to Suite 120 was uneventful except for the occasional scream, growl, or sounds of groups running back and forth. They finally reached the door for Suite 120A. “Ok, let’s do a little recon and see what we are dealing with.”
Shaw reached for the door and turned the handle, discovering it was unlocked. He pulled the handle, cracked the door open enough to peer through. His eyes go wide as he took in the dramatic scene. He was in the steakhouse’s rear, looking toward the dining room, and from his vantage point the carnage was clear. A multitude of bodies in various states of butchery lay strewn along the restaurant floor. Chairs were on their backs, tables laid toppled over, and they had smeared blood all over countless table cloths.
Uneaten food scattered the floor of the restaurant, pools of blood and various bloody drag marks. The restaurant appeared empty, so Shaw motioned the Team forward. They made their way through the restaurant to the wall separating it from the terminal corridor. Shaw peered around the wall to scout out possible next movement and viewed body parts strew across the entire field of view. Legs, arms, heads, and pieces that were not recognizable were lying in pools of blood. Tangled intestines were stretched down the passageway and wrapped around benches and poles, definitely done on purpose.
Shaw pulled his head back. “Man, these are some sick fuckers. It looks like they were playing with the in
nards, like it’s a game or something.”
Out of nowhere, there were various screams, laughs, yells, and shrieking. The team jumped at the noise.
“Shit,” Doc said under his breath. They then heard running coming their way down the adjacent corridor. They looked out to see a group of people running with a pack of the infected right on their heels. There was a man in the back who looked to be a traveling businessman. His apparent constant snaking, restaurant eating and lack of exercise had eventually caught up with him as he was much slower than the rest of the people running and had fallen behind. He was breathing heavily and finally his legs gave out as the pack jumped on him. The man let out a blood-curdling scream as several of the infected took bites out of his body. The infected bit chunks of flesh and meat from his face, neck, arms, legs and blood was everywhere.
They quickly jumped off him and were running for the rest of the group. We left the businessman where he lay while blood continued to pump out of his massive wounds and pool around him. His breathing became shallow, challenging, and was coming at a quick pace. He moaned one last time and finally stopped breathing.
“Holy shit,” whispered Priest. “This is some fucked up shit.”
Doc was about to respond with something, but heard something that stopped him. Breathing, moaning, and the squeak of shoes on a wet floor. They looked back to the businessman and watched him get up, staring around like he wasn’t sure where he was. He heard the screaming coming from down the hallway and took off after the sounds. “What the fuck,” Doc whispered. “We now have confirmation as we did with Myles on how quickly this virus takes over.”
“Yeah, too fucking quick,” Priest replied. “Ok, let’s find these two civilians and get the hell out of here. They should be in the restaurant’s walk-in fridge, in the kitchen, I am assuming. We find the kitchen, then we find the walk-in fridge.” Priest whispered.
They made their way toward the rear of the restaurant and right in front of Shaw were the double doors leading to the kitchen. Priest and Doc posted up on each side of the opening, then Shaw slowly opened the door. Without warning, a figure busted its way through the door, knocking Shaw back on his ass. The figure landed on top of him and began trying to bite his face. Shaw recovered quickly enough to fend off the infected. Just as Shaw got his hand around the man’s neck, the figure stopped fighting and slumped over to his right. He saw Priest standing there with his combat knife dripping with blood and what seemed to look like brain matter.
Doc offered his hand and helped Shaw back up.
“Damn,” Shaw whispered. “If that had been a female, she would have reminded me of my old girlfriend back in Alabama.”
Priest motioned for them to be quiet by putting his index finger to his lips, ”Hopefully, they didn’t hear that,” he whispered. They all stopped to listen to see if the infected were coming back and heard nothing. Priest motioned them into the kitchen. It was an enormous kitchen with a prep area to the right and order pick up counter directly ahead. Behind the counter was a grill that still had steaks on it that were on fire and looking like charcoal. All three looked at the ruined steaks and shook their heads. Damn shame, all that beef wasted was the look they gave each other. Doc pointed to a hallway to the left of the grill, which they all followed with Priest on point. The hall led back to another room, and against the back wall was the door for the walk-in.
Priest continued on and found a light switch next to the door. There was also a 12 x 12 window in the walk-in fridge’s door. Priest flicked on the light and peered in. He immediately saw a young woman who met his eyes, began screaming and backing away from the door. Luckily for them, she couldn’t be heard through the door. Doc shoved his head in the window to see what was going on and smiled at her, which elevated her hysteria.
Priest thought she would pass out. “Breathe, lady, breathe.” He knew he had to get her calmed down before he opened that door, or every infected in the whole terminal would hear her screaming. An older man came next to her and tried to calm her down, while Priest attempted to make hand motions to let her know things were ok. He then put his finger to his lips for her to be quiet. When she had calmed down some, and he opened the door. He put his arm in first with his palm down and moved it up and down, motioning that it was ok, calm down. He finally got his face in the door and spoke to both of them.
“It’s ok, we are here to get you out. Shhh, everything is all right, but we need to move and move now to get out of this place safely. Are you both ok to move? Can you walk?” Both nodded. Priest kneels and looks at the woman. “I’m MSGT Alec Priest and I believe you were talking to our Commander, Captain Webb?”
“Yes, I was. I am Allison Reeves. I am a reporter for a local news station, and this is Doug Harris. He is the pilot of our Channel 4 news helicopter.” Priest shakes both of their hands.
“This is SGT Joseph Mancini or Doc as we call him, and that big son of a bitch over there,” Priest throws his thumb over his shoulder, “is SSGT Jeremiah Shaw.”
“Ma’am,” Shaw dipped his head toward Allison
“So, Doug, is your helicopter somewhere here on the airport?”
“Yes, it is,” Doug replies.
“Is it functional?”
“It is, or it was when I left it last.”
“Ok, how many does it seat?”
Doug looked down at the floor, and somberly said, “four.”
“It seats four, but is it powerful enough to take the weight of five?” Priest asks.
“Well, yes, it can easily handle that much weight. You know, it has some equipment we could dump to lighten the load if we had the time.”
“Hmm, ok.” “Where is it located?”
“It is on the flight line at the east end of this terminal.”
Priest said, “Ok boys, we are bailing out the same way we came in. Doc, you take point and lead the two civilians down the hall and up the stairs to the roof where we will regroup. Shaw and I will cover your six and follow. Everyone clear?” They all nodded. “Ok, let’s roll.”
With Doc in the lead, next Allison, Priest, Doug, and finally Shaw guarding their rear, they stop at the kitchen door to listen for movement. They heard nothing, so Doc slowly opened the door, stepped out into the restaurant and headed for the maintenance door. He then motioned for the rest to follow his lead.
They made it halfway to the maintenance door when Priest catches movement out of his peripheral vision. He turns to see the businessman is standing there. His head was tilting from left to right and making a clicking noise. Click, click, click-click. “I see some who need the poison. The wonderful poison to be like me, like us… Click click, click.” He then breaks into a run for the group.
“Move! Doc, get them to the door,” Priest bellows. Doc makes a run for the maintenance door, with Allison and Doug right behind him. Priest squares up to fight businessman as to not draw attention to their location by using his rifle.
Businessman is about 15 feet away when Shaw shoots out toward him. Shaw connects and delivers the most devastating clothesline Priest has ever seen. All 275 pounds of Shaw lunges with his arm like a hook, connects with Businessman’s neck and hits with such force; it breaks Businessman’s neck and flips him head over heels to leave him in a quivering mass of flesh and broken bones.
“Fuck me!” Priest utters in amazement as Shaw runs back to him. “Remind me to never piss you off.” They chuckle as they sprint to the maintenance door. As they make it through, Priest yells at Shaw, “Make that door in-op?”
“Copy.” Shaw grabs a large screwdriver and a hammer off the workbench near the door. He wedges the screwdriver in the metal frame behind the door and hit it with the hammer which lodges the screwdriver in the frame. As he turns to run, he hears banging and scr
eaming on the other side of the door. He yells, “They are at the door. Move!” The rest of the group had already reached the roof as Shaw bursts out of the door meets up with the group.
They kneel there for a few minutes to catch their breath. Priest looks around to everyone there, “Everybody all right? Anyone hurt?” All of them shake their heads. Except for being scared to death and a little winded, they seemed to be okay. He looks around the roof, thinking of their next steps.
Priest explains, “Ok, we run across the roof to the easternmost point, where Shaw and myself will escort Doug to his chopper. We will pull security while he gets it running, while Doc and Allison stay up on the roof until we are ready to take off. Everyone clear?” They all nod. “Ok, let’s move!”
CHAPTER 11
The hum of the engine, along with the rocking motion of the rotors, lulled a few of the team to sleep. Webb was awake because he had too much responsibility on his hands, too much going on in his head. He conducted a quick scan around to see Dr. Costa dozing, along with Bolin, but Kennedy was awake. He gave Webb a nod.
Abarra was nodding off. “Thank God,” Webb thought. They hadn’t had time to process the loss of Myles, except Abarra. He was close to Myles and took him under his wing to educate and train him as best he could. Myles was making progress and was turning into a damn fine soldier. Abarra had taken Myles’s death hard and took responsibility for his death, even though it was not his to take.
It had been Webb who gave the order to perform surveillance, not Abarra. Webb felt guilty but didn’t feel the brunt of the blame as Abarra did. Myles had gotten himself killed. He was sloppy, although this is something Webb would never articulate out loud. He figured Doc was probably feeling some of that guilt, so there was enough to go around.
Gratefully, Abarra had calmed his mind enough to get some rest. Abarra was a powerful man, an excellent soldier, and an excellent friend. He was one who could be hard on you but always cared for his team and didn’t have a problem shedding a tear for a fallen brother.