Thanks to their quick thinking, most of the men survived.
Beasley quickly turned the base of fire into a defensive position, placing three machine guns to cover all angles towards the runway. Matheson organized the men into supporting positions if things got too heavy.
He also sent three squads back to the trucks to pick up more ammunition and organized a group of soldiers into a makeshift platoon, which was ordered to circle wide, and provide assistance to the survivors of fire team one.
It quickly turned into a turkey shoot for the hundred or so men at the improvised defensive position. They only had two hairy moments. The first one occurred when a solid mass of at least a hundred undead lumbered into view. It provided a real pressure test for the men facing them. The second one was when several zombies appeared seemingly out of nowhere from behind the position. Only three men were lost. One to a malfunctioning weapon, one to friendly fire, and one to the undead.
Oh. and a fourth... A suicide. Ben corrected himself, thinking of Matheson.
The other platoon wasn’t as lucky. Ben would know. He was in it.
Their group of thirty soldiers were placed under the leadership of First Lieutenant Harris. Harris had the men swing to the fence line as ordered. They had put some distance between themselves and the airport buildings.
But the problems started almost immediately.
They had barely got out of sight of fire team two when the first group of zombies spotted them and made a beeline to intercept. The guys in front quickly leveled their weapons and took out the half dozen undead with well-placed head shots.
Going weapons live had one considerable drawback – the noise. From that moment on, it was a running battle. What was worse, the platoon was quickly cut off at all angles. Retreat was no longer an option. The strain of only making a kill with a headshot was starting to tell too, as more shots were missing their mark.
The one thing that the soldiers had going for them was that they were attuned to killing. They did not see the guy in the business suit, the little girl with the ponytails, the stewardess, the wife, husband, grandmother... They saw targets only.
What was still a shock to many of the men, was to see a target get shot in what would ordinarily be a fatal spot – to see bone and blood and viscera flying – and then to see that target keep coming at you.
The closer they got; the more shots were being missed by nervous trigger fingers. The team was nearly overwhelmed at one point and only a snap decision to switch to handguns saved them. Even then, a couple of guys took knocks and one soldier was accidentally shot in the shoulder. Sending the wounded man back should not have been an option.
Yet Harris insisted. He positioned a defensive cordon, then called Staff Sergeant Riley over. Ben was close enough to overhear the conversation.
“Riley, I need to take these three men back. I’m taking a squad to protect the wounded.”
Riley looked confused. Ben could see the wheels turning for the man. Ben could also see the look on Harris’ face.
The man was scared. He’d lost his nerve.
There are unspoken axioms in the military. One of them is that nothing is worse than incompetent or panicked leadership. It’s true. It tends to get people killed.
There had been cases where soldiers had covertly taken out bad leaders, for the greater good.
Riley must have realized that Harris was flustered.
“Of course, sir.” He replied.
Harris flinched slightly, having expected more resistance. A volley of gunfire made him flinch a second time.
“Um ... Yeah, very well. Good. ... I’ll ask Matheson for reinforcements when we get back. We will come after you.” The lie would have been apparent to a four-year old.
The platoon concentrated their fire to the north, clearing a gap in the direction of fire team two, and Harris was off with six men and the wounded, shearing off a third of their manpower.
From that moment, Riley split the remaining men into squads and started exercising ‘Bounding Overwatch’.
This meant that the squads moved in a leapfrog type maneuver. One squad covering while another moved. It worked smoothly until the fence they were following cut inwards towards a set of hangars and buildings.
The team had to change tactics at that point and prepare for close combat once more. Riley called the men in.
“Sing, take point. You, you three, and you – form a staggered line behind Sing. Garcia you got rear guard – pick five men. The rest of you with me. Stay frosty – we’re almost there.”
They were getting close to the other fire team. Just a few hundred yards past these buildings and up the main airport road remained between them and their objective.
It might as well have been on the moon...
As soon as the team entered the accessway between two hangers, the men on point started engaging the enemy. Within twenty yards, their rear guard also started engaging. They made it past the first buildings with no serious incident but frayed nerves. Riley swapped out the men on rearguard and point, and the team moved forward again.
Things went wrong as they progressed past a large hangar. Ben was positioned with the rear guard but suddenly heard yelling and screaming up front. He turned and saw that the guys on point had been overwhelmed. They had been engaged with what was in front of them when they moved past the open hangar door and got flanked by a large group of undead that had somehow ended up in the hangar.
Zombies rushed the men as they passed the opening. Ben saw a zombie leap, taking two men down. Others similarly tackled their prey by lunging, while most simply stumbled into the soldiers.
Riley’s men rushed forward to help. A couple of them ran up to try to pull their men to safety, and several others raised their weapons but were finding it hard to find a clean shot.
The zombies were ferocious. Ben could see them dog-pile on top of his struggling comrades. He could see the rising and dropping of fists as they were being slammed into victims and co-aggressors. He saw a zombie dart in with his mouth wide open, ready to bite down on a victim.
The next thing Ben knew, he had left his position at the rear guard, pulled out his side arm, and sprinted to the battle. He slipped past his own men and waded into the battle.
He shot a zombie point blank when it lunged at him. He dodged the falling body and stepped over to the first pile. He pulled a head back by the hair and shot it through the temple, aiming sideways so that he wouldn’t hit his own man. He kicked another zombie off the pile and shot it. He felt a hand on his leg, spun away and shot the face of the zombie that tried to bite him.
Without hesitation, he pulled another zombie off a soldier with a vicious yank on to the collar of its jacket, raised his gun to shoot another zombie that was about to lunge at him, and in one motion lower the gun to shoot the one at his feet.
He then moved on to the next pile.
The soldiers around him saw what he was doing and took the same approach. Within a minute the immediate area was clear of zombies.
Riley ordered all the men into the now empty hangar. He set up a few men to guard at the door and had the rest of his men assess the wounded. Only one man was dead, but eight more were wounded – two of which seriously.
Riley was considering how to proceed. He called Garcia and Sing over to discuss options.
“Sorry to tell you sir but this is serious Charlie Foxtrot.” Garcia offered.
“I need something constructive, soldier. Stop dicking around!” Riley snarled. Garcia had the good grace to look embarrassed.
Riley showed no hesitation in delivering fang. Ben had to respect that.
“We got eight men injured sir.” Sing spoke up. “One is expectant...” He continued in a lower voice, indicating one man was not expected to live. “Four of the other seven are broke dick.”
Riley thought for a moment. He looked around the hangar. Then he saw the metal staircase leading up to what looked like an office and nodded.
“Ok. Here’s
what we do.” He turned to Sing. “Sing, go secure that office up there. Looks like that door is the only access, so we should be able to defend it easily.”
Sing swung the M4 off his shoulder and advanced on the office. He signalled the all clear to Riley when he stepped back out. Riley waited for Sing to return before speaking again.
“So, option one is we stick the wounded in the office over there, leave a couple of men with them, and the rest of us continue. Do we have comms?”
Garcia beckoned their signalman to come over.
“Sir, all I’m getting is chatter. The main force is continuing to draw the enemy to their location and holding position but are not able to advance. I was able to pick up some chatter from fire team one also. It sounds like there are about ten of them and they’re trapped in the vehicles. Their situation is deteriorating.”
“Ok that does it. We’ve got to go get those boys.” Riley stated. The staff sergeant had already shown that he could think on his feet.
Ben liked him.
“Sing, pick a man to stay here with you and the wounded. Close this place up as soon as we’re gone.” Sing nodded and turned away.
Riley faced Garcia and grinned at him, letting the young man know all was forgiven. “Looks like you and me will get to save the day, Garcia.”
“Hooah!” Garcia responded as they turned to their men.
A quick weapons check revealed that most men still had a minimum of two full mags. Riley told the men to swap out and that they would roll in thirty seconds.
Sing and his man stationed themselves at the door and sniped a few shots, while the eight-man team stacked up on Riley.
“We go fast but controlled. Four rows of two. Traditional Fire and Movement – just like we always practice. This is our fall-back position. You ready?”
“Hooah!” The team responded enthusiastically. They moved out on his signal.
They got to the far edge of the hangar when they made first contact. They moved in sync with each other, calling out contacts and positions. These were all onesies and twosies, so relatively easy to take down.
Soon enough, they got to the road leading out of the airport. Riley checked the corner and confirmed that they were in visual range of the LAVs.
Riley got the men into two staggered lines of four, and the team stepped out onto the broad road.
The team worked their way forward about twenty yards. The zombie presence in the area was significantly higher here. They started progressing up a slight incline in the road. Ben looked down and saw a flood of blood swirling past his boots and down the road beyond him. The first thirty yards in front of him was covered in blood, body parts and guts. The M2’s had literally shredded hundreds of the undead. The gore lay in front of them, in some places several feet high.
The area beyond that was still swarming with dozens of zombies. They were relentlessly beating on the Humvees and LAVs, wanting to get at the living people inside. Ben watched as one beat his fist against the side of an LAV, not comprehending that its wrist had broken. Its hand was flapping ineffectually as it kept slamming its half-attached hand into the armor plating violently.
Ben knew he wasn’t the only soldier stunned by the scene in front of him. Riley snapped the team out of it by telling them to stay sharp and change mags if needed.
The normality of swapping out mags got the team’s feet back on solid ground.
“Watch for any movement. Slow and steady. Let’s go get our guys.” The team started moving.
They stepped into the gore at their feet. The mass of body parts seemed to ripple, as badly damaged zombies clawed and crawled their way to the men. The soldiers had only advanced a few feet when the mass of zombies at the vehicles turned to face them.
“They’re coming!” Somebody yelled. Ben remembered looking up and being surprised at the number of zombies storming back down the ramp towards their position. It was instantly clear that there were too many of them.
“Fall back!” Riley turned and pointed as he pushed his men ahead of him. All of the men, Ben included, complied without thinking. They were nearly at the alleyway between the first two hangars when they heard shooting behind them.
Riley was covering their retreat. He kept shooting and stepping backwards.
“Set up a killing field!” He yelled over his shoulder as he ejected an empty mag and slapped a new one in place. The first loping zombie was fifteen yards away.
Garcia got the men into position about ten feet into the alleyway. He got them set up in a loose ‘V’ formation, creating what was called an area of concentration.
“All set sir! Fall back to our position!” He yelled. But gunfire overpowered his voice. They could see Riley going full auto just as the first of the zombies got within five feet of him.
“He’s not going to make it.” Somebody said off to Ben’s left. Ben didn’t hesitate. He ran.
“BROWN! BEN!” He heard Garcia yell after him, but he had already committed. He was out of the alley and closing in on Riley just as the Sergeant’s rifle clicked empty.
It all happened so fast. It was only now, when he was remembering those moments, that the events clicked into place for Ben.
Ben reached Sergeant Riley’s side and bought him a second with some well-placed shots to the heads of the nearest zombies. Riley hardly registered Ben’s presence as he pulled his sidearm and started shooting. Ben knew they were in the line of fire so lined up beside Riley and tugged Riley back with him. The two men backed up beyond the alley entrance.
As soon as they were clear, Garcia and the men opened fire. Then the main body of zombies hit. They surged past the alley and covered Riley and Ben in a wave of bodies.
Ben thought he heard Garcia yelling out his name one more time, but he wasn’t sure. He had fallen straight onto his back. All at once he was crushed under the weight of several bodies. His helmet had slipped over his eyes and he could not see.
But he felt things.
He felt hands beating at his helmet, felt clawing at his thigh, felt teeth bite down on his shin. Ben was able to free an arm and pull his sidearm. He shot, aimlessly, at the mass of bodies on him. A body slammed into the pile on top of him, he could feel the impact and his back cracked. He yelled.
Then he felt the weight of one body lifted off him. Then the clawing at this thigh stopped. Then he felt a hand grab his shoulder strap and pull him out from underneath the bodies.
It was Riley. He had pulled Ben out from that pile and dragged him several feet back. Ben would never know how Riley had been able to save him. Ben crab walked back another couple of feet. There was a literal pile of bodies in front of him. The zombie mass in front of him was distracted by Garcia and his men now, giving him a moment of respite.
He looked over to Riley, but the Staff Sergeant was already dead. A quick look told Ben that Riley had suffered major leg trauma, a compound fracture. The jagged shard of a broken femur stuck out of the back of his thigh.
It had severed the femoral artery.
Riley had bled out in a matter of seconds. Yet somehow, he had rescued Ben, and pulled him out from under that pile of zombies.
Garcia and his men continued to shoot into their kill zone, drawing the zombies towards their position. Just then Ben could hear several vehicles start up, and he could make out the top of the LAV as it maneuvered down the road. The remnants of fire team one had regrouped and were coming down to support Garcia and his men.
BROWN HAD NOT MEANT to scamper away at that point. But he did. He somehow avoided running into any more zombies and found a place to hide.
After the initial assault was over, the soldiers cleared all the buildings. It wasn’t too hard, since almost all zombies had either been outside already or had come outside, drawn by the noise.
Brown managed to avoid detection.
He later watched as the trucks rolled in, the remaining soldiers mounted up, and the convoy left. He was sure that he saw Garcia in amongst the soldiers.
I hope you
rest in peace. You’ve earned it. Ben silently said goodbye to his brother in arms. He never saw Johansson. Ben considered what he would say to the soldier at that moment.
I heard what you said without saying it, Johansson. You want to leave this place. You want to go find your wife and kids. I hope you do. Though you may be dismayed by what you find...
Ben came back to the present with a shudder.
He was filled with regret and guilt. Conflicting thoughts ran through his mind.
You’re an Optio, Benjamin. Level four of the Rosae Crucis. You had a mission. You executed as commanded by Paladin Kevin Wallace, who is second only to Brenin himself.
Also, your mission is not complete. So, stop wasting time.
Brown’s expression grew resolute. He looked around at the equipment and gear he’d gathered over the last couple of days.
He had his orders.
Time to pack up. Time to move out.
END
About the Author
Marco de Hoogh was born in The Netherlands, youngest son of Gerard de Hoogh; published author of 17 books, and Truus Sierat; artist and most wonderful person in the world. Yes, Marco is a mama's boy. Marco moved to Canada when he was twelve, and calls Calgary his home.
Apocalypsis Immortuos | Book 1 | Syndrome Page 44