by Byrd, Daniel
Loft was tapping his finger on the desk. The situation was ever-evolving. He wasn’t even listening to Houseman.
“Sir, if we don’t hear from him, then what? The contingency plan was to return home, but that will cause a lot of issues with the Germans.”
“At this point, Houseman, I don’t care about cutting threads. If this situation develops anymore beyond the scope it’s already reached, then you’re to return home with our troops. We bunker down, and we survive.”
“I’ve already heard reports of more widespread rioting in the Philadelphia Haven.”
“I returned to Seattle before it got worse, but you’re right. Fortunately it’s being stamped out before any incident blows out of proportion.”
“Have you met with the others?”
“The Joints Chiefs of Staff are all aware of the declaration. The Congressional members that are here all voted in favor. It wasn’t much of a dispute. This is a war.”
“So we’re free to plan and engage at will?”
“That’s correct. It’s not even a question that the World to Come are a clear and present danger to our country’s well-being, so any actions you deem necessary to take are approved.”
“I appreciate it, sir. We will continue to monitor the situation and act accordingly.”
“I expect nothing less, Houseman. Good luck.” Loft set the phone back on the receiver and swore. Hamilton was all they had to strike back, and it was beginning to look more and more like that plan was falling through. He paced around the room, stomach riddled with anxiety and mind grasped by every worse-case scenario it could conjure. What if Hamilton had joined their side? What if he was expelling the weaknesses of the Havens to them? What if he knew? Houseman did say that he was resourceful, so it was possible he'd discovered the full extent of the operation. Loft had to sit down and take some deep breaths to calm down. Overthinking everything wasn't going to help. Still, world powers were toppling every minute. The English Parliament had been evacuated to an aircraft carrier offshore from the U.K., and Japan had reported their first incidence of an undead individual. It was only a matter of time before the world was engulfed by the plague, and the only hope rested on the shoulders of a man who probably wasn't even on their side anymore for all Loft knew.
Moments later he was standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom down the hall, water over his face to cool off the heat rushing to it with each heart-wrenching thought. The souls of millions weighed upon his conscience. This was all supposed to be his dream to usher in stability to the world, and now it was a nightmare that blanketed the globe in carnage and despair. Still, the blame was on Hamilton and the World to Come; where it needed to be.
“And soon, all of that will be gone,” Loft told his reflection. “All I have to do is bide my time and survive here with the rest of the people, and in the end I'll be the man who led this country through the end of the world.”
Chapter Twenty-Four - Einmarsch
The midnight hour was upon Ramstein. Ethan Stevens gawked at the German Transportpanzer that made its way across the runway to be stationed far from the field, but close enough to dispatch troops if necessary. Its headlights shined like two beacons far from him, along with the rest of the lights across the airfield, from vehicles to the lighting for the landing strips. He'd have loved to have driven an armored personnel carrier, but unfortunately for him that was never a part of his training. Instead he was stuck doing basic patrols around the strip to ease up the pressure on the native service members. Why he’d been picked for this operation instead of being left home to watch over the Seattle Haven was over his head, but luck was never on his side. He's big question was why the hell he was on patrol instead of telling someone else to do it? It was almost like standing by the strip near Nevada again. Maybe that's why he was selected? No, it's not like they looked for “watches planes carefully” on his background. All he knew was that everyone on base was taking the threat of an attack from the World to Come very seriously.
Even with the lights of the airstrip it was still eerie out in the open. Only one squadron was up at the moment, and most of the other pilots were on standby in case something happened close by. The only exception were any helicopter teams that were flying overhead with spotlights in the night. This place had effectively become a prison, but Ethan knew it was better than being in some other countries at the moment. He sighed and checked his watch. Only five minutes left until someone else relieved him. Other American troops were out performing the same task as him, but anything farther out from the base had vehicle patrols to ensure the military covered as much ground as possible. Ethan found it odd still; no one had attacked any of the German bases yet, and no one could be dumb enough to try. The only way the undead would prove a problem is if enough of them originated from somewhere else. Then he remembered Austin, and his comforting thoughts were replaced with the grim news from three months prior. That stacked onto the bombing runs, and soon he was overthinking to the point that he hadn't realized his relief hadn't arrived yet. That was an issue. He was used to things like this never working out on time, so he waited five…ten…fifteen…twenty more minutes. That was long enough, so he decided to head inside and check on what was taking so long. To his disappointment he was informed by Captain Benjamin Steffa that it would be another ten minutes, as they were having a difficult time finding a replacement for his relief who had taken ill and had to be placed in medical care.
“What’s he sick with?” Ethan asked his superior. Steffa tossed down the book he was trying to read and sighed.
“Same as others transported to Landstuhl,” he informed Ethan in his thick southern accent marred with years of smoking, “strep throat. I wouldn't worry about claiming he could be faking. He had a horrible fever before he was sent. Figures a schoolyard disease would be our problem right now when we’re combating another, eh?”
Ethan crossed his arms and swore. There was enough personnel on the base that this shouldn't be a problem to begin with. “What about the contracted security?”
“General Houseman and General Doe both had them dismissed prior to the arrival of our forces to make room in the barracks. Between that and the hotel in the newer community area we managed to pack quite a few troops from the Army and Marines in.”
“Yet no one can take over my patrol? With all due respect, sir, it's been twelve hours. I'm an officer. Why am I doing this?”
“I'm aware of that. I'll get someone out there ASAP. In the meantime, you've got a job to do.”
Captain Steffa was a good leader, and he never tried to screw his men over. Ethan trusted him to know he wasn’t just giving him any bullshit, so he kept his comment to himself and nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Now if you’ll excuse me, private, I’m almost finished with this.” Steffa opened the book to where his thumb was and continued reading. Ethan wasn’t sure why his captain was reading Dracula.
“Fan of the classics, sir?” Steffa eyed him before flipping the book back to the cover.
“What, this? I snatched it off of an insubordinate ass who was dodging his patrol yesterday. If it kills time, it kills time.” He waved the book at Ethan. “It’s a good thing to read once in a while, you know?”
“With all due respect, sir, you’re not my high school English teacher.”
“You’re right. I’m your superior.” Steffa leaned back in his chair and cracked the book open once more. “Now, get back to your patrol.”
Defeated, Ethan left the room and marched down the hallway in disappointment. He wasn't even mad that he was still stuck on duty, but rather it was the fact that this was a joint operation being run from this base which meant that there were other force members to pull from. He stepped out into the night air and took a deep breath before heading back to his patrol. The sound of rotors beating through the air overhead didn't come as a surprise to him, but what did seem off was seeing other soldiers pointing up into the night. Ethan stopped walking and turned around in time to see the
helicopter spinning past barely fifty feet above him before it impacted the ground next to the runway in a cloud of metal and earth. The wreckage tore through the ground for yards as the rotors continued spinning, tossing dirt through the air until they broke apart and sailed off throughout the airfield. At first, Ethan was locked in place by shock, but he managed to push that feeling to the back of his mind and rushed to the scene. The chopper wasn't an American variant that he recognized, so he assumed it belonged to the Germans. Cries of pain were amplified by the cold air, which only slowed Ethan’s race as others were converging on the wreckage from different directions. Some were much closer to help, but heroism only proved their downfall as an explosion of flame and shrapnel replaced the sight before them all. The helicopter vanished in fire and smoke billowing into the darkness above as the fuel continued to burn the wreckage. Ethan halted in his advance with an arm covering his face; a futile attempt to protect himself from the extreme heat. Beyond the flames he noticed a figure taking shape. It was hard to make out with his view, but there was definitely someone still moving in the mess. Ethan kept his arm out as he crept closer, hunched down and eyes squinted. The figure emerged from the blaze in slow steps, engulfed in the raging inferno. The shape of a helmet revealed the identity of the figure to Ethan. It was the pilot of the chopper, somehow on his feet and walking from the pyro. It was the most terrifying sight Ethan had ever seen. There was no screaming in pain and no flailing about. The burning man just stumbled his way towards Ethan, fire dancing on his form. Ethan began to back away, right hand on the grip of his carbine while the other was still serving as a heat shield. The burning figure stretched its hands out and hobbled faster towards him.
“Stay back!” Ethan hurried away while still facing the doomed man. “Stay back!”
It was terrifying, being stalked by a walking inferno. His suit must have had fuel on it to be burning that much, and as he got closer Ethan could feel the intense heat. The visor of the helmet had melted away, and blackened skin and muscle was exposed and sticking to the suit as a hand enveloped in the raging fire reached out for him. Ethan couldn’t bring himself to shoot the helpless man, but death was standing before him, burning like a beacon instead of cold like all of those stupid stories back in high school textbooks. The man made sounds, but they were incomprehensible from his roasted lungs. The smell of burning flesh violated Ethan’s nostrils, and the sight was too much. He squeezed the trigger and released almost immediately after. Four bullets struck the man in his chest, and after a period of fighting to regain balance he dropped to the ground, burning away in death. Ethan hopped back a few feet, breathing heavily as he studied the body. He was fucked. He’d just killed a crash victim.
While he contemplated how this was going to jeopardize his military career, the body placed hands on each side of itself before pushing itself up. At that point others had arrived on the scene in time to bear witness to the horror as the dead man rose to his feet, flames and smoke still spewing forth from his melting body. Collective swears and exclamations of shock filled the gathered troops as the victim began to approach Ethan again, but he had an entire firing squad this time to back him up as he emptied a magazine into the being. Between the flames and the bullet wounds the body finally gave way and collapsed to the ground once more. The head continued to rock for a bit, but that ended when an American Marine stepped forward and fired one shot through the side of the skull.
The echoing gunshot and roaring flames drowned in the blaring noise of the civil defense alarm that had been activated, which whined across the night. No one questioned what had just happened. They all understood what it meant; the threat was real.
***
Major Hampton stood idly by as Houseman and Doe yelled at one another. Their words cut deep into one another as the rest of the command center witnessed the titans of rank clash over the security measures for the base. That was when the building shook, and one of the airmen off to the side stood up with a hand to his headset.
“General Doe! A helicopter just crashed on the airfield!”
Doe put off his argument with Houseman and addressed the news. “What happened?!”
“Tower says the pilot reported feeling sick. He’d just requested permission to land, and following that his radio went silent. He circled the helipad twice before tower reported a loss of control and impact.”
Doe swore and stomped in the man’s direction. “Who was it?!”
“German Air Force, sir! NH90!”
“Casualties?!”
The airmen kept his hand on his headset for several seconds. Unfortunately for him, Doe’s patience hadn't been with him in months.
“Casualties?!”
“The entire crew, sir! One emerged from the wreckage and was put down when he exhibited signs of infection, sir!”
Doe bit his lip and turned away from the man. His eyes met Houseman, who was currently discussing something with Major Hampton. Hampton was white in the face, which even Doe knew he only turned when he was on a flight. He approached the duo with the worst-case scenario already in mind. “Well?” Houseman didn't need to say a word. Hampton looked like he was going to be sick, and Houseman himself looked beyond pissed with the world. Doe grunted a string of profanity to himself as he turned his attention to his airmen who were all busy playing chaos control with just one issue tonight.
“S-scramble…scramble all jets! We have…they’re…we have confirmation!” The next words stung to admit, and strained to come out through his stuttering that was triggered. “The undead…the…the undead are here in Ramstein.”
***
Ethan hurried inside of the compound in search of Captain Steffa. Walking directly to where he was sitting at the desk barely ten minutes before, he found him coming from the opposite direction, and they both stopped upon seeing one another. Ethan was in too much of a panic to bother with formalities.
“Captain!”
“Stevens! What the hell happened out there?!”
Ethan caught his breath. “Deadmen, Captain! They’re here, on base!”
Captain Steffa swore and made his way past Ethan, heading outside where the emergency responders were currently working to put out the fire on the wrecked helicopter next to the far runway. Ethan and Steffa looked on as a roaring sound came from down the other strip, and saw a fighter jet taxiing onto the tarmac to take off.
“What do we do, sir?”
Steffa grabbed his radio. “I’m going to contact Major Hampton and figure out just what the hell is going on. In the meantime, I want you to radio the others. We need to group up for orders.”
Ethan nodded. “Understood!”
“Be prepared for anything, Stevens.”
Ethan heard him clearly, but his mind wasn't properly grasping what any of it meant. He didn't have to deal with the undead personally back home, but now he was here, on the front lines. Ethan set off to gather the others.
***
Houseman was busy playing damage control in the command room with everyone else when Hampton received word from one of the officers on call.
“Captain Steffa, I want you and your soldiers ready to take on a difficult task at a moment’s notice. We have others ensuring the way is clear, but it seems the undead are only localized in the housing areas at the moment.”
“Yes, sir. What would you have us do?”
“Standby. We have enough troops on the ground as is. Any more and we’ll no doubt have friendly fire to contend with. Form a small company of sixty soldiers or a little more while you have the time.”
“Understood, sir. Captain Steffa, out.”
Hampton handed the radio back to his subordinate and looked out over the control room. It was hell in here. Orders were firing around like pinballs, and Houseman looked ready to strangle the next person who gave him even an inkling of more bad news. Still, he was functioning with a sane enough mind to order armored vehicles to the civilian areas with troops ready to deploy and neutralize any threat. German all
ies followed in tow to help with crowd control by going door to door and ensuring the safety of the military families on base. The civil defense alarm was already blaring across the base, and while the previous address from officials mentioned staying indoors while an emergency was transpiring, Hampton knew that wasn't always a guarantee. The truth was that he was hoping they didn't have to resort to a “shoot anyone outside and not in uniform” plan.
“Major!”
Hampton jumped at the General of the Army’s curt tone. Houseman was standing not too far away, waiting for his attention. Hampton snapped to a salute, but Houseman just scowled.
“I need people for a special task.”
“I just so happen to have some on standby, sir.” Hampton didn't like the face Houseman gave him. It was something reminiscent of a grin, but it looked more like he was glad to have something off of his plate.
“Good. Have them prepped for biological warfare.”
Hampton blinked. “Sir?”
“You heard me, Major,” Houseman said sternly, “I want people ready to handle a hazardous environment. Suits, gas masks, all of it.”
Hampton went a bit out of line in his questioning. “What for?”
“Major, I gave you an order! You have your people ready to leave in ten minutes, and don't question me again! We've had numerous reports of individuals leaving the Landstuhl Regional Medical Center south of here and attacking anyone in sight! German forces are working with our own to maintain order, but with the area outside of the base security, we have no one to go in and find out just what the hell is going on! Right now we have the hospital under quarantine!” Houseman eyed General Doe who was across the room briefing two other men. “Arnold Martin opted to just blow the damn thing up before it becomes a nest of deadmen, but General Doe insists that the building is too much of an asset to lose, so we have to spare some of our forces!” General Doe gave him a slight hint of attention before frowning and going back to discussing something with his subordinates. “I need people to go inside, execute anyone infected, and account for survivors! Do I make myself clear, Major?!”