by Byrd, Daniel
Ethan’s stomach fluttered as he checked to ensure his gun was ready at a moment’s notice. He'd already cleaned and inspected every part, so he had confidence in it. What he didn't have confidence in was himself. He'd been through war. He'd nearly taken shrapnel to the face from a car bomb, but got lucky. He'd killed people. Somehow, this was more terrifying to him, and he didn't even understand why. He tried to control his breathing as Steffa’s company filed outside and headed for the entrance.
“I’m assigning some of you to help stand guard around the hospital. Something goes wrong, then nothing gets out.” He looked back to Ethan. “I need four teams to split off when we’re inside to clear the facility. Stevens? You’ll be in charge of one. Clear?”
Ethan wanted to throw up. “Clear, sir.”
“Good,” Steffa said with a smile, “let’s go!”
***
The Air Force and allied units were busy tending to the sprouting undead menace around the housing areas, and that gave Houseman time to focus on his own operation. No word had come regarding Hamilton’s whereabouts, unfortunately. He knew this wasn't going to be a simple drop him in and finish the job operation, but with so much going wrong at once he needed something to work in their favor. Hampton was nearby, conversing with some of the CIA operatives who were attempting to find any trace of Hamilton in Europe. Everything led to a dead end.
Houseman looked up at the large monitor displaying the impacted areas throughout the world that Joint Task Force Grave Robber was monitoring for clues. Japan had finally taken a hit in the past hour. No details were available yet, but the timing with Ramstein had Houseman wondering. There was no pattern to the spread of the virus; nothing that was clear and concise. They were fighting more than zombies out there. Their target source was a ghost. Just how far was the reach of the World to Come?
“Houseman!” a voice thundered from the entrance to the command room. He didn't even have to turn around to know Doe was looking to fight again.
“General Doe?” he responded as he kept monitoring the screen.
“You've placed all of your resources into your pointless operation! I need your task force helping to defend this base!”
“This operation has been approved by President Loft and the acting members of Congress, Doe.” Houseman looked over his shoulder and eyed Doe with scrutiny. “Are you insinuating I don't have any business performing my duty?”
“I'm telling you that we need to be more focused on the matter at hand!”
Houseman rubbed his chin. “Are the undead within the base under control?”
“Their numbers aren't anything we can't handle, but-”
“Are they under control, General Doe?”
Doe raised a brow. “Yes, but-”
“Then why should I waste my time on that effort when you are proving quite competent as a commander?”
“Houseman…” Doe growled like a beast before waving his hand and storming away. Hampton had been observing, and swore he saw Houseman smiling as Doe left.
“Major!” Houseman barked.
“Sir!”
“Back to work.”
The Major went back to his discussion as Houseman continued to glare at the presentation of the world. It was amazing to see the blank areas amongst the land masses. All of that dull blue between the light green and painful red. The sight triggered his urge to look to their Naval communication team. They were on standby in the corner, waiting for the moment their role in the operation would come to fruition. Houseman’s eyes went back to the monitor, and he waited.
***
Ethan nearly bumped into one of the other soldiers, and ended up seeing a shrouded head shaking at him through the plastic visor. He collected himself and proceeded to move with caution behind the other two men. It was bizarre. He was used to the idea of scenes like this being dark and creepy in the movies. Instead fluorescent lights buzzed overhead and gave great vision as he carefully moved forward down the hall, carbine up and finger on the trigger guard. Occasional openings lined both sides of his peripheral vision. Danger could come from anywhere. He could feel sweat pouring down his back as he steadily stepped forward one boot at a time, head swiveling left and right to look down the hallways. He was only on the first floor, which meant that more just like his team were witnessing the same above him with other patrols performing the same task. They were told not to expect many people moving about with all of the armed forces spread throughout the hospital, but that didn't mean deadmen weren't waiting to strike the second he dropped his guard.
“This is Captain Steffa. Everyone sound off. Alpha Team, here!”
“Bravo Team, on scene.”
“Charlie Team, here!”
Ethan worked his radio. “Delta Team, on route to location.”
“Excellent. We’re to perform a sweep as we move towards the destination. Everyone keep your eyes peeled, because we’re covering the tracks of the other forces who’ve already been through this place. Don't hesitate to call for backup. We rendezvous at Ward 3A. Alpha Team, out.”
A series of confirmations sounded off before communications fell silent. Ethan and his team kept their guns pointed to the floor as they made their way down their level of each building before rounding back to the junction and heading towards the next. Each intersection led to more nervous speculation of what was to come as they made their way down each hallway and back to the center. Every time Ethan called in to confirm that they were indeed clear of any threats. The other floors followed the same pattern above him, and soon they were nearing their destination. To Ethan, it was fucking eerie. Sure the place was well-lit, and they had plenty of trained people not even counting themselves, but none of that did anything to kill the morbid feeling in his gut. Over and over he kept thinking of all of the horror movies he'd watched, and more of them added up to the reality of a building with electricity. No blood. No screams. The only variable present was an unknown threat, and even that wasn't entirely true. Why was he so terrified? Maybe it was just being in a hospital. They never were comforting. Hell, the tent he was treated in after the car bomb was even creepy. Was it just knowing that Death was ever present in places like this, and waiting?
“All teams, we've received word that the second team has entered Ward 3A. You are to continue your patrols and circle back to that location where we’ll discuss our next orders. Alpha Team, out.”
Ethan tried to convince himself that meant good news. Unfortunately that was hard to do when they occasionally passed a wing full of terrified staff and patients. On one account an elderly woman actually screamed when she saw the three of them walk by in their equipment. Ethan’s gun started to come up before he realized he was the source of her fear. It was disheartening. He was no monster by any means, and it only tore at him more that the very people he was there to defend might have an issue seeing that. Try as he might, he couldn't forget the woman’s reaction.
Between all of his emotions was amazement at the number of uniformed service members in the facility. It was odd having the stereotype of scrubs traded for more people wearing the U.S. Army patterns. This was the medical center for troops across Europe, after all. He was surrounded by fellow countrymen, and even that didn't shake the feeling of dread.
“All teams, report to the rendezvous point. Contact has been made. I repeat, the enemy is in Ward 3A.”
Ethan was glad he was wearing a mask to hide his horror. “Holy fuck.”
***
“Casualty report?” Houseman asked calmly.
“We have over thirty confirmed instances of the undead, sir,” Hampton informed him, “and more are coming in steadily. So far, only six bites have been reported by forces engaging the enemy.”
“What of them?”
Hampton hesitated for a moment, but found the courage to reply. “They've been executed as per protocol, sir.”
Houseman nodded and went back to monitoring the screen. “We’ll weather this storm. It's just a cold front compared to what's
ahead.”
“Sir, there's something else…”
“What?”
“The infected individuals that our forces have been fighting…well, we've had multiple accounts reporting no visible bites on the corpses, sir.”
Houseman turned around, whatever was keeping his anger in check now unsealed. “What?!”
“They've stripped some to make sure, but they're confident in their reports, sir.”
Houseman looked to the ceiling, trying to keep his anger in check while he rattled his brain, trying to think of what variable they were missing.
“Sir?”
“I want Doe back here. Now!”
***
Ethan rounded the corner with the rest of his team, and unfortunately discovered that they were the first on the scene. Other uniformed personnel stood before the doors to the ward, and only two were armed for combat with M4 carbines and their standard M9 pistols. A room off to the side held the controls with two security guards monitoring everything just inside the doors. They were studying the screen closely, and one had a hand over his mouth. At first, Ethan didn't believe there to be a present threat, but then something slammed against one of the doors. Everyone backed away and brought their weapons up. Another impact, but the doors didn't threaten to give.
“There are ten people on the other side!” one of the security personnel shouted out at them, “and two are friendlies! The rest are patients!”
“What the hell is going on in there?!” Ethan yelled back, never taking his eyes off the doors. There was no time to respond before the crack of a gunshot came from the other side. The narrow glass window on the right door shattered, and someone behind him went down hard. Ethan dropped to the floor before looking back to see one of the hospital-assigned soldiers on his back with a hand to his reddening chest. Ethan moved to him and grabbed one arm while another on his team helped drag the injured man behind the wall. All the while gunfire continued past the doors.
“What the fuck’s going on?!” Captain Steffa and Alpha Team had arrived in time to witness Delta Team scrambling to safety.
“Sir, we were fired upon by someone inside!” Ethan tried to explain as the injured soldier groaned next to him.
“Shit…get that man to the medics and-”
More gunfire drowned out his voice, and everyone’s back slammed into the wall in response. It was around that time that Beta and Charlie Teams had arrived opposite them in the hallway. All of Steffa’s squad found themselves rendered to play defense as the turmoil unraveled just inside the ward.
“What the hell do we do?!” one soldier shouted across the hall.
“Should we just storm in there?!” another asked aloud.
“Sir?!”
“Sir?!”
Ethan approached Steffa from behind. “Sir?”
“Enough!” Steffa demanded. The gunfire ceased. He stuck his head out to inspect the scene, but there was nothing to be made out from the doors. Steffa swore and motioned for the teams across the hall. “I’ve got a plan.” He pointed to a member of Charlie Team. “Toss a smoke grenade in. We’ll coordinate with security on the doors on the count of three.”
A terror-filled scream came from the ward and echoed down the halls. Ethan took an involuntary step back. “And then?”
“Concentrate fire on that area for five seconds before we determine whether or not it's safe to enter.”
Nervous chatter spewed from the mouths of the unit, but Steffa wasn't having it. “Weapons ready!”
Ethan had to suffocate his fear under false confidence as he brought the carbine to his shoulder, barrel to the ground and finger on the trigger guard. One of the soldiers on the other side approached the corner, masked head pointed to Steffa as he awaited the command. Steffa motioned with his left hand, and Ethan watched as the man was patted on the shoulder by the unit closest to the corner. All was quiet as the unit moved low and forward towards the doors. His hand went to his vest to retrieve the grenade, and following the sound of the pin hitting the floor the grenade was tossed into the shot-out window of the door on the right. Nothing, then hissing as a bright-red cloudd of smoke began to rise into view. It bled out into the hall as Steffa moved out from cover.
“Open the doors!” he shouted to the security team. A buzzer sounded, and the doors slowly swung open. Steffa motioned for the soldiers behind him to form up. With hardly an inch between them, the unit converged on the scene and raised their guns to the crimson fog, Steffa’s raised arm the only thing keeping everyone from unleashing hell. Fingers awaited the command, and Steffa finally brought his arm down. “Fire!”
The ruination had begun. Bullets cut through the blinding red and disappeared into the unknown, with the only question being just what they would embed themselves into. The chorus of gunfire shattered the still air. The unit under Captain Steffa stood amongst discharging brass in the disarray of muzzle blasts, supersonic projectiles and optical flashes of ignited gunpowder. Five straight seconds of automatic and semi-automatic gunfire ate away at the unknown, and as the last shots resonated and empty bullet cases finished ejecting to the floor, everyone either worked on reloading or gathering their confidence while waiting for the smoke to clear. With the confines of the hallway it didn’t have many places to go, so Steffa decided to go ahead and move forward. Ethan followed closely behind with his carbine following his turning torso. As much as he hated the gas mask, it was proving quite handy at the moment. The red finally began to give way, and was replaced by…red.
Ethan slowly lowered his carbine. “Jesus Christ…”
There was too much of it to have been from their assault alone. Splatters covered the walls and ceiling, and the bodies on the floor were practically bathed in it. The overhead lights being mostly covered only served to cast more of the grisly red everywhere. Mangled limbs almost tripped the others as they walked past, and the amount of blood caused some to slip and collapse onto the heap of corpses. Ethan had never seen something so sickening, and forced himself to close his eyes for fear of the image being imprinted into his mind. He'd already seen enough in his nightmares. He didn't need any more fuel.
“Dude, move!” someone behind him shouted. “I’m not trying to slip in this shit!”
Ethan opened his eyes, and they immediately homed in on the dead again. He couldn’t not witness the atrocity. Most of the figures at his feet wore hospital gowns that were soaked in blood, and a few behind him were in military apparel. It hit him. They’d been fighting for their lives at a dead end, hoping to escape the ward and flee from the infected inside. Orders said that they couldn’t leave, and then Ethan and the others had just come in and eliminated any slim chance of them leaving alive if it had still existed. The blood wasn’t just everywhere else around him. It was on his hands. He began to hyperventilate inside of his mask as he brought a boot up to step over the closest body. It was a young woman whose blonde hair was matted with fresh blood. He’d only gotten two steps away when he heard the gurgling. Looking back, he was stunned to see that she was still moving. The body stirred, and began to push itself up on what was left of an elbow that still dragged the forearm along by strands of meat. Her face was mostly covered by the hair, but one eye met his. It was still alight, with an only dulled green that strained to resist the reflection of the light. Ethan couldn’t do anything, and it wasn’t until the crack of a gunshot led to the front of her head rupturing open that he finally realized where he was again.
“Problem, soldier?”
It was Steffa. He was standing next to Ethan, carbine leveled at the head of the body.
“I…I don’t-”
“We’ve got a job to do, Stevens.” He turned around and stepped through the pools of blood to catch up with the others. “You’re not alone. They see it too. Just look.”
Ethan followed his finger to see four other soldiers just as bad off as him, if not worse. One had torn his gas mask off and was currently emptying his stomach onto the floor. Steffa shouted at that one and made
his way over as Ethan worked to steady his breathing. Through the visor the scene seemed so far away, but he knew he was right there with the dead.
“This is Steffa. I know some of you have moved further inside, but I want to remind you of our orders. Consider them updated. This is going to be hard to say, but we still have to secure this hospital. That means by any costs. This ward has been compromised. Execute everyone. Every. One.”
***
“We have to be rearmed?” Davenport exclaimed. “Jesus, what the hell are we hitting next? I thought they were starting to get control down there? If we drop anything else we’re gonna start hitting friendlies!”
“They probably just need us ready in case they discover another heap of them somewhere,” McCall replied, “so I wouldn’t go whining about the idea being useless.”
“I thought you’d be excited to stay up in the air, Loudmouth?” That was uncharacteristic of Bartlett. Davenport was actually getting disturbed by her cockiness. It was unbecoming of the pacifist.
“I like not being within biting distance as much as the next guy.”
“Then don’t complain,” Bartlett responded. Davenport practically choked on his words.
“You talk a lot of shit for someone who almost missed two of her targets!”
“Hey, Loudmouth,” McCall cut in, “you do know that women make great pilots, right? Stop egging her on.”
“What? Peacemaker is no Night Witch, that’s for sure.”
“All squadrons, listen up! Two squadrons of Luftwaffe Tornadoes just took off from Lechfeld Air Base. You are ordered to intercept them and force them to land.”