The Z Directive (Book 1): Extraction Point

by Thompson, Chris

  “So?”

  “She believes they may attempt to kill her. She insists that they know she’s in the hospital and any attempt to extract her via a helicopter will end in disaster.”

  “Damn it, Maxwell! You could’ve led in with this.”

  “It’s unconfirmed. Would you like to hear every crazy rumor that’s come across my desk since this outbreak began?”

  Jack shook his head.

  “Who’s on the team, other than Cross, Rodriguez and that chucklehead?”

  “Two more. Corporal Heather Smith, a medically trained operative, and someone I think you’ll be pleased to see again.” Maxwell announced, glancing towards the window. Jack turned and saw someone he knew very well opening the glass door and stepping into the room.

  “Ty!” Jack exclaimed happily, reaching out one hand. Major Tyrone Williams grabbed it and the two shook firmly, the bigger and more muscular man exerting some strength on the grip. Tyrone was bald, with dark eyes and a strong jaw line.

  “Jack! I’d say you’re back from the dead, but that’s probably a poor choice of words these days.”

  Jack smirked.

  “I see you’re still working for this asshole.” Jack told him, exerting his own strength against Tyrone’s.

  “Well, unlike you, I’ve actually got people who rely on me.”

  “Ouch.” Jack said.

  The two men continued to flex against each other, and Jack was forced to admit Tyrone had the stronger grip. They each released their hold at the same time, Jack not revealing by even a grimace how much his hand hurt.

  “Anyone else from the old team?” Jack questioned.

  “No. Grier was killed when they tried to arrest him for treason, Brown was killed on a mission and LeRoss had a breakdown.” Tyrone informed him. Jack shrugged. It was bad news, but in his life, it was to be expected up to a point. He and Tyrone had served together for years, knowing each other even before Jack had been recruited by Maxwell. Tyrone joined a year later and worked within the same team right up until Jack was burned. He didn’t hold it against his friend for not rescuing him after he was taken prisoner; Tyrone had been half a world away on a separate mission when it happened. Secretly, Jack had contacted Tyrone once he had settled in, and Tyrone’s return letters had arrived in his post office box number now and then, with money inside to help keep him on his feet. They were as close to brothers as two men could be.

  “When the reunion is over, perhaps we can return to the briefing.” Hall interjected coldly. Tyrone moved around to Jack’s right side and nodded.

  “It’s a small team, but you’ll be fully loaded with weapons and ammunition. We have other units in operation within Dewbury, but they’ll be too far away to help if something goes wrong; in other words, you’ll be pretty much on your own.”

  “Just the way he likes it.” Tyrone added as he smiled wryly at Jack.

  “Where are we escorting the good doctor to?” Jack wanted to know.

  “Primary extraction is a park, six blocks north of the hospital. There’s a good amount of open space there and the latest recon indicated it was clear of large numbers of infected.”

  “If she’s concerned about hostiles coming for her, isn’t that kind of location a bit too exposed? I mean, if she doesn’t want to leave via the roof of the building, it might be a hard sell.”

  “Once you tell us you’re on the move we’ll sweep the area with drones to ensure it’s secure.”

  “Right. But if they’ve got snipers she’s going to be a pretty easy target.” Jack countered.

  “The trees will provide sufficient cover.” Hall insisted. “I’ve done this kind of thing before, Major Ramsay; this is a good site.”

  Jack took the rebuke and shrugged.

  “Secondary extraction?”

  “There are several other viable rooftops that I will relay as and when they’re necessary, but the best bet is the multi-story car park several blocks over.” Hall informed him “There’s also the possibility of a land based extraction using the avenue we’ve established to lead civilians out of the city.” She explained, tapping on the screen of her computer and bringing up a larger map highlighting a route that led west out of the city; it passed directly through the city centre, not quite in a straight line, and eventually joined a road that led in the direction of Fort Elridge.

  “That’d be fun.”

  “If it comes to that, I recommend securing a vehicle of some kind.”

  “You don’t say.” Jack said sarcastically. Hall glared at him, making him feel a touch guilty. “Sorry. I’m sure you’re good at your job and this is very thorough. It’s just that I’ve been out of the game a while.”

  “He was always a grumpy bastard.” Tyrone added. Hall stopped glaring, but didn’t respond positively.

  “If there’s nothing else you need to tell me, I suppose I should go and get ready to roll out.” Jack said, returning his attention to Maxwell. The older man looked grim for a moment.

  “There’s a contingency plan on the table.” Maxwell declared.

  “Yeah?”

  “If Dewbury falls to the infected, and there’s no hope of containment, the option exists for the city to be burned out in an effort to stop them from spreading. It’s yet to be deployed in any city, but if the orders come down from above, there’s not much I can do to stop it.”

  “I’m sure that’ll go down well with the public.”

  “You’d be surprised. This infection isn’t like anything else we’ve ever encountered, Jack. If we don’t find a way to control its spread via a cure or some method of vaccination, then we’re going to need to attempt to control it in another way.” Maxwell explained.

  “So, feelin’ the pressure at all, Jack?” Tyrone asked. Jack glanced in his direction.

  “It’s just another job.” Jack lied.

  Emma Reed shivered; it wasn’t because of a chill in the air - truth be told it was hotter than hell in the hospital - but rather because it was now so dark she couldn’t see anything. There were sounds of fear and panic amongst the survivors outside the little room where she’d taken the borrowed laptop to make the latest video call. When she’d first contacted the military with a dead soldier’s radio, she’d promised them that she had contacts - that she knew things that would encourage the military to come and rescue them even if the hospital was all but overrun. She’d told them... but without really knowing herself if it was true. Hours later she was still waiting. Emma promised them every time they asked that she was on top of the situation and that help was on the way. Now, with the power out, she wasn’t sure if those promises hadn’t actually been lies. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, Emma gripped the sides of the laptop and gently shook the device as though that might somehow reconnect it to the internet. The router or routers in the hospital would be dead now that the hospital’s generators had gone out, and peeking out of the windows indicated that the power was still down all over. She shook the laptop again, as though shaking it would bring the generators back to life - that all the electrical grid needed was a vigorous shake to start it up again.

  “God damn it!” Emma muttered beneath her breath as the laptop remained stubbornly disconnected. Not that it mattered; she hadn’t been able to find the charging cable and the battery was at about ten percent anyway.

  “Damn it.” Emma repeated. Her life had been hell for weeks now and she regretted every choice she’d made. She regretted not going straight to the military with the USB flash drive when the outbreaks began, she regretted joining Bolvinox after graduation... Hell, at that precise moment she regretted even being born in the first place.

  The voices of concern grew louder in the corridor outside. She’d need to speak with them soon, tell them that in the last communication she’d been told help was on the way and that help had a name: Jack Ramsay. Emma closed the lid on the laptop and set the device down an arm’s length away. She stood, crossed to the window and looked down, to see in the darkness the ghost-like movement
s of the undead below. She wondered where the Bolvinox security teams were right at that moment; were they in the hospital? Had they definitely tracked her to Dewbury? She shook her head. Those concerns were going to have to wait. Suddenly, Emma realized she was about to cry; the pressure almost too much for her to bear. She’d endured so much and it seemed as if there was still so much more to do. Emma wiped her eyes and took several deep, steadying breaths to calm her nerves. She stooped to collect her bloodied fire axe, feeling just a little comfort in the heaviness of the weapon, then turned to leave the room, hoping she could present the appropriate mask of strength that the other survivors needed to see. She couldn’t appear weak at that moment; they needed her and she wasn’t going to let them down. As Emma walked towards the door, visions and ideas of how to escape even if the military didn’t come for them began to form in her mind. There were a few avenues left to pursue, but Emma couldn’t help but pray that Jack Ramsey really was coming to save them.

  Chapter Three

  Jack had been given a tablet computer similar to Hall’s, which he was instructed to use to review as much of the intel they had as he could in the time it took for the helicopter to be refueled and the rest of the team to get geared up. He spent most of the time looking over the map of the target area, acquainting himself with it so that he would be able to effectively lead the team should they need to make a sudden detour or loop back around. There was also some UAV footage that showed masses of infected around the hospital; something appeared to be drawing them in and, at this point, it was believed to be the presence of the large number of uninfected personnel inside. He didn’t have long to review the data. Fifteen minutes later Jack was back at the helicopter with the tablet in a pouch hanging off his belt. Bridges had dumped a set of urban camouflage fatigues, body armor and ammunition clips for Jack’s rifle and pistol on the floor. Rodriguez had secured a rifle more suited for sniper operations together with a submachine gun as a backup, and Tyrone was largely equipped the same as Jack, though he had a bandolier of grenades over his chest armor: fragmentation and stun. Bridges was also carrying a couple of breaching charges in case they needed to force a door open, though Jack hoped that wouldn’t be the case as the noise was sure to attract unwanted attention.

  The team was equipped for most encounters, though Jack wondered if there was really a way to be prepared for something like the infected they’d be battling against. If they were truly drawn by sound then the suppressors on their weapons would aggravate fewer of the infected, though those within a small circle of the group would likely still be able to hear the sound and come looking for the source. In addition, each had a knife to stealth kill in a sheath on their vests; these were to be used if there was a small group which had to be eliminated in total silence. Finally, their combat helmets also had a few pieces of kit that would be useful. Armored like a regular combat helmet, the Coalition variant they were using also had an in built headset that connected to the radio each team member carried on their rear right hip. The headset itself was shock resistant and was turned on to ‘transmit’ by pressing the side of the helmet and turned off in the same manner. The radio could connect to a number of frequencies and was capable of connecting to various command positions by relaying along other military lines. A primary and secondary frequency had been designated and programmed should they need to switch in the field. The helmet also had a night vision monocular that could fold down from the top of the helmet to cover one eye. And to complete its functions, the left side of the helmet featured a head cam which could be remotely accessed to stream their mission back to the control centre.

  With the helicopter refueled, they were prepared to take off and start the mission. The only problem was they were still missing one member of their team: Heather Smith. Jack changed while they waited; he used the cabin of the helicopter to switch from his jeans and shirt to the fatigues Bridges had brought him so they were all garbed the same. After waiting a further five minutes a woman with a very short blonde haircut came sprinting up to them, carrying her helmet and rifle in her hands with a small medical bag on her hip and a white strap on her arm.

  “You’re late, Smith.” Tyrone told her.

  “They were short-handed at the medical tent.”

  “What wounds are there to treat? You get bit you get turned, don’t you?” Bridges questioned. Smith looked at him, her green eye ablaze with fury.

  “When people get scared stupid shit happens; people get their skulls crushed in a stampede, they get themselves cut knocking out a window to try to escape. Do I need to go on or is that clear enough for you, Bridges?” She shot back angrily.

  “Jeez, I’m just a guy asking a question.”

  “A stupid question.” She snapped, slinging her assault rifle into a position at her side as she clambered up into the helicopter and took a seat in the corner. “I had to amputate a guy’s leg just now. What were you doing?”

  Bridges looked a little sheepish but said nothing, climbing up into the helicopter after her.

  “All right, we’re moving out!” Tyrone yelled loudly, clambering in along with Jack. Once all were aboard, the helicopter’s rotors began to spin and a few moments later, they were lifting off and beginning to bank towards the city. Smith looked towards Jack and shook her head.

  “Who are you?” She demanded.

  “Jack Ramsay.” He responded.

  “He’s in charge.” Tyrone added.

  Smith looked confused for a moment, then nodded.

  “Fine.” She responded, looking away and seemingly uninterested in who had taken command of the team.

  “Why’s he in charge?” Bridges asked, the helicopter banking harder as it aligned itself with the designated route into the city. Tyrone looked at him.

  “Because I said so. Problem?”

  “Well, he’s been out of the game for a while. What if he’s lost his edge?”

  Tyrone laughed.

  “When do you think I first saw you?” Jack asked him.

  “When you came back to the helicopter.” Bridges responded; his tone laden with conviction, even if he was wrong.

  “So, you didn’t see the hide up the tree overlooking the clearing? I could’ve taken out all three of you before your boots were even on the ground.”

  Bridges looked uncertain.

  “Jack and I have pulled more missions behind enemy lines than you can even begin to imagine. If there was anyone I would want to lead a mission other than myself, it’d be him. That should be enough for you.” Tyrone insisted.

  “Good enough for me, sir.” Cross announced. Rodriguez gave a short nod. Bridges said nothing and instead, looked at his boots.

  “Good.” Tyrone stated flatly.

  Jack looked out of the window. He was glad there wasn’t any animosity from Tyrone because he had been placed in charge of the mission; after all, this was his team. It was a little unorthodox, but these days it seemed that orthodox was in short supply. The flight out to Dewbury provided further information on what was happening outside most cities currently under attack by the infected. Below there were clearly outposts that had been set up alongside the road and in the fields surrounding Dewbury, evidenced by the beams of light coming from what were likely portable spotlights. While he was too high to see exact movement, as it was pretty dark outside the light, it made sense to him to imagine there were fireteams of maybe five or six, each manning a position and gunning down the infected that spilled out from the city. Looking between the seats across from him and out through the front windows of the cockpit, Jack could see the city proper in the distance; it wasn’t well lit, with only some areas actually having power, the rest being lost in the gloom of night.

  “Have you been in there?” Jack asked Tyrone.

  “A few times. Been in other places too where it’s far worse.”

  “What’s it like on the ground?”

  “It’s bad, man. Taking the infected on a few at a time isn’t too bad. Then something happens and a swarm
hits you; twenty, thirty, forty, a hundred. You think it’s easy to take them down one headshot at a time until you’re scrambling back and they’re coming at you like a damn tide.”

  Jack nodded. Tyrone was one of the bravest men he’d ever met, and yet Tyrone looked a little shaken recounting his experiences.

  “We’ll be fine. And whatever this doctor has to tell us should hopefully help to fix whatever the hell is going on out there.” Jack told Tyrone reassuringly.

  “That’s the thing though,” Cross interjected, “these people, they’re dead. I mean, they’re really dead; no heartbeat and minimal brainwave activity. How can you possibly cure that? At best a cure would return them to a fully deceased state, and at worse it simply wouldn’t have any effect.”

  “Maybe a vaccine then?” Jack suggested. “Something to prevent people from turning after being bitten or coming into contact with bodily fluid.”

  Smith turned to look at them.

  “I’ve seen people turn without any apparent bite wounds.” She told the group. Jack looked at her.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I honestly think that whatever is causing the dead to rise is in the air. Maybe it’s some kind of radiation, maybe some kind of naturally occurring mutated virus... Hell, maybe it’s something that someone made.”

  “And you’ve shared this thought with the General I’m assuming?” Tyrone asked.

  “I have and he dismissed it. But I was talking with some of the other medics and doctors, and they’ve seen the same thing.”

  “Seems like the rules would change quite a bit if people are just turning.” Cross commented. “That’d mean some kind of vaccination would be the only real way to control the outbreak.”

  “There’s still the problem of a couple of millions zombies.” Bridges said. “Probably more by now. No matter how well we aim, that’s a lot to kill.”