“Last one!” Tyrone alerted Jack as they resumed their assault on the encroaching wall of infected.
The pile of bodies were indeed slowing down their advance, but they were still coming like an inevitable, unceasing tide, slowly gaining ground until they were nearly a third of the way up the ramp. Jack found he had totally lost track of the minutes. Did they have to hold out for the full seven still or was it much closer now? Distantly, he thought he could hear the sound of a helicopter, but it was hard to hear anything over the constant, drone of gunfire and the chorus of the undead. Suddenly his magazine ran empty again; he ejected the magazine and loaded a fresh one, realizing that the undead were encroaching closer and closer. Tyrone called a warning that he was about to launch his final fragmentation grenade, and when it detonated it slaughtered a great number of the undead mass near the base of the ramp. The horde, however, continued to surge forward, despite the casualties that were being inflicted upon them.
“I’m out!” Smith reported. Bridges continued firing, six or seven times before he snarled in frustration.
“Me too!”
Emma fumbled with her reload, the axe gripped under her arm, but once she’d chambered a round she raised her weapon and killed a pair of crawling infected.
“Jack, this is my last magazine!” She informed him.
“Shit.” Jack responded, almost to himself.
Losing the additional suppressing gunfire from Bridges and Smith allowed the infected to advance quicker. Jack was aiming more carefully, firing less and intending to gain a kill with every shot rather than simply being satisfied to at least wound or slow an infected with every hit. Tyrone was also firing slower, conserving his ammunition as best he could; the result was that the infected were now steadily encroaching, clambering up to about half of the ramp and showing no signs of slowing.
“Back!” Jack instructed his team to begin their retreat. His mind raced with tactical possibilities; soon they wouldn’t be able to hold their ground, so escaping and attempting instead to reach another extraction point was the only thing they could do. He fired as he took careful steps back, and then took a moment to glance over his left shoulder to see that there was a structure in the far left corner that would house the stairwell down. Assuming no infected had made their way inside, perhaps they could descend all the way and then... what? The parking structure was surrounded.
Tyrone fired and his weapon ran empty, forcing him to switch to his sidearm. He squeezed off shots with as much accuracy as he could, as quickly as he could, but even with Jack’s final bullets, it was barely denting the infected as they neared the three-quarters mark of the ramp.
“What’s the plan, Jack?” Tyrone questioned as they continued their retreat, moving away from the ramp and in doing so losing line of sight on the lower sections.
“Hold out as long as we can; if extraction doesn’t arrive by then we take the stairs over there and retreat to another extraction point.” Jack explained as he took a couple of careful shots at two infected who had advanced faster than the others.
“Ramsay, get clear of the ramp, now!” Hall barked over the radio.
Without asking for clarification, Jack did as he was instructed, grabbing hold of Emma’s arm and turning to run. Tyrone did the same, Smith and Bridges running together. He didn’t know why they needed to get clear, but the answer came a few moments later. A frighteningly loud explosion detonated behind them, the lack of force suggesting it wasn’t on top but was somewhere on the side of the building. The structure shook however; a violent shockwave that made the wounded Bridges stumble and drag Smith down with him. A second explosion followed not long after, this time shaking the building far more violently, making it seem as though it might collapse at any moment. Jack risked looking back as they continued to flee, seeing a massive hole in the side of the structure where whatever had caused the damaging explosion had torn into the ramp and the wall.
“That was your drone support, Ramsay.” Maxwell told him over the radio.
“Pat yourself on the back later, where’s the damn helicopter?” Jack demanded.
“Inbound, standby!” Hall told him.
Jack and the team came to a stop, looking back to the ramp which seemed to have been destroyed by the airstrike, then ahead of them as the loud sound of the stairwell door being forced open boomed across the top floor of the building. From it, a fresh stream of infected poured out, a dozen at first, then dozens more - a murder of zombies, Jack’s tired mind thought as he watched them coming closer.
“Back! We’ll try to climb down the rubble!” Jack instructed, starting to retreat, aiming his weapon and firing the last few shots he had in his magazine, Tyrone blasting a few quick snapshots at the infected, killing some but not enough.
“The helicopter’s inbound, Jack, just hold your position!” Maxwell told him, the sound of a helicopter definitely audible. The question was who would reach them first: the infected or their escape vehicle?
“Jack?” Tyrone asked.
“Stand your ground. Maxwell, you’d better be right.” Jack responded, letting his weapon fall to his side as he reached for his knife.
The infected were coming, moaning, roaring, growling: Tyrone gunned down those he could before his pistol ran dry, forcing him to reload while Emma fired off her final shots. Jack was ready to go down fighting, but he hoped that Maxwell was going to pull through for them - that the helicopter he could hear would arrive in time to save them, rather than simply see their bodies being dragged down by the infected.
“Jack!” Emma called out, fear lacing her voice. “I’m out of ammunition!”
The only gunshots now were from Tyrone; he killed some, winged others. They were still coming. Jack briefly thought of his promise to Emma and whether it would be necessary to fulfill it. As Tyrone’s weapon clicked empty for the last time, he drew his own knife and joined Jack as he moved to the front. Emma discarded her firearm and held the axe in both hands, a determined - but fearful - expression on her face. They stood ready, prepared to stab, cut, slash and gouge the infected for as long as they could. There were, Jack knew, too many of them, but he sure as hell wasn’t going down without a fight. Jack drew back, preparing to stab an infected that was within three feet of him - just as the heavy, mechanical droning of the helicopter drowned out all other sound. Light bloomed onto the area followed by heavy, automatic gunfire and the infected in front of Jack disintegrated under weapon fire. Risking a glance upwards, Jack saw the helicopter strafing past, the mounted machine guns being operated by a soldier who was laying down suppressing fire on the infected. The helicopter sped past, the weapons shredding the infected that were streaming out of the stairwell. The immediate threats were all dead, but there were more ready to emerge. The helicopter started to come around, the weapons on the other side of the helicopter blazing into life as the crew continued their assault on the enemy. Jack watched, relieved, but still highly aware they needed to get away before more joined the battle. The helicopter hovered, lowering itself down towards the top of the structure, the side door sliding open wider allowing them access. A trio of soldiers dropped down, training their weapons on the stairwell, firing at the first sign of an infected coming through.
“Get the hell aboard!” The pilot came over the radio.
Jack ran over to the helicopter and turned, waiting to help his team board. Smith and Bridges were first, the former clambering in and, with her and Jack’s help, Bridges was up too. After him went Emma, Jack supporting her as she climbed up and in, followed by Tyrone. Jack barked for the soldiers to board, leaving him alone on the rooftop. Satisfied no one was left behind, other than Rodriguez, Jack climbed aboard the helicopter. The vehicle lifted up immediately, banking across so it was over the street. Jack crossed to the other side of the helicopter and opened the other door wider, looking at the rooftop of the apartment building. Out of a central doorway Rodriguez emerged, sniper rifle hanging on his back and submachine gun in his hand. He let it fall, th
e strap keeping it attached to him, and he sprinted, charging towards the edge of the rooftop. Jack knelt down, feeling a strong hand on his back armor to secure him. Behind Rodriguez, a half dozen infected shuffled after him, but were failing in their attempt to pursue him as he reached the edge of the rooftop well ahead of them. Rodriguez placed one boot up on the wall and launched himself out, grabbing the landing strut of the helicopter with both hands. He swayed precariously, but Jack leaned down as far as he could, reaching out with one hand to help Rodriguez - who reached up and grabbed it; exerting some considerable strength against Jack’s wrist. Once certain his grip was secure, Jack began to haul Rodriguez up, bringing him into the helicopter cabin. The doors were shut by two soldiers and the helicopter began to bank, turning away. Breathing heavily, looking around at the survivors, Jack felt an immense relief and satisfaction. This feeling was tempered by the sadness Jack also felt over the sudden loss of Cross. As they escaped the hell below them, Jack took a moment to think on their fallen comrade.
Chapter Ten
Jack was exhausted. The flight back was the first time any of them had had to catch their breath. He’d checked in with all of his team and, finally, with Emma. Bridges was going to make a full recovery, according to Smith, although he’d be living the rest of his life without an ear. The leg wound, she assured Jack, wasn’t enough to keep him off his feet provided it was tended to as soon as they got back to base - much to Bridges’ disappointment. Smith was certain she had no lasting injuries, reiterating that Bridges had shown uncharacteristic selflessness and had taken the worst of the aggressive interrogation.
Tyrone didn’t have much to say; he was still a little broody about Jack’s sudden change of plan when Smith and Bridges were taken prisoner, and it was in the air that the past was coming between them. Nothing was said about it, but Jack knew they’d need to deal with it before the next mission. Rodriguez was silent. When he was told of Cross’ death he seemed to slip further into his preference for nonverbal communication. He nodded at the news, nodded when asked if he was uninjured, then closed his eyes. Jack wondered just how close the two men had been - whether they’d been friends for long and if they’d been serving together for some time. Questions that he was curious about, but supposed didn’t matter much now. Rodriguez didn’t seem to want to talk about it and Cross was dead. There was still a lot of work ahead of them though, so Jack took his seat beside Emma and looked at her for a moment before engaging her.
“You holding up?” He asked.
“About as well as I can.” She told him. “I’m exhausted, hungry and sad. Cross, the way he just went down... It’s my fault.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“But if he hadn’t come for me, then maybe he’d—”
“This is happening everywhere. Our first task was to rescue you, then it became about getting our teammates back, and it really helped us that you volunteered to risk yourself for them. You aren’t responsible for his death, but you are responsible for helping to save two lives, and probably a hell of a lot more with the data you were able to retrieve.”
Emma looked at him, a confused look in her eyes that gave way to minor relief. She leaned into him, placing her head on his shoulder and he, almost instinctively, placed his hand on her shoulder. They stayed in that position until the helicopter came in for a landing about twenty or so minutes later. Allowing everyone else to disembark first, Jack and Emma were the last ones to emerge. Bridges was waving off a stretcher and was instead moving, with Smith’s assistance, away in the direction of the medical tent. Standing a half dozen paces away, with Hall just behind him and a trio of soldiers guarding the pair, was Maxwell. Jack led the way to him as the helicopter powered down behind him.
“Jack, Emma, glad to see you’re both uninjured.” Maxwell announced.
“I’m glad you decided to pull us out of there this time.”
“I suppose it’s too much to think this might mean we’re even?” Maxwell asked as he pulled a cigarette out of the packet.
“You’d probably suppose correctly. But let’s just say...” Jack trailed off, taking a breath as he looked at the older man. “Let’s just say the past is in the past.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Maxwell said, smiling briefly before looking at Emma. “It seems we’ve a lot to talk about. The data is already being processed by a dozen or more experts in their fields, but the sheer amount you recovered means it's going to take us a little while.”
“I’ll help you as much as I can.”
“We’d appreciate that.” Maxwell told her. “We’ll schedule a full debriefing a couple of hours from now. Until then, get some rest.”
Emma looked to Jack for a moment. He nodded and smiled at her.
“Go ahead. I’ll be around.”
Reluctantly, she stepped away. Hall moved to her side and escorted her towards the command centre, leaving Jack and Maxwell alone.
“Seems she’s attached to you.” Maxwell commented.
“After the shit we’ve been through, I think it would bond anyone together.”
“True enough.”
“How are things going?”
“The city is all but free of friendlies; one centre still needs to be evacuated but they’re getting hit hard by some kind of running zombies. Weirder things have been getting reported too, but we’ve got no confirmation on them.”
“And overall? Have we lost more ground?”
“It’s pretty bad out there right now, Jack. We’re holding our ground in some places, losing it in others; we need something from this data to give us a better chance.”
Tyrone came up behind Jack with Rodriguez.
“Listen, if you need to get some chow and a drink now’s the time, otherwise there’s plenty more work for you to be getting on with.” Maxwell told them.
Jack looked at Tyrone, then at Rodriguez before refocusing on Maxwell.
“Where are we needed?” Jack wanted to know.
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