by J. F. Halpin
FIRETEAM DELTA
BOOK 1
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J. F HALPIN
Cover art – Daniel Kamarudin
Proofing and Editing – Kisa Whipkey
Copyright © 2021 Joseph. F. Halpin
All rights reserved.
Contents
Chapter 1: Fireteam Delta
Chapter 2: That’s Different
Chapter 3: The Asshole
Chapter 4: Road Trip
Chapter 5: Town
Chapter 6: Side Effects
Chapter 7: A New Friend
Chapter 8: DEFCON 1
Chapter 9: Inn for a Penny
Chapter 10: Dinner Date
Chapter 11: A Long Night
Chapter 12: Hoofin’ It
Chapter 13: Pack Tactics
Chapter 14: Old Friends
Chapter 15: Newer Friends
Chapter 16: Mended Bridges
Chapter 17: Trigger Discipline
Chapter 18: Trail of Tears
Chapter 19: No Entry
Chapter 20: Recruitment Drive
Chapter 21: Chain of Command
Chapter 22: Means to an End
Chapter 23: Training
Chapter 24: Beyond the Walls
Chapter 25: Contact
Chapter 26: Trials and Tribulations
Chapter 27: Powder Keg
Chapter 28: The Pyre
Chapter 29: Shipping Out
Chapter 30: Sea Life
Chapter 31: Bait
Chapter 32: Dreaming
Chapter 33: Takeout
Chapter 34: Devil Within
Chapter 35: Visitors
Chapter 36: Changes
Chapter 37: Turning Point
Chapter 38: Reserves
Chapter 39: Long Road
Chapter 40: A Downhill Battle
Chapter 41: Useful
Chapter 42: Trust Issues
Chapter 43: Those We Left Behind
Chapter 1: Fireteam Delta
“This thing is older than I am.”
That was the thought going through Alex Summers’ head as he checked over a radio he was fairly sure had been in service since the 1970s. He’d been at the small army communications outpost in the boonies of the Alaskan “countryside” for about three months now. In that time, he’d seen everything from a punch card machine to an honest-to-God Commodore 64 that ran their servers. It was one of the many problems with the US military branches: if it still did its job, nobody saw any need to replace it.
Although, now that he thought about it, that might be the same reasoning that kept him around. He had served in the army as a marksman. In fact, he was on track to become a Ranger. “Was” being the operative word. That had all ended after a rather unfortunate incident involving an officer’s sister, followed by a lot of string pulling and shuffling that landed him in the coldest, most out-of-the-way station they could find.
Summers snapped the radio’s cover back in place, stretching his tired back. He was tall, his skin tanned from long days on guard duty, and a mess of brown hair that was definitely not up to regulation. Not that anyone in a base this small and out of the way actually gave a shit about something like that. Mostly though, he looked bored. Young as he was, he’d already seen more than most had. He’d been in combat, seen his share of death. He didn’t miss it, exactly. But here, it was just him and his thoughts. And those were the real issue.
Cold winter air rushed into the barely heated room in an instant. Summers turned to find his border collie of a staff sergeant, Nowak, in the doorway, a smile on his face.
“What’s up . . . Sergeant?” The rank was an afterthought. Summers had dragged the man from the one bar in town too many times to bother with formalities at this point. But manners never hurt, and he liked the guy, despite his better judgment. In his experience, NCOs like Nowak were usually smarter, and meaner, than they let on.
Nowak’s smile only broadened. “You’ve got to see this shit.”
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“This shit” was a caravan of trucks pulling through the main gate. That in itself was not unusual. What was strange was the tarp-covered trailers being escorted by a full platoon of heavily armed soldiers.
“It’s some DARPA thing,” said Nowak, indicating the emblem on the side of one of the trucks. “Would have been nice if the brass had let the rest of us know it was coming.”
That was a surprise to Summers. There were about a dozen NCOs on the base, and Nowak was probably the most well-liked. If he didn’t know what was going on, it meant that whatever was happening was way over his pay grade.
Summers glanced at the tarped trucks. “What do you think it is?”
Nowak gave it some serious thought. “Probably a nuke.”
“You serious?”
Nowak shrugged. “I can’t see any other reason they’d lug all that equipment out here, except to test something that might explode. With a guard detail on top of that . . .”
Summers watched as a suited man he could only assume was an officer stepped out of the truck, followed by a young girl. She couldn’t have been more than twelve. A civilian, then? He watched as they headed over to talk with his CO, Colonel Braun. To his surprise, the colonel saluted the suit, announcing to anyone who cared that the stranger in front of them was the one calling the shots here.
“Huh . . .”
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They ate lunch in a sheet metal hangar turned mess hall. Summers watched as the men from the new guard detail kept a distance from the rest. There were a few brave or brainless soldiers who tried to cozy up to the newcomers, but from what he could tell, they were all waved away with a few polite but firm requests they keep to themselves.
Summers was busy watching the circus when a lunch tray dropped, then splashed, in front of him. He found a stocky, athletic woman in front of him, Angela Cortez. She stared down at Summers, a look of such disdain on her face, he briefly worried he’d drunk-texted her the night before.
Cortez and Nowak were Summers’ drinking buddies most weekends. They were among the only ones on base with a CIB—a piece of plastic that shows someone shot at you and missed. That made them minor celebrities among the morons who thought that shit mattered, so they’d naturally ended up getting together and swapping stories.
Cortez was also his training partner—if you considered beating the ever-loving shit out of a man training. She, of course, did, and he was worried she’d decided he needed another lesson in hand-to-face combat.
“This is some bullshit,” Cortez said, gesturing to the much larger and clearly much more heavily disciplined group of soldiers on the opposite side of the room. “They’re walking around like they own the place.”
“You seriously care if they take it off our hands?”
“No, but still . . .” Cortez muttered as she sat, still glaring at no one in particular. “Kind of pisses me off that no one bothered to mention we’d have a literal army marching in. You hear what they’re doing to the bunker?”
“What?”
The bunker was a huge, empty area full of tunnels and worn cement. It was supposed to be nuke proof, but now, it was mostly used for storage. Summers couldn’t see any reason why anyone would bother with it.
“I don’t know. They’ve taken it over. That’s why I’m asking you. You’re buddy buddy with people. They haven’t given a briefing or anything?” Cortez inclined her head toward him.
Summers chewed his food slowly.
“Even if they did, I couldn’t tell you.”
“Can’t or won’t?” asked Cortez.
“Both?”
Cortez considered that, then kicked Summers under the table, not lightly.
“Th
e fuck was that for?” Summers grunted, instinctively reaching for his leg before remembering there was a table in the way and nearly slamming his head into it.
“Because I can get away with it. And because you’re an asshole,” Cortez replied.
“She’s right. You are kind of an asshole.” Summers turned to find Nowak sitting beside him.
“How am I the asshole here?” Summers asked.
“Oh, I have no idea. I just know you don’t piss off Cortez. Ain’t that right, Cortez?” Nowak turned to the smiling woman.
“So that means you know what’s going on?” Cortez asked.
“Again, no idea, and if you kick me, I’ll have you cleaning toilets for a week.” Nowak smiled back. Cortez looked at him as if she was still considering it.
“But our good friend Summers here will be watching those doors tonight, so if he sees anything, I’m sure he’ll be smart enough to keep his mouth shut,” Nowak added, not so subtly shifting Cortez’s attention back to him.
“Why me? They’ve got a full platoon for guard duty,” Summers said.
“Because those are your orders.” Nowak smiled again, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
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Summers stood at the doorway to the bunker, M4 in hand, freezing his ass off as soldiers he didn’t recognize came and went. For whatever reason, they kept to themselves, just showed their ID and stepped through the surprisingly heavy metal doors. They never said a word.
These were not the type of soldiers Summers was used to. These guys walked around like they knew something he didn’t. Which, for all intents and purposes, was probably true, but it annoyed him that they felt the need to broadcast it. Summers wasn’t a curious man by nature, but throughout the morning, and most of the afternoon, he’d watched as they hauled all sorts of boxed-up equipment into the bunker, unloading literal truckloads of cargo. At one point, he’d thought they might run out of space, but it just kept coming. He couldn’t help but be a little curious, though now was not the time to scratch that itch.
“What do you think they’re doing in there? Heard it was a UFO. Saw a guy in a suit—think this is some Men in Black shit?”
Summers turned to see the man he was guarding the door with—a youngish, red-haired private by the name of Adams—looking at him quizzically. He hadn’t really spoken to the kid before, and with the amount of people who probably outranked his CO heading in and out of the bunker between them, he figured it was a bad time to start. Last thing he wanted was to get written up and stuck somewhere even more cold and remote. Maybe the South Pole?
“Keep your mouth shut and eyes forward,” Summers replied. Adams watched him for another beat.
“You’re kind of an asshole, you know that?” Adams observed.
“So I’ve been told,” Summers stated flatly.
Things started to quiet down after that. The trickle of soldiers stopped, and for a few hours, it was just Summers and Adams in the cold dark. It was a little strange, now that he thought about it. Summers had seen a ton of people coming in, and only a few going out. Usually just to bring in some new cargo a few minutes later.
Then there was a pop from inside.
Adams quirked his head at the noise. “You hear that?”
Summers debated whether he should ignore the private, but then another pop got his attention. No, not a pop, that was an M4. Then another. Soon, the unmistakable report of automatic gunfire was leaking through the thick metal door at their backs. Did one of those assholes go postal?
“Get my six. And do not fucking shoot unless I do first.” Summers laid his hand on the lever that would open the door, weapon at the ready. Whatever was happening, he needed to make sure they saw it coming before it was at their backs.
Just as he cracked the door open, it exploded outward.
The last thing Summers heard before the inky blackness of unconsciousness washed over him was an inhuman scream.
Chapter 2: That’s Different
“We’ve got to get out!”
Summers heard a woman’s voice yelling beside him. His eyes snapped open to find Adams holding the barrel of his M4 aimed at the chest of a fully naked, and heavily injured, woman in the doorway.
“What?” Summers heard himself say.
“Ma’am, I need you to stay back!” Adams said, backing up himself. The woman, however, either didn’t care about the gun leveled on her by a nervous, screaming private or she had a death wish. It was at that point that Summers noticed the sheer amount of blood in the hallway behind her. There were bodies everywhere, and dozens of naked men and women hovering over them.
“We need to leave!” the woman screamed again, just before lunging for Adams. To his credit, Adams didn’t hesitate. He fired a controlled burst straight into the woman’s sternum, and she dropped before she could close the distance. Whatever fog was in Summers’ head cleared at the sight of the corpse hitting the ground, and he looked for his own weapon, trying to make sense of the situation.
What he found was a body beside him; he recognized it as one of the new soldiers. They were outfitted in full kit, with grenades and extra magazines. He looked ready for war. Or at least, he would be, if Summers could find his lower half. The empty grenade pouch at his side might explain both that and Summers’ recent nap.
“What in the fuck is happening?” Summers turned to Adams, who was still staring at the body of the woman he’d just shot. Summers followed his gaze, and finally got a good look at the woman. Her skin looked paper thin, nearly translucent against a sickly thin, bony frame. And her face. Somehow, it just looked off. Moreover, it was covered in moss, sticks, and blood, especially around the mouth area. Didn’t take a genius to put two and two together on that. He turned to the rest of the group in the hall leading to the bunker.
He’d assumed they were checking on the wounded; the nudity, he was still trying to reason out. But as he finally really looked, he could see that they were tearing huge chunks of flesh from the exposed areas of the corpses. They were eating them.
“Well, shit,” Summers said absently.
“I didn’t mean to.” Summers turned to Adams, who was still staring at the woman on the ground.
“Adams, I need you to tell me what’s happening!” Summers tried to get the private’s attention.
“Stay back!”
Summers’ head snapped up as he saw another naked figure heading down the hall toward them.
“Stay back!” he heard it say again. He watched in horrified fascination as it ambled toward them, its body twisting into a wider, more masculine shape. Most worrying of all though was that the voice was familiar. It was speaking with Adams’ voice. More followed behind it, the group as a whole breaking into a full sprint down the hallway and directly toward Summers and Adams.
Something must have snapped in Summers head. Either he had a concussion, had had a stroke, or the stress of his situation had gotten to him. Logically, he should have realized that something was wrong as he reached down toward the dead soldier. He’d just been knocked unconscious, and now he was seeing things that couldn’t logically be real. If he was smart, he’d put down his gun and wait for someone at the base to help him before he hurt anyone. Those thoughts raced through his head as he felt the pin of the dead soldier’s grenade come loose. At the sudden realization that Mr. Grenade was no longer his friend, he tossed it into the hall and dove for cover.
The explosion that slammed into him felt like a baseball bat to his ribs. His head was dug into the ground beside the small entrance to the bunker. Adams must have seen him toss the grenade, because he had the good sense to hit the ground as well. As he cautiously looked up, he saw several of the base’s guards heading in their direction.
“What in the fresh fuck is going on?” were the first words he heard after his ears had stopped ringing. He looked up to find Colonel Braun standing a healthy distance away. The colonel snapped out a few orders, and Summers saw a couple of privates take off, presumably
to round up more people. Braun approached Adams, but the kid was still too shell-shocked to get a coherent sentence out.
The hallway looked devoid of life now. There might have been some twitching, but Summers wasn’t about to check. He looked back to find the colonel staring at him. If he’d been asked a question, he hadn’t heard it. Probably another bad sign.
“Sir, we were standing guard when the doors blew out. We heard gunfire, and then the woman at Adams’ feet attacked us. I’m not sure what’s happening inside.” Summers wisely left out the part where he blew himself up a second time. He tried to get to his feet, but immediately realized that was a mistake. He sat on his ass as the colonel scrutinized him.
“You and you, watch the door and shoot anything not wearing a uniform.” The colonel indicated two armed MPs.
“Sir?” one of the MPs said in reply, rightfully skeptical about a kill order on their own base.
“Kill anything not wearing army fatigues. Do I make myself clear?” the colonel repeated.
“Yes, sir,” the MPs said in unison.
Nowak must have shown up in the confusion, because just as Summers tried to get to his feet for a second time, he felt an arm pull him up.
“I got you, brother,” Nowak said, hefting Summers up.
“The rest of you, kit up. I want every man we have on this exit asap. Summers, Adams, you’re with me. I don’t want to hear a single word out of your mouths until I give you the all-clear,” the colonel said. The officers around them moved to follow through with the orders as Nowak more or less dragged Summers in the colonel’s wake.
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“You heard a scream?” the colonel asked. Summers was seated beside Adams in what was quickly becoming the control center for—as the colonel had put it—whatever the fuck was happening.
“Yes, sir,” Summers replied.
“I didn’t get a good look at what it was, but something ran off after the doors came down. Not one of the people, something as big as the damn hallway,” Adams added. That was news to Summers. As far as he knew, they’d only had to deal with the nudist cannibals.
