AB (The Blake Reynolds Chronicles Book 1)

by Landon, Bret Dee

  “I hope you have some good news for me.”

  The older of the two men spoke first. “It has been several frustrating days tracking a candidate down. We had hundreds of potential candidates. As we went through the records we discovered by double-checking other sources that most of the candidates had been mistyped.”

  “Yes, go on!” John said impatiently.

  The other man continued. “Sir, we narrowed the list down to a couple of dozen real candidates. As we tried to contact their commanders in their areas of operation, half had been overrun by the ABs. As we contacted the commanders of the other candidates, they were either reported as KIA or MIA.”

  “I assume that you didn’t call me here just to tell me that there are no candidates in the whole US of A!”

  “No sir. We believe that there is one candidate in the group defending San Diego. He is a young Navy SEAL. After talking with the commanding officer in the area of operation, he is still alive but in a heavy combat zone.”

  The captain stood. “Come with me.”

  Once on the bridge the captain ordered the communications officer to contact Pacific Command.

  After the general got on the line, the captain quickly explained the need to retrieve the young SEAL and return him to the ship.

  Day 9: Blake

  Blake and the other patrol leaders arrived in Major Williams’s office at 1900 hours and took their seats.

  “In a few minutes, General Arlington will be addressing us. He is commanding the forces in central California. I was not given any details as to what was to be discussed,” Major Williams said. He reached across the table and turned on the computer screen. General Arlington appeared on the other end.

  “Soldiers, I am extremely proud of how you have handled each of your assignments. In most areas, we are holding our own and saving countless civilian lives. I am calling you now to tell you that I have been ordered to mount a retrieval mission to get a young Navy SEAL who is part of the forces guarding the clean zone in San Diego. From what I understand – and I don’t have all the details – this SEAL might hold the solution to this apocalypse.

  “The Navy is having a hard time getting through to his platoon, but we believe he is still alive. They are involved in heavy fights and can’t reach the area. Because the area you’re covering seems to be dealing with less resistance, you are ordered to mount the retrieval mission.

  “We have plenty of aircraft at the ready but almost no pilots left. And the few that we do have are constantly flying support missions. We feel that we can only spare a few SuperCobra pilots for this mission. If we pull more than one or two, we fear that we will lose many of our civilian clean zones. This is where I am asking for help. Is there any of you that know of any pilots in your areas that can fly one of our Huey helicopters? Maybe a civilian or any retired ex-military personnel?”

  There was a pause as the general stared at the videoconference screen. Each of the group leaders reported one by one that he didn’t know of anyone that could help.

  “The other day, I overheard one of our cooks talking. He said that he was a pilot that flew old Hueys as part of a crop-spraying business,” the soldier next to Blake said.

  “Damn, I was hoping for more! I guess that will have to do. Check with the man and see if he is willing to help. Use whatever encouragement is necessary.”

  Blake wrestled between his mind and heart with whether he should say anything about Tara. She had been flying off and on since her retirement just to keep her skills up.

  “General, I’m conflicted to say this, but my wife is probably one of the best pilots that the Marines have ever produced. The problem is… we have a four-year-old daughter.”

  “Captain, I know this is a hard thing to ask, but if we don’t win this war, there might not be any world left to raise your daughter in.”

  The general then addressed the base commander. “Have your men contact the pilots and see if they will help. Get back to me within the hour with your report.” He then ended the meeting.

  Blake turned to Major Williams. “I will go talk to Tara, but I already know her answer.”

  As Blake walked back to his tent, he wondered if Kaya would be angry at him for asking Tara such a difficult question. He slowly entered the tent, and Tara greeted him with a warm smile. “So how did your meeting go?”

  “We are holding our own, but we don’t know how it will turn out in the long run. But there is a glimmer of hope.” Blake grabbed Tara’s shoulders, and her smile vanished.

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “There is a young Navy SEAL in San Diego who might contain the cure to this disease. Problem is we don’t have enough pilots to mount a retrieval mission. The general is recruiting all the pilots in the area that he can to help on this mission. I hesitated to let them know that you are still one of the best pilots the Marines has ever seen, but then again this is a war for survival.”

  “When do we leave?” Tara immediately said.

  Blake cupped his wife’s face in his hands and planted a soft kiss on her lips. “I’m not sure yet, but I think in the morning.”

  All the recruited pilots agreed to the mission. The plans were made for all of the pilots to be escorted by a patrol to the airfield on the west part of Camp Pendleton. There, they would be given orders and coordinates for the retrieval mission.

  Just as the plans were being finalized, Blake entered Major Williams’s office.

  “Sir, I request that I accompany Tara, my wife, on this mission. I would also request that Munns and one other soldier accompany us.”

  “Reynolds, I hate losing two of my patrol leaders at a time like this, but if I were in your shoes, I would request the same thing. Request granted.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Oh, and one other thing, Reynolds – bring everybody back in one piece.”

  “Yes sir.”

  Day 10: Blake

  Blake and Tara got out of their cots at 0500 and dressed quickly and quietly. They wanted to let Kaya sleep just a little longer. After they dressed they needed to take her to their neighbor’s tent, who was going to watch her while they were gone.

  Tara slowly pulled back her covers and picked her up.

  “Mommy, it is still dark outside.”

  “I know, Sweetie, but Daddy and I have something very important that we need to do today.”

  Kaya rubbed her eyes then first looked at Tara and then at Blake with a confused look on her face. “I don’t want you to go. How about we go to the park instead?”

  Blake and Tara looked at each other and knew the other was fighting back the tears. Blake could see Tara was having a hard time speaking so he continued.

  “We should be back tonight and then we will go the park and play. You will be staying next door with Amy and her daughter, Jill. Doesn’t that sound fun?” It was all that he could do to hold the fake smile on his face. He knew there was a chance they wouldn’t see Kaya again.

  Blake reached down and grabbed Tara’s hand as they walked to the neighbor’s tent.

  Just as the sun started to rise, all the civilian pilots and soldiers were gathered and loaded in the Hummers. Major Williams came out and saluted the convoy as they headed towards the airfield. Surprisingly, they encountered few ABs on their way, and the few they saw either stared at them blankly as they drove by or tried to attack them and were shot or run over.

  It was an hour later when they rolled up to the gates of the airfield. As they stopped, they were surprised by how few soldiers were left on the airfield.

  “Where is everyone?” Blake asked the guard at the gate.

  “Most have been assigned to defend clean zones or are out on patrol around the perimeter defending the base against the constant attacks from the ABs. After the main base was firebombed, the ABs scattered and tried to escape. Most of them were killed, but there were many that escaped. Now the fighting breaks out daily,” the guard said. “The general gave orders that when you arrived, you s
hould go straight to his office.” He pointed to a silver building to the right of the runway as he opened the gate.

  As they drove through the gate and towards the building, Tara squeezed Blake’s hand. Once inside, they were hurried through a door to a small conference room filled with about twelve other soldiers and civilians. When the general entered the room, those who had been seated immediately stood.

  “Please find a seat, and we will begin,” he said. “I have been ordered by Western Command to mount a search and retrieval mission. From what our scientists tell us, there is a rare blood type called vel. It seems to have the potential to reverse or neutralize the ABs that have taken over half our population. We are at a critical turning point in this fight; if we don’t come up with a way to deal with the ABs, we believe that by the end of the year there won’t be many infected or uninfected left on the on this continent. Those left won’t have much to build on.

  “This is a mission where failure is not an option. Use all force necessary to retrieve the SEAL and bring him back here. He will then be transported out to the ship that is conducting the research.” The general gestured to the four Marines seated behind him. “These men are Lieutenants McBride, Jones, Helmandollar, and Seedall. They will be flying the two SuperCobra attack helicopters and providing fire cover for the two Hueys. Feel damn lucky we have them for this mission! We had to pull them off from the front line for this mission, which exposes more people to the infected masses. Second Lieutenant McBride will be in charge of the mission. I expect all of you to follow his orders.

  “As for the Huey copter pilots, we have Stanly Nelson. He has been flying for over twenty years in his field-spraying business. Next is Tara Reynolds. Tara, I served with your father many years ago; he was a damn good soldier. From what I hear, you used to be one of the best pilots we had before you retired.”

  Tara nodded in thanks.

  “The rest of you will be assigned to the two Hueys as ground support.”

  Blake stood. “I would request that I be placed on the chopper with Tara Reynolds.” The general just looked at Blake and was about to object but then nodded his head in consent.

  “The code name for the operation will be ‘Final Solution.’ It takes off in one hour. Get into your flight gear and prepare for takeoff.”

  Tara was escorted to the pilots’ fitting room to be suited up while Blake, Munns, and Private Johnson went to the armory to collect supplies such as grenades and ammunition. They didn’t know what to expect but wanted to be ready for anything.

  Blake stopped in to check up on Tara. When he walked in, he saw her smile as she pulled on her flight suit. She breathed in the aroma and felt the texture of the material. He could tell that she hadn’t realized until this moment how much she missed being part of the Marines and in an active combat situation.

  Tara, Blake, Munns, and Private Johnson walked to the fully fueled Hueys just as the other crews were finishing loading and preparing for takeoff. Blake and his men secured their supplies while Tara walked around the helicopter doing a quick flight check as the three soldiers strapped down their gear and buckled in.

  Lieutenant McBride’s voice broke the static on the radio as the whine of the engines started to move the giant rotors on top of the Huey. “I want this to be a tight formation. I will take the lead with my Cobra in the front. The other Cobra will trail in back. Be warned: There might be some small arms fire as we leave the base. The flight there should be relatively smooth, but the reports we’ve received from San Diego say they have heavy fighting and a lot of small arms fire with occasional rocket-propelled grenade attacks.”

  While the engines warmed up, each pilot entered the GPS coordinates into the navigation computer. As the group left the ground, Blake's stomach began to constrict with knots. A flood of memories came back to him about his tours in Iraq and Afghanistan.

  They hadn’t been in the air for more than a couple of minutes when they cleared the perimeter of the air base when they were taking a few rounds of small arms fire. The Cobras were on the attackers within seconds and fired several short bursts from their externally mounted machine guns. This stopped any further small arms fire.

  Blake’s breathing quickened as the adrenaline kicked in. “You boys OK back there?” Tara called over the radio.

  “Just another day in paradise,” Blake yelled back.

  The rest of the flight passed as predicted. Things seemed almost too calm as they flew over the gentle rolling countryside of the California coast. As they approached the outskirts of San Diego, there were puffs of smoke flowing up into the clear blue sky. Blake couldn’t tell what was causing the smoke but guessed that it was the fighting that was unfolding below them.

  As they flew within a few miles of the civic center, the air was filled with heavy smoke. He could make out figures running in all directions. Most appeared to be civilians, but there were a few soldiers mixed in. It was almost impossible to distinguish between friend and enemy. As they started to make their final approach, they were hit with small arms fire. The two SuperCobras covering them returned fire, and the shooting stopped.

  Lieutenant McBride’s voice came once again over the radio, occasionally interrupted by a burst of machine gunfire. “We will be over the target in less than two minutes. Hueys, you will land in the parking lot north of the civic center. We will remain in the air providing cover until you have retrieved the private or cleared the area.”

  As they neared the civic center parking lot, there was an occasional ping off the outer skin of the Huey. There was barely enough room in the parking lot for the two choppers to land. As the two choppers touched down, a small number of Navy SEALs dressed in combat gear ran out of the building with their guns raised.

  As they approached the choppers, they broke into two groups, taking flanking positions on each side of the choppers. The single remaining soldier slowly walked up to the choppers as the rotor slowly spun to a stop.

  Blake stepped out of the chopper with Munns and surveyed the surroundings. It was only a few seconds before the Lieutenant reached his position. After a quick salute, he stuck out his hand and said in an urgent tone, “Lieutenant William Larson, to what do we owe the honor of a visit from the Marines?”

  “Captain Blake Reynolds. I have orders to find and return with private Connor James. From the little I know, he might hold the key to solving this whole thing. Do you know him?”

  “Of course I know him! I know all the men under my command. He is a hell of a good fighter. But why would Command want him? How could he fix anything? He is only one man.”

  “I honestly don’t know, but we have our orders and not a lot of time.”

  Blake stuck his head back in the chopper just as Tara had finished unbuckling the seat harness to help with the mission. He shook his head. “Oh, no you don’t! I need you and Private Johnson to stay here and guard the choppers. I will tell the other pilots to do the same. If they don’t stay safe, this mission will fail.”

  Tara gave him the look. The one that says “I’m about to disagree with you in a major way.” Then she remembered that this wasn’t just her husband but now her commanding officer.

  “Three men and one girl might not be enough of a guard. We have been having perimeter breaches all morning long, and where you decided to park is on the northern perimeter of those breaches,” Lieutenant Larsen said as he shook his head.

  “Lieutenant, that girl is my wife, and we have a little daughter back at our base. I would hate to see anyone that would stand in her way of getting back to her!” he said with an icy stare.

  “Whatever you say, Captain!” Lieutenant Larson turned his back to Blake and called for his SEALs to follow him to the temporary evacuation zone headquarters.

  Once they entered the building, they climbed several flights of stairs until they reached the top and entered a large conference room. Blake quickly scanned the room and noticed no lights were on except for the communication equipment and a couple of laptop computers.
There were city maps all over the walls and one on the large table in the middle of the room.

  Lieutenant Larson walked to the front of the room followed by a female staffer. He pointed to the seats at the table. “Please be seated.

  “Just a little background for you before we start talking about your private. As you know, after the announcement that the infection would be hitting the U.S., the country was divided into districts. The Navy would be covering the San Diego district, the non-O blood type sailors and soldiers were ordered to North Island, where they were thought to be easily contained if and when they became infected. Only a hundred sailors were assigned to guard the San Diego-Coronado Bridge that leads to the island. They were guarding the bridge and patrolling the waters to make sure no one made it off.

  “The day before the infection hit the U.S., I was put in charge of clearing out a ten-block radius around the Civic Theater. I-5 on the north and east, the ocean on the west, and around the Padres ballpark to the south. I was assigned three large patrols to secure the perimeter. Things went well at first. Anyone who could prove they had blood type O was allowed into the evacuation zone, and all the other civilians were ordered to stay in their homes. Then the infection hit. At first, we had a few people inside the evacuation zone change. They must have forged their documents thinking it would be safer in the clean zone. As they turned, they were promptly disposed of, much to the objection of their family members. Within a few hours, floods of people were coming in through the perimeter gates seeking refuge. After a couple of hours, we had thousands of terrified civilians. At first, there were minor attacks from the ABs. But as time went on, the attacks became more numerous, and we had to draft every man, all women without children, and even some of the older teenagers to join the fight to keep our zone clear.”

  “At the end of the first day, we got word that the soldiers on the island had become organized. They didn’t seem to like the water, so they threw wave after wave at the guards on the bridge. Bodies were piling up so high that they started to slide off the sides of bridge and fall into the ocean. There were firefights breaking out everywhere. The fifty or so guards on the bridge finally just ran out of ammunition before they were able to get resupplied. The reinforcements didn’t come quickly enough, and men holding the bridge were forced to fall back. A quarter of the AB sailors and soldiers were able to escape off the island.