AB (The Blake Reynolds Chronicles Book 1)

by Landon, Bret Dee

  Munns was finally able to get a shot at the final sniper further up the street, but he couldn't tell if he killed him or not. There were a few ABs still rushing across the street, and he quickly took them out.

  Blake quickly made his way to the back door and stopped next to the AB that he had just dropped.

  “U.S. Marines, U.S. Marines! Hold your fire – I’m coming in.”

  Blake brought his rifle to his shoulder and quickly scanned the hallway for any ABs before he entered. He quickly ran through the door and took cover behind a large file cabinet with a copier on top.

  “Lieutenant, you in here?”

  “Yeah, we are in here,” came a weak voice from down the hallway.

  “What is your status?”

  “Most of us have been hit; the wounded are holed up in this conference room. I think we still have one soldier guarding the front entrance.”

  “Stay where you are. We will make our way to you.”

  By this time the Navy lieutenant and Private Jenkins had made their way into the building and were standing next to him.

  “Start doing a room-to-room sweep. I think there are still a few of those bastards in here. And be careful; we don’t want to take out any of our own men,” Blake said.

  Blake watched as the lieutenant peered around the front door; he saw a body duck behind the desk in the lobby. The lieutenant whistled a signal, which was the sign of the day to identify friend or foe. When he got no reply, he opened fire. After a short burst from his gun, the table was kindling, and a bloody pool started to form around the body of the AB. After a quick scan of the room, the lieutenant yelled, “Front clear!”

  “Copy that,” Blake replied.

  Blake remembered that when he had entered the building, he thought he had seen three bodies moving around in the smoke and dust. He knew one had just been taken out up front.

  Blake made a hand gesture for Jenkins to sweep the rooms on the right. He would take the ones on the left.

  Blake turned his attention to Jenkins, who was sweeping the small hallway to the west. As the private entered the room he was met with handgun fire. Jenkins ducked behind the wall and pulled a grenade from his vest, pulled the pin, and shouted, “You want some of this?” He tossed it in the room.

  Blake scowled at him. “Stow that shit and keep your head in the game!” he ordered. He heard the moans of wounded men coming from a room ahead of him. “We’re almost there. Hang on!” he said.

  “Copy that,” someone from the room replied quietly.

  From one of the side hallways, a man charged towards them holding a pistol in each hand. He fired through the door the wounded were hiding behind. Blake promptly rolled into the hallway and laid down a quick burst of suppressive fire. The man stared at Blake in confusion then down at his wounds. He slowly fell backwards and fell to the floor. His head bounced with a dull thud as the blood trickled out of his mouth and nose.

  Blake slowly walked to the enemy lying on the ground to make sure he was dead, or at least dying. With the AB’s last breath, he muttered something almost inaudible, which caused Blake stomach to turn: “For the honor and glory of the cause!”

  Blake had heard similar things in Afghanistan when he fought the Taliban. He decided to do a quick sweep of the rest of the rooms to distract his mind, and he realized the building was clear.

  Blake quickly stuck his head out the door to make sure Lieutenant Western was still covered outside and that there were no other ABs heading their way. He gave a quick glance up to Munns’s position, and Munns assured him it was all clear.

  Blake entered the room with the wounded soldiers. He knew two of them were still in fighting shape, but the other two were badly wounded and wouldn’t be going anywhere without considerable assistance.

  “Which one of you is Ensign Connor James?”

  A burly, tough SEAL with a flesh wound on his arm was treating some of his fellow soldiers. “That would be me,” he said. “You certainly saved our asses. Another couple of minutes and we would have been history. What are the Marines doing out here anyway?”

  “I have orders to retrieve you and take you to our waiting helicopter back at your base. Then we are to transport you to our base near Camp Pendleton.”

  The young SEAL glared. “The hell you are. My team needs me here. You Marines can handle things yourself up north.”

  Suddenly, Ensign James’s commanding officer stepped into the room. “Gentlemen, what is the hold up in here? We have major movement coming our way about half a mile out. If we don’t get the hell out of here in the next five minutes, we won’t be leaving any time soon.” He assessed the wounded and the private thoroughly. “James, these Marines are here to take you back to their base. Someone thinks you somehow hold the cure to the apocalypse. You need to get out of here now with these Marines.”

  “Bullshit! I won’t leave you all here to die while I scurry out with my tail between my legs with these jarheads. We all get out of here, or none of us do.”

  The lieutenant grinned and shrugged his shoulders towards Blake. Blake could tell he wasn’t going to get the private out of there, so he returned the lieutenant’s gaze with his arm stretched out. “Give me your radio. I might have a solution to all of our problems.”

  Suddenly, a private burst into the room. “We have a problem!” he said between breaths. “It looks like a hundred ABs are heading our way. They’ll have us surrounded within minutes!”

  “We need to get the hell out of here!” Blake thought. He ran to the front of the building and got on the radio. “Lieutenant McBride, do you copy?” He was hoping the helicopter pilots were still listening to their radios on the assigned frequency for the mission.

  “This is McBride. What is your status?”

  “Lieutenant, we are in some deep shit. We found Ensign James, but there are wounded here, and if we don’t have air support in the next five minutes there won’t be anyone left to rescue. We are five blocks due west of the ballpark in a police station.”

  The radio went silent for a few seconds before he heard the reply. “Reynolds, we can be there in eight minutes. Can you pop smoke to signal your location?”

  “Will do. Hurry, we’ll be engaging the enemy with superior forces in less than five.”

  “Copy, out.”

  Blake turned to Munns on the roof. He then pressed the mic on his radio. “Munns, what is our status?”

  “I’ve been watching the approaching enemy through my scope. There are a couple hundred ABs heading this way, and about half seem to be armed with guns. The rest are carrying clubs or knives. They should have us surrounded in a few minutes.”

  “We will have air support in seven minutes. Keep us covered until then,” Blake said. Munns nodded and positioned his gun.

  Blake reached for the smoke grenade on his belt, pulled the pin, and threw it onto the roof of the police building. He hurriedly ran back inside to devise a defensive plan. With there being two critically wounded soldiers, he decided to set up a defense in the police station instead of taking on the attackers in the streets.

  The three SEALs, including the one who had been wounded, took up positions at the front. The three Marines went to the back. Blake glanced down the hallway and shouted, “Remember, James has to survive at all costs!”

  James glanced at the others uncomfortably, and Blake looked at his watch. Six minutes. He walked to the back window across the parking lot and noticed movement.

  Two AB women carrying pipes and a tall, thin man with a hunting rifle ran forward to take cover behind some trees. He also saw more movement behind them.

  Blake brought the scope of his rifle to his eye. The other three Marines did the same. “Take out the ones with the guns first.” Swiftly, the familiar sound of Munns’s sniper rifle broke the silence outside.

  That seemed to be the signal for infected and uninfected alike to take action. Twenty ABs charged at the door from across the parking lot and were covered by four men firing guns from the tre
e line. The bullets were striking the walls behind them as they came through the windows. The air filled with drywall, dust, and stucco.

  Blake placed the crosshairs of his scope on the center of the body of the AB that shot at them from the closest tree. He let out his breath and slowly squeezed the trigger. At first, he thought he missed because bark from the tree flew everywhere. However, he watched as the AB fell to the side. The other two Marines hit their marks as well.

  By this time, the ABs that were charging their door were within a few feet. The first half dozen were taken out by a short burst of M-16 fire, but there were so many that they started to come in the front door and window. The magazine in Blake’s M-16 quickly emptied, and he dropped his rifle and drew his pistol.

  Two quick shots and the first two through the door were dead. The same thing happened for one of the other Marines. The third had a gun jam just as three short ABs flew through the window. Two had clubs and one a short sword. The third soldier was using his rifle to defend himself against their blows. Blake turned his pistol their way but didn't dare fire for fear of hitting his own man.

  “Keep watch over the back!” Blake yelled as he drew his knife. He made short work of the three that were trying to attack his man. A quick glance at his watch reminded him that there were three more minutes before the choppers arrived.

  All of a sudden, a blood-curdling yell came from the front. Blake had heard this sound before when a man he knew had a body part blown off in battle.

  There were only a few ABs still charging the back door, so Blake yelled at his men, “Keep them out!” He ran to the front. The lieutenant stayed on the ground, cradling the bloody stump that used to be his left shin. He was doing the best he could to put a tourniquet above the knee to stop the bleeding, and Blake noticed that one of the other privates was on the ground and not moving.

  Two men were shooting continuous fire to keep the ABs from overrunning the front door, and Blake hurriedly poked his head around the large front window. He saw AB bodies everywhere, so he assumed they launched most of their attack at the front. He could hear Munns continually firing from the rooftop but knew they’d be out of ammunition soon.

  James had taken position where his fallen lieutenant had been. Blake cursed under his breath when he noticed James in the line of fire, but he admitted to himself that he admired his courage.

  Small arms fire constantly flew through the large window and struck the walls around them. Blake drew his pistol as the ABs entered the large window. Three quick shots and three more ABs fell to the ground. He glanced at his watch again quickly. "Two more minutes," he thought.

  “Last clip!” someone yelled.

  Blake glanced over to him. “Make every shot count!”

  In the distance, Blake could hear the welcomed sound of helicopters in the distance. “Thank God!” Blake thought. He knew he just heard the ‘last clip’ call from just about everyone. He glanced at his watch again. One minute.

  Looking out the front window, Blake's heart sank. There were another hundred ABs amassing for one last push to destroy them. On command from a large man in the back, they started to charge. The three remaining soldiers covering the front window opened fire. However, it wasn’t long before he started to hear the clicks of empty guns from his men and gunfire coming from the back of the building. All the men in the front had spent all of their rifle bullets and began to fire their handguns.

  Just as the pistols ran out of bullets, the Cobra gunships appeared over the building. One took a position above the front and the other in the back. The Cobras started firing, and bullets flew everywhere. The air was filled with pieces of broken asphalt and flesh. Within seconds, nearly all the ABs on the road were dead or fleeing. Five of the ABs made their way through the door and window, and they had their knives out. But even an AB drone was no match for trained Marines and Navy SEALs; the soldiers took them out quickly.

  Blake and the others covering the front and the back all started shouting with joy at the same time. It only lasted a few seconds before Blake was planning their next move.

  Blake yelled at his men covering the back, “What is your status?”

  “All clear for now,” a loud, tired voice replied.

  Everything else looked all clear, so Blake got on the radio to have the Hueys land and evacuate his men and the wounded.

  As the Hueys cleared the trees for the final approach, the first rocket-propelled grenade was fired at the Cobras hovering above the police station. The explosion smashed the tail rotor, and it immediately went into a tailspin. Lieutenant McBride was immediately on the radio.

  “We’re hit, we’re hit!” His microphone was left on, and Blake could hear warning sirens blasting in their cabin.

  Blake watched as the Cobra started to spin hard, and the tail rotor bent in a strange angle without turning. The Cobra started to spin faster and faster without its tail rotor to counteract the rotation on the top. At first it spun in circles and made its way down the road then fell from the sky.

  “That must be a damn good pilot to keep than thing from coming down on this building,” Blake thought to himself.

  The Cobra in the back climbed a hundred feet to provide cover fire and clear the tree line of any remaining enemies that might want to fire another round. Within seconds, there were no more trees standing to provide cover to the enemy as they were mowed down by the fifty-caliber bullets at 120 rounds per second.

  Just as the Cobra made a difficult emergency landing fifty yards up the street, Munns’s voice came across the radio.

  “Um, guys? You might want to hurry it up. We have more incoming… hundreds. About thirty seconds out.”

  Blake grabbed the radio. “Tara, Nelson, do you copy?”

  A couple of second later, Tara’s soft voice came over the radio. “I copy.”

  “We need the Hueys to land in front of the building now! We have five wounded and the crew of the Cobra to evacuate. We have less than twenty seconds before we will be overrun by ABs,” Blake said frantically.

  “Copy.”

  Within seconds, the Hueys landed in the front parking lot. At the same time, the cobra was flying in circles to provide cover over the entire operation. It continued to fire bursts at some unseen enemy.

  Blake got on the radio. “Cobra One, do you copy?”

  “We copy, but our bird won’t fly anymore.”

  “Get your asses back here, and we will evacuate you with the others.”

  “Listen, Captain Reynolds… We might not be able to fly, but we aren’t out of the fight yet. We have a clear line of sight down the street. We might be able to buy you a minute if we hold this position.”

  “Roger. Hold as long as you can then get the hell out of there!” It was only a few seconds later when Blake heard the sound of gunfire coming from where the chopper had come down.

  Blake yelled to his men in the back, “Come up and help load the wounded onto the choppers. Load the wounded on the east chopper, and Ensign James should be put on the west one. That way, the wounded can be taken to their base for immediate treatment.”

  Soldiers started to scramble and carry out their orders.

  Blake quickly looked inside the west chopper. Tara was making sure that everyone was secure. She noticed Blake and gave him a quick smile. In a life-threatening situation like this, he was easily reminded why he fell in love with her.

  James was strapped in, and Blake knew that was what was most important. The crew of the downed Cobra up the street had been firing for the last minute or so, but the ABs there were starting to spill around the chopper.

  “Gentlemen, you might want to hurry. We’re down to our last hundred rounds, and you have about ten seconds before you are overrun,” the Cobra flying above radioed.

  “McBride, get out of there!” Blake yelled through the radio.

  The two pilots in the downed Cobra started to sprint toward the waiting Hueys, but before they could get more than a few steps away, they were tackled by AB
hoards and disappeared under the bodies that were crawling over them.

  Blake turned away. He knew there was nothing they could do; he ordered the Hueys to take off. As soon as they cleared the top of the building, they started to take small arms fire.

  Munns had been keeping watch on the building across the street. Blake lowered a rope and a harness down to him so he could be picked up as they flew over. As he hauled Munns up, he could hear the bullets pinging off the side of the Huey.

  The crew of the Cobra broke the silence on the radio. “We’re out! I’ll try and stay between the ABs and the Hueys to provide some cover until you are clear.”

  Blake held the radio tightly. He was astonished by the courage of the soldiers and pilots.

  Munns secured the harness on the end of the rope around his waist. “Go!” he yelled.

  The Huey started to rise along with the Cobra, and the other Huey with the wounded started smoking badly from all the rounds that had hit them.

  Nelson, the pilot of the other Huey, once again broke the silence on the radio. “Guys, bad news… I’m not going to be able to make it back to base. I’m going to try for the parking lot at the stadium. Get the hell out of here so this wasn’t for nothing!”

  Blake could only hope that this private was worth all of their sacrifices. He then clicked the button on his radio. “Copy that. Good luck.”

  Their Huey and the Cobra headed north while the other smoking Huey headed west. Blake followed them with his eyes until they dropped below the horizon. He silently prayed that they made it.

  Day 10: Lieutenant McBride/Sir

  Lieutenant McBride woke up in a dark, musty room. Only a small amount of light showed through a crack in the window. His heart was pounding, and the taste of blood was strong in his mouth. He slowly tried to open his eyes, but only one eyelid would open; the other was too swollen. At first, everything was blurry. He couldn’t distinguish any shapes in the room. He made a quick assessment of his condition while his vision returned. He sat in a chair, his hands tied to the armrests. He could barely breathe, which he assumed was due to some broken ribs.