Chaos anw-1

by John O'Brien

  The storm continues to build and creates a gigantic wave of sand that begins rushing towards her. Lightning stabs out from the clouds striking the ground in all directions. The wave closes in quickly, gaining momentum with gusts that continue to rock her. They carry a new sound along with the booming crash of thunder as if the thunder is speaking words. With each lightning bolt the words come to her; ‘Sergeant;’ lightning flash, ‘Sergeant’; lightning flash……

  Feeling panicked, her eyes spring open to see the face of the Private on guard hovering close to hers lit by the cupped flashlight in his hand. “Sergeant,” he says rocking her shoulder slightly with his other hand.

  “I’m awake, Private. What is it?” Lynn asks sitting up and rubs the sleep from her eyes. She looks at her watch and notices it is 0330. Two hours until sunrise.

  “You asked me to wake you if any of the creatures came close. There are several of them milling around outside the fence.”

  “Did they notice you?” Lynn asks grabbing for her weapon lying on the ground next to her.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Okay, let’s take a look. Absolute silence,” Lynn says rising and stepping on the first rung of the roof stairs.

  On the roof, Lynn settles down on her belly and crawls slowly to the roof’s edge. Peering down onto the ramp, she sees five of the creatures close to the fence milling aimlessly. A couple of them seem interested in the Humvees parked a short distance away; looking in the windows. One even climbs onto the hood of one and seems to want to pull the windshield open using the windshield wipers. Two of them closest to the fence occasionally put their noses in the air.

  “Are they sniffing?” The Private asks in a quiet whisper next to her.

  Lynn turns slowly toward him and puts her finger to her lips. The Private nods. She looks back down at them and, to her; it does seem like they are sniffing at the air around them. Every minute or so, one will seem to catch a scent of something and hold a sniffing stance with a greater intensity as if trying to identify some scent or retrieve something that momentarily came to it. With a suddenness that is startling with its quickness and intensity, given the apparent aimless milling a moment before, one sniffing creature turns its head sharply in their direction and gazes intently up at them.

  Lynn knows they are in the darkness above and the glaring lights shining down on the creature have to be blinding it as to their location, but it is staring very intently and directly at them. Its body turns to orient it in their direction without ever moving its gaze from them one iota. Lynn senses more than hears, given the sound of the generator, growls emitting from the creature only fifty feet below. The growling attracts the attention of the others and they wander over to it and look upwards. Suddenly, all five of them stiffen and begin to emit loud, rumbling growls of their own and stare directly at the two of them perched high on the roof above.

  “Go wake Sergeant Drescoll,” Lynn tells the Private, “Go quietly and slowly. Fill the Sergeant in and then the both of you come here.”

  “What about the major?”

  “Forget him! Do as I ask!” Lynn says quietly but with authority.

  Without a sound, the Private slides backwards away from the edge. Lynn hears his footsteps ring lightly on the stairs as he descends but keeps her focus on the creatures as they continue to have a stare off. The situation and coolness of the night air sends a shiver along her body. The light goes off in her head; the cool air is sinking bringing their scent along with it. These things can hunt and detect by scent!?

  She edges away from the roof edge losing sight of the creatures. As she edges away, she turns her head toward the remaining soldier on the roof and whispers loud enough for him to hear, “Private, off the roof NOW!”

  In the darkness, she hears a rustling and sees his shadow move from his position facing the runway to the trap door. She descends quietly down the stairs after he has stepped off, shuts the trap door, and meets Sergeant Drescoll and the other Private at the bottom. She relates her discovery and sighting to all of them in whispered tones.

  A shriek rises from outside and the small group steps over the sleeping bodies toward the window facing the creatures outside. Several of those sleeping sit up quickly as the shriek penetrates their various dreams. Looking out of the window, Lynn sees that the creatures are now attempting to scale the wire fence.

  Without taking her eyes from outside, she says, “Sergeant Drescoll, wake the others.”

  She watches as the group of five creatures climbs the chain link fence and become entangled in the razor wire running along the top. From her position, she sees blood immediately spurt in a multitude of locations from the figures. All of them howl and shriek from the intrusion and decimation of their bodies but they continue on; all of them eventually fall to the perimeter inside in heaps. They do not move from where they have fallen but they have taken the razor wire in that section of fence down with them.

  The soldiers within the tower have all awakened either from the sounds outside or by Drescoll and crowd the interior of the control room attracted by the shrieking. Other creatures head in their direction in the night under the lights.

  Lynn turns from the window and addresses the group, “Five have knocked the razor wire down and others are heading this way. Everyone out on the walkway. Four to a side with two facing the runway and two facing towards camp. Sergeant Drescoll and I will be on the roof directing. You two,” Lynn says pointing at a Private and a Corporal nearby, “cover the flight of stairs.”

  She then turns to Major Bannerman, “If that is alright with you, sir.”

  “Carry on, Sergeant,” he responds with a nod.

  “Guns only. No grenades unless I say different. We don’t’ want to blow the fence down. Now move,” she says as her and Drescoll start for the steps leading up to the roof amid the sound of soldiers shuffling to and out of the door. The sound of magazines being inserted into weapons, clicks of safeties being switched off, and the ringing clatter of boots on the metal walkway momentarily fills the top of the tower.

  Helmets line the walkway just below her feet as Lynn stands on the roof looking out to the ramp below. Looking down over the tops of the helmets, she sees several creatures emerge out of the darkness in the middle of the ramp and into the light spilling from the tower. The things, which had been on the run, come to a stop once they step into the light. Some peer around them both into the shadows from which they emerged and around the tower base itself. Others peer into the bright lights streaming down; blinded by the intensity. Lynn knows the creatures are unable to see the soldiers and her on the roof and walkway due to them having to look through the lights. She kneels and whispers to the soldiers to hold their fire until she initiates or calls for it.

  Looking back over her shoulder, she whispers to Drescoll, “You take control of the front and other side; I’ll take the ramp side and rear.” She senses more than sees Drescoll nod.

  Looking down at the soldiers just below her, she sees them all standing by the railing with their weapons at their shoulders aiming downward at the creatures. The two at the head of the stairs kneel with the barrels of their M-16’s sighted down the stairs. More of the creatures emerge out of the darkness and into the light. Looking back into the encampment, she sees other groups run through the circles of light heading in their direction. Turning her eyes back towards the things on the ramp below her, she notices several of them with their noses in the air. She can imagine the sniffing sounds and perhaps growling noises they are most likely making but the drone of the generator is overriding any other sound. The sound of the occasional soldier below her shifting positions is the only other noise rising to her in the chill early morning air.

  Stillness settles over the environment as time comes to a standstill. The creatures stand still and test the air with soldiers staring back down at them with their weapons at the ready. Both groups are dressed in a similar fashion; the only difference being the color and shade of their skin and the creat
ure’s fatigues darkened from blood. More than thirty have gathered below with more showing up with each passing moment. Lynn notices one of the creatures below tense, turn its head directly in their direction, and stares upward. The other creatures stop their milling apparently picking up on the same thing that made this one tense up. The one staring at them suddenly opens its mouth wide and a shriek intrudes over the generator. It charges toward the fence with the others following suit, shrieking as they come.

  “Open fire!” Lynn yells before the creature has taken its second step.

  The sound of M-16’s opening up along the walkway and sending their deadly load into the mass splits the night, overriding the sound of the shrieks and generator emanating from below. Lynn sights down her M-16 just as the first sounds erupt from below her, the red dot centering on the chest of the creature who first charged their way. She squeezes the trigger adding her own steel to the other rounds drilling into the charging mass. Blood blossoms and sprays outward from the creature as her rounds impact directly into its center mass and it drops rudely to the ramp.

  Bodies drop repeatedly to the concrete as more rounds find their marks but the creatures rapidly gain the fence due to their vast numbers. They immediately begin scaling the chain links and, like the others before them, become entangled in the remaining razor wire. They fall to the ground inside the perimeter, dragging the razor wire with them.

  The fence looks as if it has sparklers attached to it as many of the rounds being fired come into contact with it as Lynn and the soldiers fire into the creatures scaling the metal links. Many of the things circle around the fence and the sound of gunfire erupts from behind her as Drecoll’s group takes them under fire.

  The air is filled with a myriad of sounds; the barking of M-16’s, the clink of magazines hitting the walkway as weapons are reloaded; the pinking sound of shells bouncing on the metal grating; the occasional shriek that rises above the din; the yells of Lynn and Drescoll as they direct fire; and, when sounds fade just for a split moment in time, the ringing sound of the chain link fence being scaled. The air is thick with the smell of gunpowder and the flash of weapons as the rounds leave the barrel. Bodies pile up on along the fence but the sheer numbers force entry into the perimeter; the weight of the creatures on the fence bends it over in places.

  The walkway and stairs prevents an angle to the ground directly below on the ramp side so the soldiers continue to direct their fire into those still coming into the light and on the fence.

  “They’re inside the perimeter!” Lynn turns and yells to Drescoll.

  He turns towards her from his kneeling position on the edge of the other side of the roof, “Here too!”

  “We don’t have an angle on them below from here because of the stairs,” she replies back.

  “We can hit them fine from here.”

  That’s good news, Lynn thinks as she turns back to the ramp side observing that they only seem to have one blind spot; the spot directly below the stairs and ladder. If they manage to somehow find a way to navigate those ten feet to the first stair level, they will not know they are coming until they round the last level and emerge on the landing directly below them or hear them coming up the metal stairs. Creatures continue to emerge into the lights circling the tower in unrelenting groups and waves.

  “Down to my last mag,” one of the soldiers calls out below her.

  Lynn immediately details one of the soldiers manning the stairs to grab ammo from the crates stacked in the office below. He returns a short time later and positions it behind the group on the walkway. The gunfire on the ramp side ceases momentarily as soldiers grab a resupply of magazines. She then details the same soldier to carry some of the ammo to Drescoll’s side. Weary and deafened from the continuous noise, Lynn notices the sky to the east lighten, portending the coming dawn. As if a switch was thrown, the multitudes of creatures stop emerging into the light and the ones that were inside the perimeter and shielded from the stairs, run out into the still darkened ramp, chased by rounds with a few dropping before finding the safety of the dark.

  “Cease fire!” Lynn calls as the last one is swallowed by the darkness. Sergeant Drescoll echoes her command to the group on his side.

  The silence that ensues is deafening in its quietness. Even the continued sound of the running generator is not heard through the ringing in everyone’s ears and the smell of almost two hours of continuous gunfire hangs thick in the still morning air. With her legs stiff and knees popping from the time spent kneeling on the metal roof, Lynn stands and reaches around to the small of her back, stretching to work out the kinks.

  “Police up whatever magazines you can find and meet inside,” she directs the soldiers below her.

  They wearily begin to scoop up the many empty magazines on a walkway littered with shell casings. Lynn continues standing above them and notices how truly cold the night air is as she starts coming down from the flow of adrenaline. With one last look at the bodies covering the ramp and the sky continuing to lighten in the east, she starts down the stairs behind Drescoll and the other soldiers begin their slow, shuffle-like steps into the control room.

  Details about what needs to be done in the coming day; fix the fence and gather additional ammo being among them, fills Lynn’s mind as everyone gathers in the control room. “It’s becoming fairly obvious that whatever changes have occurred with these, um, creatures only allows them to operate at night or in the dark. We’ll therefore only travel during the day and only in groups of four or more. Buildings will be treated as hostile environments and avoided as much as possible. If we need to go in, it will be completely cleared before gathering whatever is needed. If that is fine with you, sir?” She asks turning to Major Bannerman.

  “Good plan, Sergeant Connell.”

  “It’s 0525. We’ll stand down and rest until 0830 and then I’ll assign details. Besides the radio watch, we’ll stand two on watch in one hour shifts until 0830. Now get some rest,” Lynn says after assigning guards and shift schedules.

  She opts to take one of the first shifts setting up on the roof covering the ramp and camp sides while a Corporal covers the runway and far side. Sitting with her legs swinging over the side of the roof, she looks out over her area with part of her mind while another part sorts through the multitude of thoughts that race through.

  She holds onto the thought that Jack will come even as a logical part of her mind tells her the chances of that happening are marginal at best. She needs to ensure the safety and survivability of the group in her charge here. The camp will do for the short-term but if no one comes, they will need to move on for any chance of surviving in the long-term. That means a continuous supply of food, water, and shelter. To that end, it will mean a long, arduous journey; most likely to some land surrounding The Med and that more likely on the European side. For the first time, she thinks she may not see America again or that, if they are not picked up, it will be a long time coming. I’ll give it four more days before we start planning an alternate route, she thinks looking over to the western horizon with the sun rising in the east. A quick thought of Jack enters, Please be okay and come get us, before the short-term needs of the group preside.

  The hour passes and she lays down on the floor of the control room, after passing the next shift to another Private, falling asleep almost before her head touches the floor only to be awakened after seemingly minutes. Waking the rest of the group, she details a squad of four to commandeer additional ammo, some to repair the fence as best as possible, and others to cart the bodies to an open area of the camp. With that detail, she assigns a heavy equipment operator to dig out a grave site to bury the bodies after collecting all of the dog tags she can. Her sense is that these were all once soldiers causing her to give them as close to a decent and military burial as possible.

  Once the bodies have been interred, she gathers the entire group together in the early afternoon sun and heat to pay their last respects. The fence is resurrected as much as possible
with a fresh lining of razor wire both on top and on the ground below. Ammunition is gathered and resupplied to the tower. The generator is filled with diesel. After the burial ceremony, Lynn has the group rest until the early evening anticipating a replay of the night before.

  During the day, Private Turnbull came down with a fever. Lynn inspected the wound on his arm to find that the immediate area around the wound had become the same pale shade of gray of the creatures with a surrounding bright redness of infection. The fever became worse as the day progressed and by nightfall, Private Turnbull was dead.

  The next two days and nights are replays of the first ones; resupplying, resting and burying the dead during the day and fighting off the attacks at night. Is this live or Memorex? Lynn thinks during the third night. The creatures show up under the light in gradual numbers and overwhelm the fences; only to be halted and not being able to gain entrance to the stairs by the coming of dawn. How many can there be? The question passes through her tired mind as the rising sun chases off the last attack. The radios however remain silent as had any answering of telephone calls to the outside world.

  The fourth day dawns as had the previous mornings. The sun rises in the east signaling yet another heat-infested day filled with the tedium of staying alive for yet another day. Lynn gathers her mind and thoughts towards vacating the area for a more survivable, long-term solution. The thoughts of their need to conduct a long, arduous journey and what they will need to accomplish this fills the majority of her day. Tomorrow she will begin to enact their withdrawal of the area and to create the criteria of their new destination. Tomorrow I will worry about that, she thinks as the sun begins its descent into the western horizon. Where are you Jack?

  With the thought of the last night in camp, Lynn stays with the guard detail posted for the first shift and watches the gathering of the first creatures around the tower. The difference between this and other nights is the quickness of the gathering. The fence perimeter is quickly overwhelmed with many of the creatures gathering at the base of the tower on the ramp side. Some complacency, due to the tiredness of the troops, follows a seemingly repeat of the previous evenings; doing enough to exact damage and a depletion of the creatures without them being able to gain entrance.