Infected World Trilogy (Books 1-3): They Only Come Out At Night

by Guenther, David

  Fields was bleeding out from a gunshot to his leg as Barclay was trying to use his shirt as a tourniquet to stop the bleeding. The smell of blood and urine was as strong as the fear that both men were awash in. Caleb pulled out his automatic and his two magazines from his belt. He handed them to Barclay, “They can’t get a shot at you as long as they stay by the bunker, once they use their brains and move to the side to get you in a crossfire, you’re dead. So try to keep their heads down.” Barclay looked at the weapon like it was going to bite him. Before he could say anything, Caleb jumped up and rushed towards the bunker. Caleb’s anger faded away as he felt at peace, he was running all out, yet his shots were striking close to the shooter as he closed in. He felt elation at seeing a red mist erupt from the shooter’s head. That was the moment he felt himself being slugged in the shoulder, then feeling like he ran into a clothesline as he recoiled backwards, slamming his head to the pavement.

  SSgt Barclay was shocked into action after watching the lieutenant get hit. He tried to look around the side of the pallet only to be fired upon again as bullets slammed into the cases of ammo. Ohgodohgodohgod, I didn’t sign up for this shit! He thought to himself as he really wanted to pee.

  “Sergeant Barclay! Sergeant Barclay, can you hear me?” The shooter shouted.

  Barclay thought he was saved at first until he realized it was the shooter calling him. He wanted to keep quiet and play dead so he was surprised when he heard himself answering. “What the hell do you want, traitor?”

  “I want to let you live. I’m only here for the ammo. If Omar had followed the plan, no one would have been hurt. My team should be here any moment to get our supplies. Just pick up Fields and walk away. We’re too far for you to get to anyone before we get what we want and take off. Be reasonable for Fields’ sake.”

  “Fields is doing fine, and I don’t trust you as far as I can spit you, you son of a bitch! I’ll just stay put here and keep you from getting anything at all. They’ll send someone to look for us when we don’t get back to the flight line.” Barclay shouted back, not believing his own words. His breath began to feel ragged and water filled the back of his throat as he heard the unmistakable sound of a heavy diesel engine coming up the access road. A civilian semi was downshifting as it neared the fallen fence.

  “Too bad Barclay, the option is off the table” the shooter fired a full magazine to keep his head down as he slowly walked towards the pallet. Every time Barclay tried to raise his head, another burst of automatic fire made him duck down even further. He began to pray, tears running down his face as the gunman taunted him to raise his head.

  Everything felt like it was underwater, he hurt everywhere as he tried to figure out what he was waking up from. The sound of an M4 on full auto brought him back to the present. Opening his eye, he could see the gunman walking to the pallet, firing as he walked. Pain racked his body as he tried to rise. Instead he fell back again, pulling his M4 to his good shoulder and taking aim on the gunman. Caleb’s first shot went into the man’s ankle and he fell, screaming. He then emptied the rest of his magazine into the man’s crotch and upper legs before the carbine dropped the couple inches to the ground from his hands and passed out.

  Barclay witnessed the action and turned to face the semi that had now stopped and was disgorging half a dozen men. Screw this, he thought as he sighted in on the driver of the rig through the large windshield. He made sure to squeeze the trigger as he’d been trained years ago. The cab of the truck exploded in a dazzling mix of orange flames and black smoke. Half the men near it were cut down by the exploding truck’s shrapnel. A wave of heat washed over him from the explosion as he ducked his head. He looked up as he heard the throaty growl of a SAW tear into the survivors, their bodies jerking from the impact until everything was quiet, the only sound being the sizzling and snap from the burning truck as the fire grew hotter.

  “SSgt Barclay. Please slide the pistol away from yourself, please.” Barclay looked around and couldn’t see who was shouting at him. He looked down on the pistol in his hand as if for the first time and saw a red dot moving around on top of his hand. His initial confusion moved to shock and then anger, before he felt the fear from the realization he was someone’s target. He slid the pistol far enough away that he might be able to grab it if needed. He really needed to piss.

  “SSgt Barclay, make no movement at all until I get there and give you my personal permission, up close and personal like.” Barclay slowly lay back with his arms away from his body and just stared up at the clouds wondering at what type of animal it was the cloud reminded him of and would he be dead in the next few minutes?

  “You can get up now, Staff Sergeant. How is Airman Fields?” The Staff Sergeant walked by him without waiting for an answer, heading over to Caleb. He looked at the amount of blood that was pooled around Caleb’s body and the obvious entry wound between his chest and shoulder. He shook his head in disappointment and began to move towards the bunker when he heard the raspy breathing and the chest moving. He dropped to his knees and pulled out his first aid kit. He tore at the uniform top to get a better view of the wound before packing it with gauze. Further examination showed where the bullet had exited at the top of the lieutenant’s shoulder. “That was a nice tumbling act with the bullet you got there, LT. I wonder if you’ll ever use your arm again,” he said to the passed out man before him.

  Barclay was surprised when a first aid kit was dropped at his side. He looked up at a Specialist standing over him, holding a M249 light machine gun. He was more concerned with keeping an eye out for trouble than assisting with first aid. He then noticed another soldier examining the wreck of the truck, a tricked out M4 at his side with a smaller gun under the barrel. He was going to ask the specialist what it was when Fields started to come around.

  “Staff Sergeant Winters, it looks like the pooch has been royally screwed. What are your orders?” Barclay looked at the man talking and thought he was nuts until he saw the tiniest headset. “Yes, Staff Sergeant, I’ll ask.”

  “What are the odds of loading up the flat bed with ammo?” Barclay thought for a moment, not sure if these were good guys or more bad guys, but made the call.

  “I can carefully load the pallets, without tie down straps or netting, then drive it to the plane where that can be done. If you can work on Fields, I need one man to help me. I can have the pallets ready in under a half hour.” The Specialist listened for a minute, then softly spoke into his lip mike.

  “Go over to Staff Sergeant Winters,” the specialist’s voice became a little softer, “I’ll do all I can for your man Fields.”

  “Okay if I recover my weapon? I’m feeling a little naked out here.” The specialist nodded as he dropped to his knees to replace him at Field’s side.

  Winters was finishing up on his first aid on Caleb when Barclay came up alongside him. “Your LT is tough, but he’s lost a lot of blood. I wish we had a full kit to try and treat him, maybe there’ll be something on the plane to help. Once we have the ammo loaded, we’ll get both men to the plane ASAP.”

  “Staff Sergeant Winters, we can get the pallets on the flatbed quick and easy. Have you ever helped with building pallets before?” Winters grimaced.

  “I’ve deployed too many times, and helped throw crap on pallets, but then our experts finished the job for us.”

  “The roads from here back to the base, and the flightline are flat and easy to navigate. I should be able to do it without strapping down the pallets. They may shift. If they do, then all bets are off. When I lift a pallet, I need you to take the three 4X4 boards that are under it and move them to the flatbed in the same position. They’re there to make room for the skids from the forklift to get under the pallet and then to get out from under the pallet. Any questions?”

  “Let’s get this done, Staff Sergeant.” Winters replied. Barclay rushed over to the bunker and strapped on his body armor and gear, thankful for the protection and the water as he drank deeply. Barclay tried not to loo
k at the other piles of gear still on the ground next to where he had just grabbed his.

  Climbing into the forklift, he felt like a target as he fired up the engine, sitting exposed above the others in the driver’s seat. Lifting the pallet the minimum height necessary, Barclay waited as he watched the Staff Sergeant jog over to the flatbed with the 4X4s until he grabbed the last one. Barclay then slowly and cautiously backed up the forklift, going slowly as he could feel the machine wanting to bounce with its heavy load. Backing up to the truck, he turned slowly until the truck was in front of him. Winters appeared at his side and shouted and gave hand signals, motioning him forward. When he was given the signal to lower the pallet, he climbed out and checked out the 4X4s and the space for the first pallet. He moved them slightly to the right before climbing back in and moving the forks to the right before lowering the pallet. Those around him were visibly tense and he felt the same way, even though he’d some similar tasks thousands of times. He gave the machine gas and sped quickly to the next pallet, bouncing along the way.

  Barclay felt like he’d been wrung out as he pulled away from delivering the last pallet. Winters and the rest of his team had policed the bodies and were leaving them in the bunker before securing it. Fields was on his back, propped up on his elbows, sipping water. He nodded in acknowledgment for the job his boss had just done. Winters and the specialist placed Caleb on a small wooden pallet and began to pick him up when Barclay drove over, slid the forklifts arms closer together and gently slid the forklift arms under the wooden pallet. The unconscious lieutenant looked pale but was still breathing. He willed the forklift to be smooth as he raised the arms and slowly headed for the truck with his precious cargo.

  The semi was almost to the remains of where the gate had been when Winters ordered Barclay to stop. He saw movement from the grass as a soldier carrying a long rifle popped up and ran for the back of the flatbed where the rest of the team was riding. “Always want to have insurance.” Winters said jovially, the feeling of pressure starting to recede.

  Chapter 16

  Luke AFB, Arizona. April 5, 2029

  Gloria watched the school from the road to the south of it. She could see kids running around playing in the grass with a couple mothers keeping an eye over them. On the tops of the buildings she could see occasional movement as sentries walked their beats. She reached for her radio and realized for the first time it was missing and had no clue where it had been lost. She could feel before she saw the Stryker pull out from the housing development. It just felt powerful from the distance, even without the 30mm automatic cannon pointed in her direction.

  Climbing out of the truck, she gave a little wave at the Stryker and the gun turned to the side, making her breathe a little easier. Well, at least there wasn’t a coup while I was out. She thought, and then wondered about the possibility. The Stryker rumbled up alongside her, then shut down. The quiet felt unnatural for some reason. She could faintly make out the sounds of the kids playing as the hatch noisily popped open.

  “Hey LT, welcome back.” He noticed all the boxes in the back of the truck. “Have a nice day of shopping? I like your new ride.” Gloria couldn’t resist smiling back at the young man above her in the hatch.

  “Was a beautiful day at the mall, no crowds at all though there was some trouble on the trip back.” She thought for a moment about the human trash on the base. “You have any much ammo for that?” She pointed to the 30mm cannon.

  “No Ma’am, we’re Winchester. A big bad gun like that though is deterrence in itself, as long as no one calls our bluff.”

  “Um, okay. Carry on and stay safe.” She watched the Stryker move back into the housing development out of sight while she headed back to the school. Gloria was greeted at the side entrance to the school compound and drove over to the building being used to store supplies.

  “Good afternoon, Ma’am.” The man did his best to jump to attention when he saw Gloria enter. She guessed his age to be at least seventy. The old warrior was so skeletal he reminded her of newsreels of WWII POWs that had been liberated by American troops.

  “At ease, what have they got you doing in here, Mr…?” Gloria queried.

  “Ma’am, I’m Staff Sergeant Melton. Like all the useless crap they stuck in here, they figured it was a good place to stash me.” Gloria felt sorry for the ghost of a man before her that just wanted to contribute one more time. The old man looked almost comical in a set of gray velour sweat pants and shirt with white socks and open toed sandals. Behind him shelves were full of textbooks and assorted paper products.

  “SSgt Melton, I’d like for you to go out to my truck and assemble yourself a complete uniform. If you have a problem wearing boots, then find some subdued socks to wear with your sandals. After you have done that, I want you to assemble a work detail to clear out the storage room of anything we don’t need. Then you are to organize and store the supplies I just brought back. You will be responsible for inventory and issue of all personal supply items. I want everyone to have two sets of uniforms. If they already have uniforms, then they don’t need any more. Are you up to it?” The old man’s face went from shock to pleasure.

  “Lieutenant Alban, I’ll have this place as STRAC as any place I was ever stationed in my twenty-four years.” The man seemed to be standing taller and looking less frail.

  “Thank you, SSgt Melton. Since I’m not an Army old timer, I have to ask, what does STRAC mean? I’ve heard it before.”

  “Ma’am, STRAC is STRictly ACcording to regulations. I’ll have this place running old school in no time.”

  “Carry on, Sergeant.” Gloria felt she’d done her good deed for the day. Others could always fix the mess if there was a problem. Stepping back outside, she was glad she had her shades. She decided she’d better check in with Technical Sergeant Muller.

  Entering the main building from the campus door, she realized she was still fairly unfamiliar with where everything was, if she had an office, and if so, where the hell is it?

  “Gloria, I’m so glad to see that you’re back.”Pastor Hilton approached from the side hallway. “After our meeting this morning, I realized you’d need some place to administer your troops from. Let me take you to your office. Since the admin building is already fully setup, I put you in Building 2,Room 203, a classroom. I have a couple desks in there already and Willy seemed happy with it.”

  “That all sounds fine, Pastor Hilton. Who is Willy?” Gloria asked, confused.

  “Please call me Rebecca or Becky. That’s your Sergeant Muller. I guess you really haven’t had time to get to know everyone that works for you. Here we are. If you need anything, sweetie, just let me know.” Becky gave Gloria a hug and strolled back the way they had come.

  Gloria frowned when she saw the sign ‘Stallion Militia’ and under it ‘1Lt Gloria Alban, Commanding Officer’ She opened the door and was pleasantly surprised with her new office. A desk sat only a few feet inside. A row of chairs made it impossible to go by the desk unnoticed. Behind the desk sat a couple of gunmetal gray four drawer file cabinets. In the back of the room was another identical desk with a flag hanging from the wall behind it. There was also another door to the hallway and a sink with a small stainless steel water fountain.

  Gloria could feel the presence of someone nearby. The person was apprehensive, but not a threat. She could hear footsteps in the hallway coming her way. She looked out and saw Technical Sergeant Muller coming with a tray of food. Her stomach started to protest.

  Muller looked up, startled when he saw his lieutenant staring at him hungrily. “Um, welcome back Lt Alban. I just stepped out for a moment to get some dinner. Does the office meet with your approval, ma’am?”

  “You did an outstanding job here, Willy. You sit down and eat your dinner before it gets cold. I’m going to follow your lead and get a plate myself. I’m hungry enough to eat a Z.” Muller watched her leave the office in minor shock. He’d pleased her, and she knew his first name. Her stock rose in his opinion.
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  Gloria noticed most of the rooms were empty as she walked towards the distant exit. The building would be perfect to move all the troops into and setup a radio in the room next to her office. There was no reason why their supplies couldn’t be stored in the same building as well as set up the armory there. How much of a headache am I looking towards to try and take the entire building, not to mention drafting people into my command, she thought, walking a little faster as her hunger began to exert itself again.

  The food on her desk was better than an MRE, a large plate of macaroni and cheese with a couple large slices of spam. She took a swig from the can of Coke that came with the meal, suddenly realizing she had no appetite. The team had not returned from retrieving ammo and the prospects of running her own small command was beginning to overwhelm her as she was not sure what she should do next. Then she began to flash back on the scum who had captured her earlier in the day and she felt dirty and disgusted.

  Technical Sergeant Muller seemed to be flying as he performed tasks he thought needed to be done. Already there were papers on her desk for all the troops in her command, except for those who went out on the ammo run. The feeling of being dirty finally made her act. “Willy, I’ll be back in half an hour.” Not elaborating, she headed for her RV instead of the room they had made for her. Entering the RV initially made her feel like some of the weight had been lifted from her shoulders until she stepped in the bedroom and stood transfixed looking at the bed where little Oliver had laid down so quietly without any complaints and died from lack of treatment for his diabetes. She had awakened in the morning next to him and thought the boy had wet the bed and she was horrified to discover he had died in his sleep. She quickly tried to block him from her mind as she stripped down and went to use the shower. She was happy to discover the water coming out was hot as she cranked the hot water as high as she could stand it.