Whiskey Tango Foxtrot (Escaping the Dead)

by Lundy, W. J.

  If you find this note please give it to the nearest NATO ISAF military units for a reward.

  Signed,

  SFC Turner

  Brad read the note and walked back to Méndez and Eric. He handed the note to Méndez and watched him read it silently. “Oh shit, this is bad man,” Méndez mumbled.

  “Let’s get back in the truck so I can think,” Brad said. They mounted the MRAP and sat quietly while Brad stared at the note.

  “Sergeant, there is a haboob coming from up the road,” said Cole.

  Brad looked up and saw a large gathering sandstorm, and ordered Cole to close the hatch.

  As the sandstorm got close Brad looked at it through his binos and saw that it wasn’t a storm at all, but a mob of at least a thousand coming down the Hairatan road.

  “Shut off the engine Henry, everyone lock the doors and get down,” Brad yelled.

  “What are we doing Sergeant? Why don’t we run?” asked Henry.

  “We don’t have time. I think if we are quiet they will go past us. They didn’t touch the abandoned MRAP. If we are lucky and keep our mouths shut they will go right by.”

  The mob hit them, but not with the violence of their first encounter. They didn’t seem to move as fast when they weren’t chasing prey. They walked quickly but not at the speed they saw earlier. They were clumsy and Brad could hear them bumping against the heavy armored vehicle. A couple even climbed up and over the truck, but none looked inside the darkened interior. It took 15 minutes for the herd to pass and another 20 minutes for the stragglers to go by.

  Brad slowly lifted himself from the vehicle floor. The inside of the truck had gotten extremely hot with the windows closed and the AC turned off. He raised his head up and looked as best he could in a 360 to make sure they were alone. When he was certain, he gave the all clear and told Henry to fire up the engine as he opened his window. He looked outside and saw that the mob had made a wide path in the sand and littered it with pieces of clothing and shoes. They seemed to march with purpose and didn’t quit. Brad wondered how they decided where to go.

  He got out of the MRAP and walked among some of the things dropped by the mob. He leaned down to pick up a shoe when he heard the shuffling sounds of something approaching. He looked back at his truck and saw his crew signaling for him to get to cover. But it was too late. The thing had already spotted him and started moving directly at him. Lucky for Brad this thing had a gimped leg, it looked like it had a blown out knee by the way it dragged its foot behind it. “Sergeant! Shoot it!” Cole yelled from the turret.

  “No, hold your fire. If we shoot with the mob still that close they might come back for us,” Brad answered.

  Brad pulled out his karambit knife and dropped into a fighter’s stance and waited for the crazy to get within range. When it got close enough the crazy lunged at Brad head first, which was a mistake, as Brad was an experienced wrestler. He grabbed it by the hair on the top of its head and buried the karambit deep into the side of its neck.

  Brad thought that would be the end of it, but the thing continued its lunge, and grabbed at Brads legs. Brad had to make a deep sprawl so he could land on top of it, and keep his legs out of range. He yanked out the knife and plunged it deep into the base of the things skull. This time the creature went limp and settled onto the ground.

  Brad got back to his feet and wiped his blade off on the things pants. He noticed his hands were shaking, and he was shocked at the strength of the creature, and that it didn’t quit, even with five inches of steel in its jugular.

  Brad dropped to the ground and sat there for a second before dry heaving into the sand next to him. When he looked up, his men were standing around him and looking down at what he had just killed. Brad rolled the man over and saw that he looked like a middle aged Asian man. Not like the typical Afghan they ran into around this area. He reached into its jacket pocket and found a tattered wallet. The identification card wasn’t in English but he recognized the papers from his time earlier working at the border.

  Brad folded the papers and put them in his pocket. “What is it Sergeant? What did you find?” asked Cole.

  “Nothing guys, do a quick check on the truck and make sure nothing was damaged. Méndez help me look this thing over some more,” Brad answered.

  When the others moved away, Brad told Méndez that he was sure the papers were Uzbekistan identification documents. “What do you think that means Sergeant?” Méndez asked.

  “Well, I hope it doesn’t mean that this has spread into Uzbekistan. I hope it doesn’t mean that the border post has been lost. I hope it doesn’t mean we are screwed. Méndez I need you to help me keep this from the men until we get to Hairatan, I need these guys to stay focused,” Brad said.

  “I think you have a point Sergeant,” agreed Mendez, “I won’t say shit till we know for sure what we are looking at.”

  Brad and Méndez walked back to the truck and got on board. “Let’s move out Henry,” Brad said in a low voice. Henry pulled the vehicle forward and around the abandoned MRAP in the middle of the road. They passed a sign that said ‘Hairatan 15km’. “We will be there soon guys, just stay sharp,” Brad said.

  “If there is anything left there. I mean you saw that pack of them. They came from where we are headed. What do we expect to find there?” Eric said.

  “Just keep your head on straight and worry about that when we get there,” ordered Brad.

  The road to Hairatan passed through the arid desert before it moved near the Amu Darya River. Brad could see things slowly begin to lose the tan beige of the desert and turn green. As they got closer to the river they would pass an occasional mud hut. They continued on as the road turned to the east and skirted the river; they could see it below them on the left. Still, they saw no sign of life. As they got closer to Hairatan they started to see more and more abandoned vehicles. Some looked as if they had been trampled; others were rolled over with shattered windshields.

  Henry carefully navigated around the broken and battered vehicles but the congested road soon got to where it was almost impassable. Henry eased the vehicle to the shoulder and prepared to go off road to skirt a large bus that was broken down blocking the left lane. Henry pushed the accelerator and the MRAP began to climb the embankment.

  “No! Stop!” Cole yelled from the gunners hatch.

  Henry hit the brakes and the vehicle slammed forward then stopped.

  “What is it?” Brad asked.

  Cole pointed forward. Brad opened his door and stood in its frame to get a better vantage point. Ahead and off to the side, he saw the missing MRAP.

  It looked like they had attempted the same maneuver to get around the bus. They must have climbed the embankment and tried to skirt around the bus when it lost traction and slid into the deep ditch at the other side of the bus. The MRAP and ditch were out of view of Henry and he never would have seen until it was too late. Brad asked Henry to back up, and then they all got out and wearily approached the disabled MRAP.

  Just like the abandoned truck on the road, this truck also had its mounted gun removed. Brad took that as a good sign. When they got closer they could see that the crew spent a considerable amount of time trying to recover the vehicle. They saw spare tires and cables tied and propped under the MRAP in every position imaginable to try and right it. There was no sign of the crew, and this time there was no note. The vehicle was empty and they took everything removable with them. It looked like they must have lost the fight with it and were forced to abandon the truck. Brad was hoping he wouldn’t have to make the same decision.

  The bus blocking the road was wedged in tight and there didn’t seem to be any way around it. The other side of the road had a sharp drop off. Brad approached a car near that side and looked inside, the keys were missing and the windshield was smashed out. It looked like the last owner of the car had been dragged through it. Brad reached through the window and put the car in neutral and started to push it. Méndez picked up on what Brad was doing and
leaned into the back of the car. They pushed hard and Brad steered the car out over the edge of the cliff.

  Brad instructed Henry to follow them down the now cleared up lane. Cole stayed in the turret to provide cover while Eric and Méndez helped him push vehicles over the side. It was hard work but eventually they had made it through the pileup and the MRAP had room to maneuver again. Eric got back inside the truck while Brad and Méndez elected to ride on the hood. They were starting to approach the outer edge of the city of Hairatan. The road forked and Brad instructed Henry to stick to the north fork which would take them along the river and to the Afghan army post. As they approached, Brad could start to make out the steel girded Friendship Bridge which connected Afghanistan to Uzbekistan, an important trade route and path for military shipments. He wasn’t happy that he could already tell the bridge looked heavily damaged, and some vehicles even appeared to be burning.

  The head of the bridge on the Afghan side is barricaded and you can’t just drive up to it. Brad instructed Henry to move the MRAP up onto the railway bed that ran parallel to the road, and around the barriers. The MRAP slowly climbed the railroad tracks and eased into the customs station. Strangely, there were no train cars, and the inspection station was eerily quiet. Brad and Méndez dismounted with Eric while Cole stood watch in the turret. Brad asked Henry to kill the engine while they listened.

  They heard them before they saw them, four males and a female running towards them from down on the far side of the barricade. They were running along the fence trying to make their way to the gate so they could get around and at the soldiers. Brad watched them as they crashed through the gate and began coming up the embankment. He looked through his red dot site and took aim at a large man in a yellow shirt leading far out in front. He pulled the trigger and hit him in the chest with a 3 round burst. The man fell and the others ran over him. Brad told the men to open fire.

  They took carefully aimed shots that hit the crazies several times, but they kept coming. “Aim for the head,” Brad yelled. And he again aimed for the lead runner, putting the red dot just below his chin and pulling the trigger. He saw his rounds pop through the neck and face of the runner. When he lowered his rifle all of them were down. They changed out magazines in their M4s and looked around. He saw off in the distance, the man in yellow he initially shot three times in the chest was getting back to his feet and making his way back towards them.

  They stared at the man in awe. Brad raised his rifle and placed the dot over the man’s heart and pulled the trigger. Yellow shirt spun around and fell, but rolled back to his belly and got back to his feet and started walking again towards the soldiers. Brad aimed at the man’s leg and took a shot, yellow shirts knee buckled, and he went into the dirt, but began crawling towards them. They just stood and watched the man crawl until he was less than 10 feet away when Brad placed a shot in yellow shirts head stopping him.

  “What the fuck was that?” Méndez muttered.

  Eric walked to the downed man and rolled him over to his back. There were four holes going across the man’s chest, two in the abdomen, one in the heart and one in the lungs. “How is this possible? You shot him three too many times to kill him and he kept going,” Eric said.

  As they stared at yellow shirt, Cole shouted “Contact right!” Brad spun to see two more figures running towards them. The two crazies were wearing border guard uniforms. At first Brad thought maybe help had arrived, but he could hear the high pitched whine of their moans.

  Without instruction, they raised their rifles and dropped the former guards with well-aimed shots to the grapes. They walked over to the downed men and one of them had a gaping wound on his shoulder; the other was missing a good portion of his neck.

  “It looks like whatever this is, it keeps them alive. Look at these wounds; these guys should have been immobile,” Eric explained.

  “It’s definitely not good Eric, I don’t know what to say right now,” Brad answered.

  Méndez rolled one of the guards over and found a Makarov pistol in the man’s holster. “No sense in leaving this,” Méndez said as he tucked the pistol into his body armor.

  “Back to the truck guys, I’m sure this shooting attracted a lot of attention,” said Brad.

  Henry drove the truck deeper into the border post compound. Eventually he found a spot back in some shipping containers. He found a horseshoe stack of containers and backed the MRAP and trailer in nicely to where they couldn’t be snuck up on from behind, but they still had a nice view in the front. It wasn’t a perfect place to defend against an armed enemy, but it made good tactics against the crazies they were facing.

  Once the engine was shut down they listened intently for sounds that they had been discovered, but it was quiet. Now that they were in the city they did hear the occasional scream and some sporadic gunfire in the distance, but for the most part the compound appeared to be secured. Brad setup a watch schedule and he told his guys to try and get some rest. It was mid-day and the sun was high in the sky.

  The inside of the MRAP heated up quickly with the engine and cooling systems shut down. Brad knew the conditions were not ideal. He allowed the men to dismount from the truck and try to cool off in the shade under the vehicle, however, the heat still rolled off the pavement and radiated from the vehicle and shipping containers. Brad climbed to the top of the truck and used his binoculars to try and scout the area. He had a good open view of the compound, and could see the warehouse buildings off in the distance. Most of the fence still looked to be in place, and the warehouse doors were all closed and secure.

  Brad decided that he needed to take a small foot patrol to find a better hide; they couldn’t sit here in the hundred degree heat and cook. He told Cole and Eric to suit up and be ready to move in 15 minutes, leaving Méndez in charge of the vehicle. They packed their gear and put on their knee and elbow pads. Because they were no longer facing a traditional enemy it was decided to drop the heavy bullet stopping ceramic plates from their vests, and to also close up the neck and shoulder protectors on their body armor. Designed to protect soldiers from shrapnel and road side bombs, they hoped the Kevlar fabric would now prove useful against the rabid mobs they had been faced with.

  Cole crept out around the container and led the way on point. He walked slowly and stuck close to the edge of the containers. Cole stopped often to listen and to look at far off objects through his rifles advanced optics. The enemy didn’t appear to be particularly cunning but they had managed to sneak up on them more than once, and they didn’t want that to happen without the safety of the MRAP. Quickly, yet silently, the patrol moved until they were within a football field’s distance from the first warehouse. Cole put his fist in the air and waved them down to the ground. Brad crawled forward and used his binos to look at the building.

  It was made entirely of cinderblock, and appeared to be new; probably part of the International Security Force reconstruction efforts. The building had a large overhead door in its center and a smaller door to its right. A row of windows lined the very top of the building; probably for venting and to let in daylight. They watched and waited for a good twenty minutes to make sure they were alone before they got to their feet. One at a time they bounded across the distance and stacked up on the warehouse door. Brad reached across and tried the handle, it turned easily in his hand and he was relieved to find the door unlocked. He held up three fingers and dropped them one at a time. He swiftly and professionally entered the room to clear everything within their view.

  A large empty bay with rows of shelving filled the back wall. To the right, he found a block of offices and a set of stairs that led to a loft of more office space above them. They took their time in clearing the row of offices one by one, and then went up the flight of stairs to confirm the building was empty. At the top of the stairs Brad signaled for them to stop and put a finger over his lips. He pointed to a desk where he could see a foot sticking from behind a half wall of a cubicle. Brad silently un-holstered his M9 pis
tol and slowly cut the corner; allowing him to slowly see what was on the other side without making himself a target.

  He peeked into the cubicle and saw a man sitting face down on his desk, the back of his head had a large exit hole and his brains were still running down the back wall of his cube.

  “Well, looks like someone decided to check out early,” Brad whispered.

  The man still clutched an S&W sigma pistol. Brad grabbed it and put it in his pack. Now that the building was clear he called the MRAP on his headset and informed Méndez that the warehouse was safe, and they would be returning. He told them to be ready to move when they got there. Cole and Eric tried the large overhead door and found it operational even though the power was out, the manual chain system still seemed to work fine.

  Quietly they guided the truck back to the warehouse and pulled it and the trailer through the large overhead door. Once the vehicle was parked and the engine killed, they started setting up a defensive perimeter. The warehouse only had the two entrances, the small entry door and the large overhead. Brad placed a metal clip on the chain and pulley system of the door to prevent anyone from being able to raise it. The bolt lock on the entry door didn’t appear to work, so they pulled it tight and secured it with some rope and zip ties, fastening it as tightly as they could. It wouldn’t keep a determined individual out, but it would give them warning if anyone tried to get in.

  Brad asked the men to unload and get a good inventory of everything in the trailer and onboard the vehicle. Brad and Méndez went into the office spaces and tried to search for anything to give them a means of working communication. The phones were dead, and the power was out so all of the computers were also offline. Méndez came back around the corner holding a cell phone he had pulled from the man’s pocket in the upstairs cubicle. The phone had full bars, but every number he dialed gave a busy signal. They had tried the radios in the MRAP several times and had no response, so it appeared they were alone and without any comms.