Whiskey Tango Foxtrot (Escaping the Dead)

by Lundy, W. J.

  “Wind from three o’clock, six miles per hour, dial wind right, two point three,” came the spotter’s adjustments.

  The warehouse was infested with the primals. When they opened the large double doors they were immediately engaged. They often found hives of them behind locked, barricaded and closed doors like this. In the early days of the attacks, families would seek refuge in their homes securing themselves in. Often with wounded loved ones in tow. Unknowing that their injured family member would turn and attack them in their final hiding place. That was before we knew how it spread, how deadly it was. Before we knew a deep cut or bite would bring on the rage.

  “Roger, dialed two point three, target indexed,” Brad whispered making adjustments to the rifle without taking his eye off the target.

  It had taken most of the day and a large deal of ammo to clear out that hive. They had no for sure strategy against them, the primals played by no rules. Primals would mass quickly and would pour from every direction if they sensed prey. No fear of injury or death, they couldn’t be suppressed; there was no shock and awe to use against them. Primals couldn’t be intimidated into surrender.

  Battle drills called for shutting down the immediate threat as quickly as possible, then getting very stealthy, running and hiding from the later waves of primals that always showed up. In the city it was pointless to attempt to stand your ground, there would always be too many. Stealth and escape were the only things that worked.

  “Take the shot,” the spotter whispered.

  Who knew what they would do when the ammo ran out. Close combat with primals was a nightmare; they were fast and strong and never tired. They didn’t hesitate to strike and they didn’t quit if they thought a meal was nearby. Brad needed to make long term preparations, but his people were always too busy surviving to look to the future. They needed to make contact with the States, their families, and their command. They needed help.

  “Firing,” Brad said as he focused the sight picture and pulling the trigger during the natural pause in his breathing.

  The SEAL team Chief is the only one to have had contact with the military after the attacks, but even that was lost when the satellite phones batteries died. Sean had told him that NATO pulled out all of the soldiers in the first days. They had been re-called to defend their homelands. Brads men were not so lucky, blindsided by the fog of war. The government gave little advanced warning that the attacks were coming, as always ‘the need to know’ didn’t reach the soldiers on the ground or in remote camps. They were afraid if the intelligence about the biological attack leaked, the enemy would strike early, before the Special Forces could stop them. Either way we lost.

  “Hit, head, target down,” confirmed the spotter.

  The fog of war and Murphy’s Law had taken down innumerable members in the attacks. Now they were alone, lost and outnumbered. A dozen men from a lost patrol are of little concern to the big picture in the fight for humanity. The United States was under attack and fighting for survival. How could they spare resources to look for others when they were fighting for themselves? Those were the arguments he used to justify the abandonment to his men, but he didn’t have one for himself. As hard as it would be to leave the safety of this compound the decision was clear. Someone needed to leave, to reach out; without support they wouldn’t make it out here alone.

  “Roger, Hit,” Brad replied opening the bolt and chambering another round. This was his seventh kill this morning, and the start to a long watch.

  1.

  Forward Operating Base Bremmel

  Zero day plus one.

  He wasn’t a bad soldier, just misunderstood. Sergeant Robert Logan was always in trouble, not on the job, but for things he did on his own time. His last adventure had caused him to oversleep and not show up on time for duty. That cost him his team leader position and sentenced him to a week of working in the chow hall. Now the rest of Echo Company was preparing for a patrol, and he was getting ready for a day slinging hash. Time in the mess hall sucks, but not as bad as watching your men roll out without you.

  Robert was helping Corporal Méndez prepare his crew for today’s mission; this would be his first as team leader. Robert was nervously quizzing him to make sure he was ready for the responsibility. Méndez asked him to relax, everything would be fine. He had a solid crew, Specialist Eric was a good driver and Private Ryan was one of the best gunners in the company. Besides, it wasn’t Robert’s concern today, his job was serving up breakfast and the last thing he needed was to be late for work again. Robert shook his former teammate’s hands and wished them luck on today’s patrol, then walked away towards the chow hall.

  It felt strange for Robert to be going to work without the body armor and weapons he was used to. He still carried his M9 pistol in a holster, but other than that he felt naked. Robert walked to the mess hall and said good morning to the Mess Sergeant that ran the dining facility. She gave him a scowl, obviously not happy that she was always being assigned the other units trouble makers to work in her facility. She needed the help though, and couldn’t afford to turn anyone away.

  She told Robert to get washed up and got him started on peeling and slicing hard boiled eggs. Robert was disgusted by the work assignment, but he settled in and got busy. Even though it sucked, he found the work surprisingly easy. He looked over the counter at the end of his work area and watched the soldiers begin to pile in for the morning meal service.

  After a few minutes of peeling eggs Robert decided to put himself on break and he wandered into the seating area. He saw a good friend of his and a fellow trouble maker, Staff Sergeant Bolder, just sitting down with his tray. Robert grabbed a cup of coffee and made his way over. “Hey Bolder, how are you doing buddy?” Robert asked him while he sat at the table across from his longtime friend.

  “I’m good, I see they still got you on Kitchen Patrol, how long you got to do this for?” asked Bolder.

  “Well, Sergeant Turner says I can be done at the end of the week if I stop being late all the time, but he said K.P. will be my permanent job if I screw up again, it’s all bullshit man. So anyway what’s new on camp?”

  “Shit Bro, didn’t you hear? There was a big fight in the aid station last night… Yeah from the MedEvac that brought in those wounded civilians yesterday,” Bolder said.

  “What? That was just a bunch of women and children and such. They were just cut up and scratched bad; I even helped unload them from the choppers.”

  “Yeah that’s the group,” replied Bolder. “Seems they got into some shit, must have been on acid or something, cause a couple hours after the medics got them all patched up and into bed, them folks woke up angry as hell. They went ape shit on the medics. Damn, even the kids were biting and scratching at everyone. Had to pull security off the walls to handle them.” explained Bolder.

  “What the hell bro, that’s crazy! So where they at now?” asked Robert.

  “Oh the Military Police got them all locked up, but man it took half the guards on night shift to shut them down, wasn’t cool bro. I have never seen nothing like it. Anyhow the Captain gave all the guards the rest of the night off and told them to get some sleep. He called my crew in early to take over. They needed it though man, some of those guys had some deep scratches; a couple even got the shit bit out of them.”

  “Man this place is crazy. They just need to send our ass’s home. Got drugged up civilians attacking us now; what’s next you know?” said Robert.

  “I hear ya buddy, I hear ya,” answered Bolder shoveling in a fork full of eggs.

  Robert was about to get up and head back into the kitchen when he heard a loud commotion coming from the main entrance. He turned to see what was going on just as two soldiers burst through the front door. One was dressed only in pants with no shirt; the other was wearing a T-shirt and shorts. The shirtless man had tackled a soldier in the doorway and several others were trying to pull him off.

  The Mess Sergeant ran from the kitchen looking angry as hell and re
ady to confront them. Yelling, she charged directly into the chaos; T-shirt pushed off from the crowd and ran directly at her grabbing at her shoulders. The Mess Sergeant screamed for help just as the crazed soldier took a snarling bite out of her exposed neck. Robert could see the man pull back with its mouth full of flesh, and blood spurting out of the wound. The Mess Sergeant staggered backwards and fell to the floor.

  Robert got over the initial shock of what he had just witnessed. He un-holstered his pistol, took aim and pulled the trigger. He put two rounds into T-shirt, knocking him back and away from the mess sergeant. Several soldiers ran to her and began first aid.

  Robert stood dazed with the smoking gun in his hands. To draw and fire had been instinctive, his training taking over; but now to see an American soldier dead by his hands stunned him. Robert holstered the weapon as the chaos woke him from his stupor. He ran over to help the other soldiers restrain the first shirtless man; but he was fighting hard and they were finding it impossible to pin him down.

  With the mess hall in chaos, nobody noticed T-shirt stumble and crawl back to his feet. He staggered forward with the two bleeding gunshots in his chest and tackled a small female soldier providing aid to the Mess Sergeant. Robert heard her scream. Turning, he couldn’t believe his eyes, when he saw that T-shirt was back up attacking again. What the fuck? Robert thought. He started to rush towards the female to help against T-shirt just as four more crazed soldiers ran into the crowd that had gathered outside the doors.

  What the hell is going on? Robert again thought to himself. He stood and took a step backwards fending off his feelings of panic. Off to the right he could see that the shirtless man was now winning the fight. He had taken a bite out of a soldier and a couple others had nearly quit in exhaustion. To the left, T-shirt had silenced the small female and was now wrestling with a third soldier. Back outside the doorway, it was a cluster of bodies and blood battling for leverage. Fear had taken over and confusion was winning the fight.

  Then the gunfire started outside. The first shots startled Robert, the familiar sounds again sparking his training; he redrew his pistol putting two more rounds into T-shirt knocking him down for a final time. Stepping closer, he plugged a final round into his skull. Pivoting hard on his feet towards the shirtless man, he raised his weapon and emptied the magazine into its naked chest; ending the struggle. Shortly after he fired his last shot, the shirtless soldier stopped moving and slumped to the ground. The fight outside was growing and one of the wounded soldiers jumped to secure the mess hall doors; locking out the madness just beyond them. A few more saw what he was doing and followed suit by piling tables and chairs against the entry way.

  Robert turned to look around the room…the two attackers were down and dead. He saw at least four other soldiers lying on the floor bleeding heavily. Five others were in the room; most of them also covered in cuts and scratches. The cooks came from the kitchen into the dining facility to assist in giving first aid. He saw Bolder again, he had a long scratch down his arm from the fight with shirtless, and Robert asked him if he was okay.

  “Yeah I’m good. Man that wasn’t right. That’s exactly what went down in the aid station last night. You think them civilians could have slipped these guys some of the same drugs?”

  “I don’t know Bolder, but those guys were tough as hell. I shot one twice and he still got up and kept fighting. What’s going on outside? It sounds like a riot,” answered Robert.

  Robert and Bolder walked to a window and looked out. The camp was a mess; they could see soldiers fighting soldiers everywhere. Some had weapons drawn and were firing into masses of fighting men. Everyone was in a panic and in complete disorder. “Bolder we got to get out of here. Let’s get back to the Company building and find out what’s going on,” Robert said.

  With Robert leading the way, the two of them cut back through the kitchen and out a back door. The back of the mess hall was positioned against a long concrete T-wall that protected it from mortar and rocket fire. A service entrance led from the back of the kitchen and followed the wall around onto a dirty street. Robert made his way through the service area and guided Bolder onto the street. It suddenly grew quiet and the gunfire ceased. Only the sounds of agony and soldiers shouting orders were left in the air.

  Robert rounded a corner and looked to the left. He saw that most of the fighting in front of the mess hall had stopped, but there were a lot of bodies on the ground. Confused and stunned soldiers were walked around staring at the bodies of the fallen. Robert and Bolder walked in the direction of the company buildings; they could see soldiers sitting on the ground with cuts on their arms and faces. Others were weeping and trying to provide aid to their friends.

  Robert walked with Boulder across the open space. They stood looking stunned by what they were seeing. There were two dead soldiers in front of them. The soldiers looked like they had been chewed apart by animals. Another soldier to the left had a bandaged arm, his chest and head covered with now fatal gunshot wounds. “That’s Erickson,” Bolder said pointing at the bandaged man. “He was one of the guards that got attacked last night.”

  The silence was suddenly shattered with sirens blaring and loud speakers announcing “incoming ground attack, all available personnel to assigned security sector”.

  “You got to be fucking kidding me!” Bolder yelled, “Let’s go Robert, time to get to work!” He yelled back before he turned and headed for the wall.

  Robert looked at the pistol in his hand; he loaded his last magazine, then picked up a rifle off the ground next to a dead soldier and ran after Bolder towards the wall. They got to the front gate just in time to see a large jingle truck racing towards the entrance. The truck was going fast, driving erratically, and blaring its horn. The men on watch fired flares and warning shots but the truck raced on. When they were certain it wasn’t going to stop they opened up on it with their heavy machine guns. The large caliber rounds ripped into the engine block, skipping through the truck, blowing out the cab and killing the driver. The truck came to a rolling stop in a ditch just short of the first set of barriers.

  A young officer with a gold subdued Lieutenants bar on his helmet pointed at Bolder and Robert. “You two! Get out there and secure that vehicle”.

  “Hooah sir,” Bolder sarcastically grumbled back. He slapped Robert on the shoulder “You ready for this bro?”

  “Lead the way,” Robert answered.

  They weaved through the barriers and slowly approached the truck. The destroyed engine made a clicking sound as it died and cooled off in the heat. The front was bleeding coolant onto the ground; steam and smoke billowed from holes in the hood. Robert rounded the front of the truck, sliced the corner with his rifle and aimed into the cab. He found a mess inside with little left to investigate.

  They began to lower their weapons when they heard a whimper coming from the covered bed of the vehicle. Bolder gave Robert a quick hand signal and they pressed back to the rear of the jingle truck. Robert took a step back and raised his rifle; providing cover while Bolder lifted the canvas to peer inside. “Oh shit,” Bolder gasped.

  Robert stepped forward to look inside and saw the bed of the truck was littered with wounded civilians, most of them children.

  “Lieutenant! We need a medic up here!” Robert yelled back over his shoulder. The Lieutenant and another young soldier ran forward to the truck and looked inside.

  “Sir? You want me to call for a medic?” The young soldier asked.

  “No, they are busy with the wounded inside; they won’t have time for this shit!” The Lieutenant snapped back in frustration.

  They heard a soft voice from the front of the covered truck bed, quietly calling for help. Robert climbed over the tailgate of the truck and into the bed moving forward until he found the man who spoke. “I’m here,” Robert said.

  “Water,” the man pleaded.

  Robert yelled the request back at the men and the young soldier tossed him a small bottle of water. Robert opened the
container and helped the man sip.

  “Why did you run at our gate?” Robert asked. “Why didn’t you stop?”

  “We didn’t run at your gate, we ran to your gate. We ran from them,” answered the dying man.

  “Ran? Ran from whom?” Robert asked.

  The man gave Robert an exhausted and sad look. He raised his hand, pointing over and behind the men standing at the back of the truck, “From death,” he said.

  Robert strained to look into the distance. It was difficult to see from the darkness of the covered truck and out into the hot bright sunlight. Far off in the distance, through the waves of heat on the pavement, he could make out a large group of people headed in their direction. Robert looked back down at the man and saw that he had passed.

  “Well shit, here it comes,” Grumbled the Lieutenant looking in the same direction. “Right on time; that would be the villagers from town coming to protest the dead civilians from last night. I’m sure this truck full of bodies isn’t going to help things.”

  “L.T., the man in the truck said they were running away from that group, maybe it’s more of what just happened inside. I don’t think they are protestors,” said Robert.

  “Well nice story, but he can’t help us now. Let’s get back to the barrier and get ready to meet our guests,” the Lieutenant argued.

  Robert and Bolder turned, closed the tailgate, buttoned down the canvas cover on the truck, and then headed back to the camps gate and barriers.

  “I have a bad feeling about this Bolder,” Robert mumbled.

  “I know, just stay sharp bro. I got your back,” Bolder said.

  They moved behind the barrier and took up a position just inside the open gate. Robert saw the mob moving closer. Yeah they were definitely pissed off, they were even running! Robert had seen protests at Bremmel before, but usually they were pretty well orchestrated. This one appeared to be spontaneous, with no leader, and they were coming fast.