by Allen Gamboa
"Major." Arturo 'Gonzo' Gonzales, the team’s medic, pointed at the body of a jumpsuited mechanic. "That guy was shot, not bitten."
"Crap." The major walked over to the body. "You sure?"
Gonzo nodded. "Pretty sure. I gave him a quick check and found nothing obvious."
"Why would he be shot?" Brooks asked, kneeling next to the dead mechanic. "Friendly fire?"
"There's a mess of casings all over." Sergeant Newman bent down and picked one up. He rolled it around in a Kevlar-gloved hand then looked over at Hale. "Russian or at least someone who uses AK 74s." He tossed the casing to Hale, who caught it.
"Hate AKs," Zoe said. "Got shot by one in Africa." She rubbed her left arm. "Ruined a perfectly good tattoo."
"Wasn't a butterfly, was it, luv?" Newman smirked, picking up another casing.
"Fuck you, Alby."
"Don't think we have time, luv." The Australian winked.
"GlobaTech doesn't use AKs," Brooks said, standing up. "It's not the Matol security team."
"Let's get back," Hale said uneasily. "I need to make a call on the SAT phone. The rest of you, ready the vehicles so we can get to the target." Hale rolled the casing around in a gloved hand. He had a really bad feeling about this.
***
The afternoon heat was starting to make sergeant Wu sweat. He adjusted his boonie hat and wiped the salty wetness from his eyes. Wu was getting uncomfortable and bored on top of the plane. The sun was almost unbearable, but he was thankful he had the cargo pad to keep the skin of the plane from roasting him alive. It was a relief when Hale called him and said they were heading back in. Wu stood up and stretched.
From his standing position on the plane, he could see the surrounding green ocean. Something shiny in the distance grabbed his attention. Wu grabbed up his monocle and peered through it. "Damn!" he cursed. The sergeant quickly tapped on his headset mic.
"Major, Major, this is Sergeant Wu."
"Go ahead, Sergeant."
"From my view on the plane, I can make out a large yacht anchored a little ways offshore.”
“Son of a bitch!” Hale motioned for the others to hurry up. “Good job, Wu. Get downstairs and get your gear.”
“No problem, Major.” Wu slung his rifle and grabbed up the cargo pad.
***
Jackson was just getting to a good part in his book when a pounding from above brought him away from an ashram in India to the air-conditioned cockpit on the tiny landing strip. He set the paperback in his lap and looked over at Crossley, who was snoring softly, oblivious to the noise from above. Jackson shook his head at him and stood up, shoving the book back into his pants pocket. Cal Jackson had flown with Nate Crossley for several years. Crossley was a great pilot but a lousy conversationalist. Could be worse, Cal thought. At least Nate overlooked his drinking and choices in books.
"Coming!" Jackson shouted towards the ceiling as he stepped over to a small, portable ladder that led to the roof hatch. The sniper was still stomping on the top as the co-pilot started to undo the hatch. Wu could feel it start to move and stepped back. Jackson pushed it open and stuck his head out. "Damn it's hot up here!"
"No shit!" the sniper growled. "Can I come in now?"
"Be my guest, Sarge." Jackson hurried back down, followed by Wu. The soldier closed the hatch behind him and locked it back up. "Anything exciting out there?"
"Not much, Mister Jackson." Wu wiped some sweat from his face. The cool air felt great. "You can go ahead and drop the rear. The major and the rest are on their way back."
"Will do." Jackson grabbed Crossley by the shoulder and shook him. "Wake up, Nate!" Crossley groaned. "Wake your ass up! The commandos are coming back in!"
"Okay, Mom, okay!" Eyes closed, Crossley wiped some slobber from his cheeks. Blindly, he fumbled for the aft ramp remote. "I'm awake! I'm awake!"
CHAPTER 9: ONE PARTY TOO MANY
Hale grabbed the SAT phone out of its hardened case and found himself a spot in the cargo bay away from the others. They were busying readying the vehicles and their own personal gear and weapons. The major quickly inputted a phone number into the SAT's handset and was gratified when, after two rings, someone picked up.
"Black Hat," Hale said into the handset.
"Go ahead, Black Hat. This is Mother," a voice said from somewhere around the world.
"We have a problem. We are at the airstrip, and it appears to have been compromised by another party."
"Contact with target?" The other voice was emotionless.
"No. Transmitter and cell towers are disabled."
"Proceed as planned. We have no knowledge of a second party. Use extreme caution and prejudice. The only friendlies should be at the target. You have a green light on all others."
"We believe they may be Russian."
Silence for a few long seconds. Then the voice returned, still emotionless. "You cannot fail on this, Major." Another few seconds of silence as Hale took this all in. "Do you hear me, Major? Failure is not an option. This is for America, Major."
"Copy that, Mother." Then Hale said quietly, under his breath, "For America."
"Good luck, Black Hat." The phone clicked off.
"Shit!" Hale stared at the silent SAT phone in his hand. This was not going to end well.
"Sir," Lieutenant Wickham said from several feet behind him, "we're ready."
"Good, Lieutenant." Hale turned slowly towards the junior officer and shoved the SAT phone into a side cargo pants pocket. "I want to brief everyone before we unass. Get them all together please."
"Yes, Major." Wickham turned to get the team together. Hale grabbed his rucksack off the alloy floor and slung his mini-14 over his shoulder. He reached for the .45 at his hip and made sure it had a magazine in it. Satisfied, he reached inside his Kevlar vest and found the small .40 Beretta tucked inside a pocket. He smiled. You could never have too much firepower.
CHAPTER 10: HUDDLE
The nineteen soldiers were gathered by the vehicles, shooting the breeze. The Humvee and Pit Bull were fully loaded with weapons and supplies. Two olive drab KTM 250 dirt bikes were also strapped with gear. Hale dropped his pack to the floor and walked over to where Zoe West was talking with Diamond and Wickham.
"—an I said, 'It ain’t gonna lick itself, mate!'" Zoe smiled. Wickham and Diamond just shook their heads and chuckled. Hale cleared his throat, a little embarrassed, and looked around at the teams.
"Listen up, people, there appears to be another team on the island. Chances are they are interested in our target too." A few of the group groaned and cursed. "They want our pay day. We don't know who they are or how many, but they are packing some heavy weapons."
"So am I!" Gator grabbed his crotch and thrust forward.
"What’s that mate? A mini-gun?" West smiled. Several of the soldiers chuckled.
"Okay, okay. Listen up. This isn't good. Now, we have deaders and unknowns with weapons. We have a green light on all non-friendlies. Sergeant Wu spotted a yacht outside the island. We're gonna assume that's their ride." Hale glanced over at the sergeant. "Wu, you take Sergeant Clarke and the bikes to where you can get a good vantage point on their boat." Wu nodded. "Clarke, you know how to ride a bike?"
"Aye major, been ridin' since I was a kid," Clarke said proudly.
"Your sister doesn't count, Sergeant." Captain Brooks added.
Clarke looked down at his boots. "Major, I used to race them."
"You are full of surprises, Captain." Hale smirked. "You take Sergeant Wu and ride out to where you can best cover the yacht. Take the .50 and a couple of those rocket launchers. They turn out to be bad guys, I want it sunk."
"Got it," Brooks said, walking over to where the .50 cal sniper rifle was packed away on the Humvee.
"Gator and Pancho." Both soldiers glanced over at the commanding officer. "I want you to stay with the plane. I don't want anyone stealing our ride home. Gator, post yourself up in what's left of the tower. Pancho, you stay aboard the bird. Keep the pilots
company."
"No problem, sir," Sanchez said dropping his pack to the deck. "I'll make sure no one steals the rims."
"Major …" Gator started to whine.
"Look, Sergeant Knox, post your ass up in the tower. You’re not missing anything, and I need my third best sniper watching our transport."
"Third?" Knox spat chew into the plastic cup in his hand.
Hale ignored him. "Everyone else, load up. We get to the target and we have any company, we take them out. No prisoners. Got it?" There were several nods and yes sirs. "We all have gone over the layouts of the lab. Any questions?"
"Yeah." Sergeant Jefferson popped a gum bubble. "What happened to the cake walk?"
"The music just got a little faster, Sergeant. That's all." Hale looked around at the group. "We got this. You are all professionals and hardcore soldiers. A cake walk would make us all look like pussies, right? Right. We all go, and we all come back. Okay, let's roll out!"
CHAPTER 11: DO YOU REALLY WANT TO HURT ME?
Mister Black was enjoying the thousand-dollar Scotch that his assistant had just poured him. He clinked the ice cubes around in the glass. He loved that sound. It reminded him of what he really needed to be, and that he was. Rich. Rich and powerful. He sat back in the overstuffed leather chair and took a nice, slow drink. He set the glass down on a Tiffany coaster on the marble table and moved his right hand to the sweet sounds of the elevator music that flowed through his million-dollar sound system.
He loved elevator music. No words, just soft music. He loved it so much that Mister Black had bought the Muzak company years ago. Elevator was the perfect sound to him. That and screams. Mister Black had the muzak piped into his basement. It was the perfect soundtrack to carve by. Thinking of that made him sexually aroused. He was starting to get that itch again. His cell phone suddenly vibrated on the marble countertop. Annoyed, he scooped up the phone and glanced at the incoming number. He looked at his watch, but it was too soon to be anything good.
"Yes?"
"Sir, this is Mother." It was the voice from Hale's SAT phone.
"Proceed," Mister Black said, a little intrigued and annoyed.
"No joy on target yet, but Black Hat has reports of another party involved."
"Another party." He shook his head and threw his glass into the side of the enormous granite fireplace. The thousand-dollar crystal exploded into a million pieces. "Who?"
"Black Hat seems to think it could be bears. I gave them the green light to remove the invited partiers."
"Very good." Black’s assistant hurried into the room with another glass for his Scotch. Mister Black took it and waved the servant off. "Keep me apprised of the festivities. I will try and find out who those party crashers are."
"Yes, sir."
"Thank you, Mother." He poured himself another Scotch. "Do we have a welcoming committee waiting for Black Hat upon return?"
"Yes, I have a party planned for them."
"Very good. Be sure to exchange gifts before the party is over." Black took a sip of the scotch. "Make sure the place is clean when you’re done so we get back the deposit."
"Yes sir." The phone went dead. Black found himself with a throbbing erection. He stood up, Scotch in hand, and headed towards the basement whistling, "Do You Really Want To Hurt Me."
CHAPTER 12: I REALLY HOPE THE CAVALRY GETS HERE SOON
Matol Industries had built a bio-weapons laboratory on Eller Island to keep the prying eyes of their competitors at bay. The compound was located four miles from the airfield and five miles from the ocean. A twelve-foot electrified fence surrounded the complex’s eight buildings. Road 101 went right by the compound’s front gate. Four of the buildings were staff housing, dining, and recreation areas. One of the buildings was the security and armory center. Another building was the garage and motor pool. Administration had a building to itself with the last building being the laboratories and the largest structure.
The one-story building now held all the Matol and GlobaTech survivors. The structure had a large, steel security door in front and another at the rear. The four large security windows on each side of the building were now covered on the inside with wood used from some of the research desks. At least two hundred of the undead were surrounding the lab, trying to claw and pound their way inside the doors and windows.
A section of the electric fence had collapsed due to the combined weight of dozens of the living dead forcing their way into the compound. Two of GlobaTech's security men and several technicians were swarmed by the hungry crowd and devoured by them before the rest of the staff had been able to secure themselves in the lab.
Doctor Artemis Orlac, Matol's chief researcher, tried to call out on his cell phone and only got a beeping tone. Cursing, Orlac dropped the cell phone into his lab coat pocket. The moaning and pounding from the undead outside added to the scientist's uneasiness.
"They also blew up the cell towers, herr Doktor," Wolf Zagers said as he watched the scientist's failed attempt at calling out. The six-foot-five former German soldier crossed his bear-like forearms and leaned against the table. "Wilem said the Russians took out the airfield and all our communications. Bastards killed most of my men!" He slammed a large fist down on the table. Orlac jumped a little.
"At least we were able to get word to the company before this all happened. Van Lewin said they would be sending an extraction team."
"That is all good, Doktor, but right now we are screwed. Another team is on its way for you, and whatever the hell this thing is you're working on," he pointed at one of the boarded-up windows that was vibrating from the scores of undead hands beating and tearing at them, "right now, we’re blind in here!"
"Safe, Mister Zagers."
"Maybe for now. I don't even know who is coming for us, but from what Wilem said before he was killed, they have enough firepower to get inside." Zagers looked around at several technicians who were packing up boxes of files. "Maybe they should be doing something else? I don't think we are going to be able to carry all that."
"That is all important, herr Zagers." Orlac rested his hands on his hips.
"We'll see what's important when we are running for our lives." Zagers shook his head, trying to get rid of the horrific sounds of the dead outside. "They're not paying enough on this job."
"Wolf, this is very important. Doctor Ansalvo getting infected then escaping into town was a tragic mistake. We can't change that." He ran a hand through his sweaty mop of red hair. "This vaccine, once we have it completed, will change the world."
"We have a vaccine already right? Z-66."
"Z-66 is at best hit and miss. The vaccine we are working on has proven to work one hundred percent, and you'll never need another booster." Orlac smiled weakly.
"You know this vaccine works?" Zagers asked, intrigued.
"Yes. You remember Crozier?"
"The mechanic, ya." The security man nodded. "Ansalvo bit him. I thought he was infected?"
"He did, and he was. We injected him with the Z-67, and he's fine. Mister Crozier’s in the break room, resting on a couch."
Zagers knew he had to see this for himself. He didn’t remember the burly mechanic being in the building. The pounding and moaning outside seemed to grow louder. "That is very good news, Doktor. We need to leave as soon as possible then. Those zombies are going to have a hard time getting in, but eventually, they will. We can load up the Jeeps and vans and head to the far side of the island. That should buy us some time until help comes."
"Wolf, we need to finish our work on the vaccine. We used most of it on Crozier. The techs should be finished with the lot we need for the company." Orlac wiped some nervous sweat from his face, thankful the power still worked and the air was on. "So we must wait. Hopefully, the other security team will get here first."
"Damn! Doktor, we are in one fucked-up situation." He stood up. "I will send a couple of men up to the roof so at least we will have a heads up."
"Sounds good, Wolf."
&nb
sp; "Your people need to hurry, Doktor. I lived through one zombie outbreak. I don't want to go through another. I will try and buy us as much time as is possible."
"We get out of here, Zagers, and you'll never have to worry about zombies again. The vaccine we have will eventually wipe out any chance of it happening again."
"We need to protect this with our lives," Zagers said, grabbing his MP-7 assault rifle off the table. This had gone from just another protection job that had spun weirdly out of control to a global solution to a problem that haunted every man, woman, and child alive.
"Yes. Yes we do, Wolf. Once we are safe, I'll see that the company triples all you and your men’s fees."
"That's the least they can do." Wolf slung his weapon and stepped out into the hallway. "I really hope your cavalry gets here soon."
"So do I, Wolf. So do I."
CHAPTER 13: BAD GUYS
Arkady watched as Nico and Kata buried the IED in the middle of the two-lane dirt road that led past the Matol Research Center. The former Soviet Navy commander crouched in the jungle foliage along with seventeen other mercenaries, observing the two plant the explosives. Nico was the explosive expert whose specialty was IEDs. The ex-Spetsnaz soldier had made a name for himself in the country of Georgia but wasn't very good at following orders. His insubordination eventually drove him into the gun-for-hire trade. Kata was ex-infantry who liked to kill civilians. Like Nico, she found she could kill civilians and get paid handsomely for it.
The mercenary commander glanced over at the rest of his team. They were all the same. Killers and sadists with marketable skills. This was the first time Arkady had worked with most of these former Soviet soldiers. Taking out the airfield and security forces had been his idea. To Arkady's surprise, they worked well together. Besides Ignat and Gavril getting bitten by the damn zombie, the airfield strike was a success. Taking out the laboratory and grabbing the virus was next.
