“Yes, sir.”
McDaniels clapped him on the shoulder. “Good man, Captain. When you get everything arranged, contact me at the TOC. Understood?”
“Got it, Colonel.”
“Time’s of the essence, Captain, just so you know,” McDaniels said, having to raise his voice over the gunfire and the sudden shriek of a jet passing over the camp. An explosion caused a flash of light to blossom, and he turned to watch a smoky mushroom cloud rise into the sky outside the wall. The mushroom cloud was briefly illuminated by a flash of orange and red fire before it went dark.
“I got that part too, sir,” Berry said.
“Then I’ll leave you to it.” McDaniels turned and shouted to Roads, “Master Sergeant Roads! I’m headed back to the TOC. You staying or coming with?”
Roads waved to McDaniels and gave Forringer a quick fist bump, then jogged toward McDaniels. The two men retraced their steps, heading back to the operations center.
A group of SEALs heading in their direction saw McDaniels and waved him away.
A chief petty officer shouted, “You can’t come this way, sir! We’ve got some stenches in the area, and we’re trying to track them down!” From his tone of voice, it was obvious he didn’t mean the statement to come across as a recommendation.
“Roger that. Good hunting, and you guys keep safe.” McDaniels turned to the left, cutting down another lane that led right past his tent. As they approached it, he wondered if there was anything there that he might need to pick up before he was finally able to bug out. He had everything in his pack at the TOC, and other than the cot he had been sleeping on, he couldn’t think of anything.
“I’m a little worried about that, sir,” Roads said. He clutched his M4 tightly and appeared to be trying to look everywhere at once.
“What, the SEALs hunting down zeds?”
“Well, that, and the fact that the zeds are apparently making it further into the camp. Means the forward line is pretty porous, given the amount of guys we have up there. I mean, we have, what, two hundred shooters pouring lead into that gap? How many stenches can make it through that?”
McDaniels eased his HK across his chest and put his right hand on its pistol grip. “They’re probably starting to come across the wall in certain spots. Or maybe they’re bleeding around the edge of the engagement area. Lots of activity down there, and with our guys having to fall back periodically, we’re going to get more of them inside.”
“Still not feeling the love, sir.” Roads marched ahead as they came to an intersection, and he cleared it quickly.
McDaniels did the same, checking in both directions for anything that might resemble a stench. As he was about to step past, movement caught his eye, and he stepped back into the intersection. He saw Gartrell approaching, his AA-12 at port arms.
“Dusty, hold up.” He stood in the intersection as Roads fell back beside him. “Sergeant Major,” McDaniels said.
“Colonel. What’s up, Dusty?”
“Bro, you want a no-shit assessment of our circumstances from a military intelligence professional?” Roads asked over his shoulder as he covered one lane with his weapon.
“Not really,” Gartrell said.
“We are totally bug-fucked, man,” Roads said anyway.
“I’ll try not to take that personally, Dusty,” McDaniels said. He looked at Gartrell. “No joy, huh?”
“I have one stop left to make,” Gartrell said. “What are you guys doing out here? We have some perimeter security issues, in case you didn’t know.”
“We heard. Our friendly neighborhood SEALs gave us the quick rundown,” McDaniels said. “We’re headed back to the TOC now. We went down to the cash to meet with the senior Corps of Engineers officer so I could give him some instructions face-to-face.”
“We have these things called radios, sir. And we also have other things called subordinates to do that kind of stuff.”
“I’ll try to remember that for next time, Gartrell. Where are you off to?”
Gartrell pointed up the lane they were about to walk down. “That way,” he said.
“Well, we’re headed in the same direction,” Roads said. “Stick with us, Gartrell. We’ll keep you safe from all the goblins.”
“The last time you said that, you set me up on a date with your mother,” Gartrell said.
“It was a pity mission, man. Hell, I even covered her usual fee. You needed to get laid bad.”
McDaniels looked at the tall Special Forces intelligence NCO. “You always talk about your mother like that, Dusty?”
“Like what, sir?”
“Don’t ask any questions, Colonel,” Gartrell said. “It’s a wonder that such a primitive life form as Master Sergeant Roads can speak at all.”
“That might be so, but at least I wasn’t so hard up I did my mother,” Roads said, as he glanced behind them, checking to ensure they were clear from behind. Despite the banter, he was still staying operational and making sure the threat level didn’t go through the roof.
“Enough, gentlemen. Enough,” McDaniels said. “Stay sharp and keep your eyes open for zeds.”
As they approached McDaniels’s tent, Gartrell hurried toward it. Holding his AA-12 in one hand, he swept open the flap and peered inside. He shook his head. “And there you are, you little bugger.”
McDaniels looked in while Roads stood overwatch. He swore and stepped inside, followed by Gartrell and, after a moment, Roads. Lenny sat on his father’s cot, his shotgun across his lap. He practically leaped to his feet when McDaniels stepped inside.
“Hi, Dad,” he said.
“Leonard. What in the hell are you doing in here?” McDaniels snapped. “Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?”
Lenny looked from McDaniels to the other soldiers, then back to his father. “I was waiting for you, Dad.”
“Why would you wait here? Look around, son. Do you see anything I might be coming back for?”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to cause—”
McDaniels pointed at Gartrell. “Sergeant Major Gartrell has been combing the camp looking for you while I was tied up in operations. You put his life at additional risk, and you put your own life at extreme risk by disobeying me and not getting on that helicopter!” He stormed over to the cot, grabbed Lenny’s arm, and steered him toward the tent’s exit.
Gartrell glared at Lenny silently, his expression anything but accommodating. Roads held open the flap with a rueful smile.
“You’re out of here on the next chopper that comes in, boy,” McDaniels said as he yanked Lenny along behind him. He glared over his shoulder at the boy, amazed at how angry he felt—and also amazed at the relief that almost brought tears to his eyes. “Even if I have to truss you up and have someone sit on you, you’re—”
“Dad, watch out!” Lenny cried as he ripped his arm free. At the same time, Roads grabbed a handful of McDaniels’s BDU blouse and yanked him off to one side, fumbling with his M4. McDaniels snatched at his rifle and started to bring it around as the necromorph outside lunged into the tent, knocking Roads’s M4 out of his hands. From the corner of his eye, McDaniels saw Gartrell raise his AA-12, then heard him let out a bitter curse as he stepped to his left, trying to get an angle on the ghoul that wouldn’t involve hitting anyone else in the narrow confines. Lenny was in the best position to deal with the threat, and as it bore down on him with outstretched arms, he raised the Mossberg shotgun and blew off its head. The corpse tumbled over onto its back, and Lenny fired another blast into its chest.
Black gore splattered across Roads as he regained his balance. “Okay, kid, okay! You got it, cowboy!” He looked down at the droplets of gore that clung to his uniform. “And shit, you might’ve shot me, too!”
“You’re all right, you big sissy,” Gartrell snapped. “What the fuck’s wrong with you? Why weren’t you watching for any of those things?” He peered outside, then stepped into the lane between the tents. “We’re clear, looks like it was solo,” he said, cutti
ng off Roads before he could say anything.
McDaniels grabbed Lenny. The boy was shaking, his shotgun still trained on the headless corpse, his eyes wide. “Lenny? Son, are you all right?”
“Yeah, I’m okay,” Lenny said softly, his voice barely audible. From the airfield, the pounding rotorbeats of an MH-47 could be heard. They grew distant, and McDaniels realized Lenny had missed yet another helicopter.
“I’m okay, too,” Roads said. “Just in case anyone was worried about me.” With that, he joined Gartrell outside.
McDaniels hugged Lenny to him, then pulled him around the motionless zombie and out of the tent. “Stay with me, son.”
“That’s what I want to do,” Lenny said.
McDaniels sighed. “We’ll talk about that later, damn it.” When they were outside, he looked at Gartrell and Roads. “All right, let’s get back to the TOC.”
21
“Colonel, Rapier needs to talk to you ASAP,” Captain Chase said when they returned to TOC. He looked at the bloody crust on Roads’s uniform, then at Leonard McDaniels and the shotgun he carried.
“What’s the issue?” McDaniels asked.
“Not sure, sir. The call just came across, and I was going to raise you on the net when you walked in,” Chase reported.
“Sir, the cash is about to fall under direct attack,” Switchblade said. “Talking with Commander Rawlings now. He’s had to shrink the perimeter even further. They were almost overrun twice, and there are still zeds out there with weapons taking potshots at the troops. And the mass is starting to come over the walls. We’ve got troops in pretty much danger close contact on the containers.”
“Get the cash evacuated,” McDaniels ordered. “All patients are to be moved to the airfield right away. Aviation, what’s inbound to us?”
“Colonel, Rapier’s holding for you,” Chase said. “It’s Rapier Actual this time, sir.”
“Tell him I’m busy. Carmody, what’s the story?”
“One medical evacuation helicopter is inbound, a civilian LifeFlight helicopter,” Carmody said. “I’m told it can take two patients, or maybe five ambulatory. After that, we have a six minute pause, then our Black Hawk comes in with empty tanks. Fifteen minutes to do a full hot refuel and load up before it can pull pitch.”
“Start loading up the MH-6s with people and get them out of here,” McDaniels said. “They don’t have to make it to Holloman if they don’t have the range, but they need to start ferrying civilians out of here. To anywhere where there’s an airport, or just someplace where there aren’t any necromorphs. Overload them, Carmody. And the same with the UH-60. Don’t fill up its tanks. Give it enough juice to get the hell out of here and to another safe destination.”
“On it.” Carmody turned back to his radios.
“Switch, make sure you have troops at the airfield with those MRAPs, and assign someone to find Captain Berry from the engineers. He’s going to fortify some road rollers to flatten out the zeds for us when we drive out of here. Start loading all MRAPs with civilians, and put soldiers in any others that are available. Get those six-by-sixes ready to go as well. They might be death traps if the zeds catch them outside the walls, but it beats dying inside.”
“Roger that, sir.”
Gartrell approached McDaniels. “Sir, you want me to square away the engineers? No need to pull shooters out of the line.”
McDaniels thought about it for a moment. He was suddenly aware of the crushing fatigue he felt, and he lowered himself into his chair. “All right, Sarmajor, see to that. Switch, cancel that last; Gartrell has the mission to liaise with the engineers.”
“Roger, Colonel.”
“Watch yourself, Gartrell,” McDaniels cautioned as the rangy NCO moved for the door.
“Count on it, sir.”
McDaniels looked around the operations center, trying to think of what else to do, what else he needed to tell his staff. Captain Chase was listening to a voice in his headset, but he kept his eyes on McDaniels.
Rapier is waiting. McDaniels waved Lenny toward the empty chair at Gartrell’s station and warned him not to touch anything, then he reached for the satellite phone on the charger. A link was already active, and he brought the phone to his ear.
“This is Leonidas. Over.”
“Leonidas, this is Rapier Six,” General Abelson said. “Cordell, what’s the status of your evacuation? Over.”
“Rapier, this is Leonidas. Evac is going at a snail’s pace, but we’re getting people out of here bit by bit. Still working on clearing the civilians. Listen, Rapier, we’re up to our necks in necromorphs here, and we’re losing our ability to contain them. I have to ask again for more airlift assets. Over.”
“Leonidas, this is Rapier. We’re pulling everything we can. We have a medium lift battalion that we chopped away from the 4th Infantry’s aviation brigade. You’ll have eight CH-47F Chinooks touching down in a little over ninety minutes. You’ve got Air Force CV-22s inbound as well. Your controllers should already have the arrival estimates. We also have civilian aircraft coming in, from for-hire utility companies to private citizens and industry. How long until you can get everyone out, Leonidas? Over.”
“Rapier, Leonidas. That depends, sir. We’re having to contract our defensive perimeter, and we have necromorphs on the walls now. To be honest, the Chinooks are going to help us out a lot, but ninety minutes is a long time to wait. I’ve already given the orders to load up the civilians in the MRAPs, because if things continue to deteriorate, we’d be better off trying to make a run for it than sit here and wait. Over.”
“Leonidas, this is Rapier. Cord, listen to me. You need to have the task force evacuated and at least forty miles northwest before dawn. That’s when the rest of the necromorphs will be massing around the facility. I can’t emphasize this enough. You have to be clear by zero six hundred. Every stench in the country is going to be showing up. Over.”
“Rapier, this is Leonidas. Sir, we already knew that. We’re moving people out as quickly as possible, but why is there a time limit all of a sudden? Over.” McDaniels was puzzled by the sudden urgency in Abelson’s voice. Something had changed, and he wondered what the hell it was.
“Leonidas, this is Rapier. Listen closely, Cord. The National Command Authority has been briefed on what’s happening in your area. The fact is, every stench in the country is converging on your area of operations. We don’t know why, and we probably never will know why, but the prevailing wisdom is that the necromorphs somehow know that the activity at the InTerGen facility is a direct threat to them. It doesn’t make sense, and there’s no science to support the presumption, but the observations are clear: every satellite and recce aircraft we’ve used has shown that the zeds are on the march. Almost all of them are in Texas now, and the greatest concentration is within hours of your area. This is of extreme interest to the NCA, and with consultation with the Joint Chiefs, the National Security Advisor, and other key personnel, including CG SOCOM, the decision has been made to release a nuclear weapon against the build up. At zero six hundred, a twenty-five megaton nuclear bomb will be released by a B-52H. I’m told the blast radius will be over ten miles, and that everything within that zone will be completely destroyed. Everything outside of that will be severely damaged, and the experts believe that most of the stenches will be decimated by the thermal radiation. Anything that’s left will be handled by conventional ground forces operating under MOPP IV conditions. Good copy on that so far? Over.”
McDaniels was stunned. He had heard everything Abelson had said, but he didn’t know how to respond. A nuclear weapon? On American soil? Was the necromorph threat really that advanced? And then he remembered that the Russians had done the exact same thing, only too late in the game, and as far as anyone knew, the Russian Federation was now in the history books.
“Uh… Rapier, this is Leonidas. I, uh, I need you to confirm that at zero six hundred hours local time, a nuclear weapon will be detonated over our area of operations. Over.”
Every head in the operations center turned toward McDaniels.
“Leonidas, this is Rapier. You have it correct. At zero six hundred local, a nuclear weapon will be released over your position. You need to be at least forty miles northwest. The prevailing winds are forecast to be moving to the east, so you will likely be spared the fallout. This will be an air burst, to generate as much thermonuclear activity as possible to kill the necromorphs at their anticipated peak assembly time. Do you understand what you need to do? Over.”
“Roger, Rapier. Leonidas understands that at zero six hundred tomorrow morning, Joint Task Force SPARTA will have ringside seats to a nuclear holocaust.”
***
Things weren’t going so well at the front. Even though Rawlings had the best troops on the planet at his disposal, there just wasn’t enough firepower to go around. Every time the line of shooters was pushed back, more zombies slipped inside the camp. Most came straight at the defenders, but others cut to the left or the right, shambling over the bodies of their fallen where they disappeared amidst the warren of staged equipment, generators, tents, and trailers.
One of the first things Rawlings had tried to do when he took over the line was to order some troops to maneuver one of the semi-trucks toward the gap to try to block the opening with the vehicle’s forty-eight-foot trailer. That had been a disaster. Even though dozens of troops tried to provide security, the vehicle was overwhelmed by the legion of the dead, and the driver was pulled from the cab and torn to pieces. The vehicle lay halfway between the line and the gap, and the zombies were able to use it for concealment. Not that many did, but the bullet-pocked trailer reduced the sightline and gave the horde enough cover to mass even further, mostly shielded from small arms fire, before boiling into the camp.
“Ops, this is Cadillac Six. I need to talk with the Apaches direct. Over!” he shouted into his radio headset’s microphone as he crouched behind a hastily arranged sandbag revetment. He fired his HK416 into the horde, dispatching as many stenches as he could. Beside him, Rangers, Green Berets, and SEALs did the same, their SCARs, M4s, and HKs barking and cracking.
The Rising Horde, Volume Two Page 23
