Zombie Theorem (Book 4): Aces Mortis

by James Wallace

“Reaper One that sounds marvelous. How long does it burn for?”

  “Big Bird One, no idea, never dropped one before. But once those houses and buildings down there start to burn, they will feed the flames for a long time I am sure.”

  “Reaper One, if you don’t mind I would like you to lay one of those Hades bombs right down in front of that horde coming in from the bridge’s direction.”

  “Big Bird One, I like all the words you spoke. I would suggest bracing yourselves. The force this thing is going to give off is going to send you guys for a little ride.”

  “Roger all, thanks for your support gentlemen,” Butch radioed out. Butch turned to the pilots. “Please tell me you heard that.”

  The copilot held a finger up as he worked the radio. After a moment, he turned in his seat and looked up at Butch. “I already alerted the troops on the ground and we are now moving off over the ocean.”

  Butch nodded his head in appreciation, he turned to the rear of the Osprey and moved back. “Gents, brace yourselves., we got a big ole ass bomb going off any second,” he grabbed onto a strap attached to the frame of the Chinook and widened his stance.

  The Chinook slewed sideways and then rocked to the right like a giant had just kicked it. Butch stood upright and barely rocked as the rest of the team rode their seats like a bull rider trying to hold on for eight seconds on a bull named Hades. An alarm sounded from the cockpit as the pilot fought to bring the Chinook back under control. The ride smoothed out after what felt like a ride in a washing machine. Butch spit a long stream of tobacco juice into his quickly filling bottle, gave his men a wry smile and stalked his way to the cockpit. The pilots had finished slewing the helo to the left and bringing the after effects of the Hades bomb in all its glory into view. The flames burned high, creating its own wind and feeding the firestorm. The zombies caught in the conflagration, blackened to a crisp, boiling all the fluids in their bodies, exploding organs and pouring out of orifices. The buildings, nature, roads, everything became a scene straight out of hell.

  “That is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen with my own eyes. I wish they made those into grenades. I would find a reason to toss one every chance I could,” Butch’s eyes widened in excitement. “Alright, let’s get this show on the road boys,” he slapped the back of the pilot’s seats.

  The Chinook banked hard and roared into position over the hole ripped open into the warehouse storing the Seals special equipment. Nunzio stared out the window at his men on the ground who were still trying to gain their hearing and feet under them. “You boys still alive down there?”

  A moment went by until a call answered them. “This is Weeks, we got the shit kicked out of us down here and our bells rung. But we are mobile and shaking off the effects. From down here that going off was like the hand of God smiting the fallen angels,” Nunzio had to take a moment to think of who Weeks was. Then it dawned on him. The man was Ensign T.J. Weeks, one of the leaders of Team five. He was competent enough and Nunzio was sure he would have things under control. Even though this was the guy who reveled in walking around the barracks in nothing but his socks. The man had no shame, by now he should’ve been at the rank of Lieutenant but his demeanor kept him at his current rank.

  “Alright Weeks, we’re over the warehouse, we are dropping the sling. Get us set up fast. You guys are going to be on your own for a little while,” Nunzio called down.

  “No worries, Lt. Just leave us one of those Apaches for support.”

  Nunzio turned to Butch. “See how fast military procedures for speaking on the radio goes out the fucking door, when no one is being held accountable?”

  “The important part, Lt. is that shit is getting done fast and at a high competent level. Give them some slack and let’s worry ‘bout shit that matters,” Butch looked down at his filled water bottle of brown vile. He shrugged his shoulders and swallowed the foul tobacco juice.

  “Did you just swallow that shit, Master Chief?”

  “Had no other place to put it and these little prissy pilots don’t like their pretty little helo defiled,” he reached into his mouth and removed the big wad of chew. He looked down at it and over to Nunzio. “Here take this, I got shit to do,” he stuck it into Nunzio’s hand and stalked to the rear bay. He needed to get his men ready to disembark and secure the equipment that had already been delivered to the appointed mountain point.

  Nunzio looked down at the gross wet wad of chew sitting in his hand. He shook his head at Butch’s antics. “Fucking gross,” he found a puke bag on the wall behind him and deposited the refuse in it. He examined his soiled glove and wiped it on his trousers’ leg.

  The pilots got the call they were loaded and ready to go. They increased the power of the engines, sending the rotors clawing into the air in a bid to lift their heavy weight. As the Chinook raised into the air, the straps attached to it tightened and then raised up, revealing an up armored Humvee loaded to the gills with ammo and supplies. The Chinook was the heavy lifter for the military and could carry heavier loads than this, but with an unbalanced load it was best to keep the loads slightly light. Once the Humvee cleared the warehouse, the pilots gained more altitude and headed off in the direction dictated by Butch.

  They flew over the ocean north turning east and inland over the city of Del Mar. Something came to Nunzio as he watched the beach flash by. “Hey, how far is Miramar from here?”

  The copilot pointed out the left side of the cockpit. “Right over there, we will be going right by the airfield.”

  Nunzio racked his brain over the reports he had read earlier, that listed bases controlled by their side and the one Ridder had in its grasp. He turned to the rear and shouted for Butch. He trudged up and ticked his chin at Nunzio. “Master Chief, do you remember who has control of Miramar?”

  Butch looked out the left side of the cockpit and his eyes went wide. “Veer off now!” he shouted. The pilot’s reaction time was paranormal, in the instant Butch yelled out his warning the pilot banked the Chinook to the south, while still being careful not to swing his load around too much. If the Humvee had rocked about uncontrolled, the Chinook would become uncontrollable and possibly crash.

  Just as they had moved, a stream of shells flew by the windscreen. They had no cover due to leaving their support craft back on Coronado protecting his men on the ground. The pilots became busy flipping switches and speaking back and forth across the cockpit, trying to evade the incoming fire. Nunzio jumped on the radio and called out for support, knowing that even if the Apache’s or modified Osprey’s left now at full speed racing towards them they would be too late.

  “Shit, someone from down there does not like us. Dammit, port side incoming fire,” the copilot called from his seat.

  An alarm went off in the cockpit and both pilots looked to each other. “Chaff now, SAM off the starboard closing fast,” a surface to air missile rocketed by the cockpit, just missing them. It passed and exploded just two-hundred yards past the quickly evading Chinook. The explosion rocked them but nothing seemed damaged. “We are sitting ducks if we stay up here any longer.”

  A voice came over the radio. “Nunzio, Chun. I’m in the Dragonhawk coming up behind you. Drop altitude and bank port. I have a hellfire just dying to be fired.”

  Before Nunzio could answer or alert the pilots. The Chinook dropped as fast as it could, dumping altitude and swinging port. Butch craned his head back and tried staring out through the side windows to get a view of the Dragonhawk. He caught a glimpse, just as it fired a five-and-a-half-foot missile off its hardpoint. The rocket motor flashed bright and climbed into the sky, tilted over and raced towards the target being guided by a laser indicator on the Dragonhawk. It ate up the distance in a flash and exploded on contact with an armored track vehicle. The vehicle exploded in a brilliant flash as the explosion of the shaped charge warhead of the Hellfire touched off the rest of the SAMs and other rounds of ammunition ignited.

  “Nunzio, are my boys with you?”

 
“Roger that, Chun. I have your little band of merry misfits with me.”

  “Okay, I want you to fast rope them onto the base. Then continue on your mission. I will support them, we need to neutralize this base or we are all screwed.”

  Nunzio turned to Butch who nodded his understanding. Before he could turn to leave, Nunzio grabbed Butch’s bicep, stopping him. He handed over his FN SCAR-H battle rifle, and his many magazines tucked into his vest pockets. They worked quickly. “You looked weird without a big rifle in your hand. Good luck, Master Chief,” Nunzio gave him a man hug. He then jumped back on the radio as Butch stalked to the rear to ready his men. “Roger all, Chun. Your boys will be going out in five mikes. Now tell me, what the hell took you so long?”

  “Had to pick up a Viking God and top off the fuel tanks.”

  “Tell Thor not to get too used to playing with the big boys. I expect him to get back to work soon.”

  “He said something guttural and then grunted. I take it that means yes, Sir.”

  “Something like that. We will continue ferrying the vehicles and supplies. If you need more support let me know and we will send Reaper Two in to deliver one hell of a scary weapon,” Nunzio offered.

  “Oh, you got to see a Hades in action, huh?” Chun surprised Nunzio.

  “When did you get to see one?”

  “I saw test in Nevada like five years ago,” he got quiet for a second. “You guys might want to hurry. Another one of those armored vehicles is coming your way.”

  Nunzio patted the pilot’s shoulder and then looked back to Butch, who had already opened the rear ramp and kicked out his ropes. Butch waited on the signal from Nunzio. When he saw the thumbs up delivered, Butch and his men jumped out of the Chinook, guiding their bodies with the black nylon rope, using their hands and feet to slow their bodies before colliding with the ground. Once off the rope, the man would move forward and out of the way as his teammate would come down in the same spot seconds later. The process repeated until all the men landed. The ropes fell from the helo and the big Chinook gained altitude and sped away.

  Butch raised his new rifle and scanned the airfield. He spotted the armored track vehicle, and recognized it as a M113 armored personnel carrier. That didn’t make sense though, it was an older APC and not usually found on Navy bases nor used to launch SAMs. Butch motioned for his men to take cover and slid in next to Hashkeh. “That thing should not be here. I want to know why and who is using the damn thing. Can you handle this?”

  Hashkeh raised his head and examined the APC. “Of course, I will take Lupo with me. Give us covering fire, you’ll know when to deliver it,” the big man hand signaled Lupo and they slipped away, running low to the tarmac and disappearing behind a Seahawk helicopter fifty yards away. They hunched down behind the wide body of the helo, out of sight of the APC’s driver and crew. Hashkeh pulled Lupo down close to him and explained his plan.

  “Lupo, we will circle around and come up on the APC from the rear. I will signal our guys to put some rounds downrange. When we reach the vehicle, we will climb on board and drop smoke canisters inside,” Hashkeh explained, never taking his eyes off the target.

  “And how are we going to get a smoke canister into that APC?”

  “We will improvise when we get to that point,” Hashkeh didn’t wait for an answer and moved off at a sprint. He worked his way around other Seahawks lined up side by side.

  Lupo ran after him staying behind and slightly to his right. The last thing he wanted was a round to pass through Hashkeh and into him. This tactic ensured hopefully one of them would make it. They moved to the last helicopter and judged they were only thirty yards away. The APC had come to a complete stop, tracking the rest of the team. Hashkeh stepped out from behind the rear of the Seahawk and stealthily made his way to the rear of the tracked beast. Lupo flanked the APC coming up on the other side. They climbed up and crawled towards the main hatch. Lupo waved slightly to get Hashkeh’s attention. He signaled that he wanted the team to start firing low on the APC to cover the sound of their attempt.

  Hashkeh called over his radio in his silent like voice. “Covering fire low on front of APC,” he clicked off and heard two clicks come over the radio.

  Tracers and rounds came flying from an embankment on the far side of the airfield. Hitting low on the front of the APC and ricocheting off and into the concrete aircraft parking ramp. Lupo and Hashkeh took the opportunity of misdirection to test their hatches. Hashkeh gripped the driver’s hatch and found it was undogged and free to open. He slid a smoke canister from his vest, pulled the pin and swung open the hatch and tossed the canister into the hatch, then slamming it shut in one smooth movement. He looked up and found Lupo slamming his hatch closed, his canister already spewing out and filling the APC’s interior with white acrid smoke and seeping from slits. Both men moved into position so they could cover the hatches.

  One whole minute passed before the main hatch next to Lupo swung open and a man holding a handgun in a two-hand grip, tears pouring from his eyes appeared. Lupo wasted no time and snatched the gun, throwing it to the ground. He used an open palm shot to the side of the man’s head, stunning him and allowing Lupo to yank him from the hatch. Lupo quickly grabbed a big thick black zip tie from his vest pocket and in one often practiced motion, slid it over the man’s hands behind his back and secured him.

  Hashkeh took the opportunity and dove headfirst into the APC, disappearing into the white smoke filled interior. He emerged minutes later, pushing a thin blonde haired woman out of the hatch. Lupo reached down and gathered the unconscious woman and pulled her free, slipping a zip tie around her wrists and pulling it tight. He turned back to find Hashkeh standing on top of the APC, reaching into the hatch and pulling a man from the inside. This man looked like he should not have been able to fit in the APC. He was not muscular, he was fat, obscenely fat. Hashkeh flexed his thousands of hours gained gym muscles and brought the man out, laying him on the APC. Hashkeh didn’t have to secure the man, he was obviously dead, if the hole in his right temple meant anything. The two men climbed down to the ground and sat down, resting their backs against the treads and regained their breath. The white smoke had forced itself down into their lungs, choking them. But they had fulfilled their mission like hundreds of times before.

  Butch led the rest of the team across the aircraft ramp and up to the two resting men. Dio got to work looking over the prisoners, and then checked the fat man’s vitals until he saw the blood dripping puncture to the man’s enormous head. He came back to the team shaking his head. “Those three don’t look like they are from this base, more less than in the service of our beloved military.”

  Butch took his time looking over the two unconscious prisoners then over to the fat man. He went back and examined each person closer. The woman was too thin and obviously had plastic surgery, including fake boobs. He shook his head and moved to the man whose heart was still beating. He looked him over closer, removing the man’s cover and pulling up his sleeves. The tattoos covering his body answered a lot of questions.

  He clicked on his radio. “Chun, get your ass down here. You will not believe what we found.”

  Chun answered by overflying their position and taking a wide circuit around the base before coming back and slowly bringing the Dragonhawk down and kissing the ramp. He hit some switches and went through the shutdown procedure. When the side door slid open and Thor stepped out, a big AA-12 shotgun cradled in his arms. He looked in all directions checking for danger before moving aside and allowing Chun to step out.

  Hootie laughed out loud. “Wow, Lt. Now you have your own personal bodyguard.”

  As Thor walked past Hootie, he stopped mid step and spun on the balls of his feet, pulling his medieval looking double sided battle axe from his back and brought it down, stopping just inches from Hootie’s forehead. It took him a moment to realize that Hootie was smiling and did not look intimidated. Thor tilted his head, then felt the tip of something pressing against his trous
ers. He lowered his head and saw the tip of Hootie’s knife resting against his crotch. “You are without fear, now I see why you are on this team.”

  Hashkeh barked out a laugh, startling the team. “He is not without fear, he is just too stupid to recognize it.”

  “Every team needs that one guy they can send into the teeth first,” Lupo explained as he patted Hootie’s shoulder. “He’s our cannon fodder.”

  Hootie grinned wide and crossed his eyes. “I’m the crazy guy of the team. Now what you say we put our toys away and play nice? Before we lose our heads.”

  Thor raised an eyebrow and looked at the man like he was an enigma he couldn’t figure out. He shook his head slowly and moved his axe back and slung it over his back and into his homemade holster. He laughed merrily and clapped his hands on Hootie’s shoulders. “I like crazy people, they make me laugh.”

  “Stick around Thor, I will keep you in stitches,” Hootie gave him a smile full of so much and yet no meaning at all. Hootie was special that way, Chun and Butch were amazed the man had made it through selection for Team six. But they agreed with Lupo’s assessment. Every team needed that one guy that they could toss into any situation first.

  Chapter 6

  Chun made his way over to the APC and did the same examinations of the prisoners Butch had gone through first. He came back shaking his head. “These guys are not military, and honestly if they are Ridder, then we should be able to stop them with a potato gun,” he massaged his forehead and thought about the next step. “Pull the guy down first and put him in a position so he can see the dead bulbous guy,”

  Lupo, reached up and heaved the guy off the APC and onto the ground. He grabbed him by a foot and dragged him around the APC and positioned him on his knees. He removed a small packet from a pocket and ripped it open, he removed a small vial and cracked it open, shoving it under the man’s nose. He came to quickly and pulled his head back from the ammonia inhalant, before it could burn his nose. His eyes snapped open wide and he moved his head around, taking in the big dangerous armed men encircling him. Chun walked over and took the man’s chin in his hand, forcing his head up so he could see his eyes. They were bloodshot and the pupils were dilated. He stepped around the man and made a big show looking over his arms.