Behind them, small numbers of Carriers were emerging from houses on each side of the street. The man he’d left at the end of the alley was picking them off as quickly as he could, although his single rifle wouldn’t hold them back for long. To their front, the Infected had closed half the distance, held back only by the soldiers’ precision fire. They were going to be trapped within seconds if they did not retreat to the foreshore immediately. Something was different about the Infected this time compared to every other that he’d fought them – they were faster for some reason. He’d never seen a Carrier run before.
‘Retreat!’ he shouted in a voice loud enough to cut through the automatic fire and be heard by his men.
They needed no further encouragement and began to edge away from the attacking mob while continuing to shoot. Mark tapped on the shoulders of five men to turn and drop the Infected breaking out of houses to attack them from behind. With even this small decrease in fire power, the following mass of Infected started to close the distance rapidly. The street was too big an expanse to cover, he needed something narrower.
Mark reached the lane where he’d left the soldier. A quick glance down it demonstrated that the gate he’d been worried about had held. Whatever had been smashing it had given up, likely drawn to the front of the house and the sound of the fight at the intersection. The lane was little wider than an average car, paved with rough slabs of bluestone. Mark waved the majority of his men back into the alley, holding the entrance with four privates. With all inside, they started to back up at walking pace. Mark’s trigger clicked on an empty chamber and he stepped back out of the line to reload, quickly replaced by one of the other men. The majority of his platoon was now twenty metres distant, as they scouted for other signs of danger or escape. High walls reared on either side, the backs of sheds that had been built on the rear property lines. At the back of one property hung a heavy steel gate, bolted into a brick wall. Glancing through the opening, he saw a clear route past a house to the foreshore. He made his decision.
‘These bastards are moving too fast for us to withdraw like this to the barracks. We need to create some space, so the majority can retreat,’ he said, pausing briefly to drag a breath into his chest. ‘I need four volunteers to help me block the laneway. Ten minutes should give the rest of the crew enough distance between them and the mob for a sprint back to the fort. Who’s with me?’ Mark asked, scanning the soldiers nearby.
A few looked away. ‘I need an answer now, damn it!’ shouted Mark above the gunfire. ‘This is our one chance to ensure the majority live!’
‘I’ll stay, Sarge,’ said a Private named Lachlan, not more than eighteen years old. Mark swallowed, dry spit refusing to budge in his throat. Why the fuck did they have to be so bloody young?
‘Good,’ he said with a brisk nod, ‘Who else?’
Two other Privates raised a hand, then the Corporal hocked an angry gob of green phlegm onto the fence and grunted, ‘I’m in, but for the record, that officer’s gone and got us killed. He better not be celebrated as a fucking war hero after this.’
‘Don’t worry, we’re not dead yet, and I plan on shoving this bullshit plan right down the throat of command when we get back.’ Mark broke eye contact with the Corporal and looked back at the other volunteers. ‘Everyone make sure they’ve got a fresh magazine loaded and another ready to go.’
The soldiers switched magazines from their webbing, with another checked and put in easy reach.
‘You all ready?’ asked Mark. The faces in front of him were tense, deep creases cut into foreheads as they concentrated on the task at hand. They nodded. Mark shouted the new plan to the rest of the squad.
With a tap on the shoulder to notify the soldiers holding the laneway that they were being relieved, the five volunteers changed positions and formed a new line standing shoulder to shoulder. Carriers had advanced ten metres into the laneway, scrambling over a barrier made from the corpses of those that had tried before them. Each man in line concentrated their aim on the area directly ahead to avoid doubling up on the same Carrier. The press of Infected outside the laneway was a seething mass of anger, ripping violently at each other to gain access to the soldiers. Mark drew quick beads on each head that appeared at the barrier of dry torn flesh, firing single rounds in rapid succession.
He risked a quick glance back over his shoulder and saw the last of his platoon leaving the laneway a hundred metres distant. They just needed to hold out for a few minutes more to be certain. The flood of diseased flesh coming at them was increasing, outweighing their ability to catch each one as it appeared. Gradually the Infected were making headway, despite growing a tide of corpses toward the men. Less than ten metres separated their rifles from the undead. Mark’s ears were stunned by the proximity of the other rifles, each shot hammering his ear drums painfully; and yet the snarls of rage emitted from the Infected still penetrated.
Unwittingly, the men were forced to edge backward to stay out of reach. Mark’s thigh brushed against the steel gate he’d chosen as their escape point. He’d hoped that they’d be able to hold out longer, but it would have to do. He kicked it open wide enough for a man to pass through.
‘Our job’s done, get through the gate!’ he shouted, and let loose a stream of automatic fire along the width of the laneway to cover his men as they ducked through the gap. Mark followed the last man, rammed the gate closed again and dug his shoulder into it while he desperately tried to drive the locking pin home.
The gate shuddered as Carriers hit the other side, driving his feet backward as it opened enough for two hands to slip through, grasping blindly for anything within reach. The other men added their weight to Mark’s to slam it shut. The Carrier’s fingers were severed, dropping like fat white worms to the ground. Mark finally managed to slide the bolt home and secure the gate.
‘That won’t hold them for long, let’s get the fuck out of here,’ said Mark between heaving breaths. He felt something wet trickle down the side of his face and found blood oozing from his ears. A few of the other soldiers were the same, their eardrums perforated by the sheer volume of gunfire in the laneway.
The metal panels of the gate began to buckle under the weight of Infected behind. Mark saw the metal pin in the lock begin to bend inwards. He brought up the rear as they ran down the side of the house. On hitting the street at the far side of the property, a glance over his shoulder showed the gate burst free of its hinges to smash onto the ground. Carriers streamed through the new hole after them.
‘Run for the beach!’
He turned and put on a new burst of speed. The five soldiers surged, blocking all thoughts as they cut through the park, the grass reduced to a blur of green underfoot as they stretched their lead from the Infected.
Mark took point as they hit the thick scrub over the sand dunes, ignoring the dry branches that tore at his clothes as he passed. Abruptly he was through, and tumbled down the first three metres of sand, rolling quickly to his feet. The Infected were less than a hundred metres behind them. Mark led the men at a sprint fifty metres down the beach then back up into the scrub where he got them to lie on their bellies and hide.
He forced himself to slow his breathing as he stared at the sand mere centimetres from his face and strained to listen for the approach of Carriers toward their hiding place. The tinnitus whine of his damaged ear drums drowned out almost all other noise, frustrating his sense of hearing. He needed to know if they’d lost their attackers. Gritting his teeth, he carefully dragged himself on his belly to the edge of the scrub and peered back down to the beach.
Mark was just in time to see the first of the Infected emerge onto the sand, breaking out of the scrub at the same point he and his men had been moments earlier. The ghouls tumbled over each other, falling down the short rise of dune to the damp main beach. The creatures regained their feet, heads whipping back and forth as they sought evidence of the soldiers. Some continued straight into the water to thrash in the surf. In the absence of p
rey, the Carriers began to slow down, the rictus of anger painted upon each face dissipating, replaced by a vacant stare as they began to mill aimlessly on the foreshore.
Mark eased himself out of sight, taking his time to avoid any sudden noise as he crawled back to the men. Silently, he indicated for the soldiers to withdraw. Taking Mark’s lead, the men eased away from the beach, carefully moving below the waist high scrub until they were out of eye and earshot of the Infected. Mark angled south, emerging into the parkland within sight of the Fort. A quick inspection found the area clear of any danger.
‘End’s in sight, boys,’ he said quietly. ‘Let’s go.’ He set off at a jog towards the main gate with his four men close behind. A sharp exclamation from a sentry above the wall noted their arrival and the heavy steel gate began its screeching slide for them to enter. As Mark passed through the shadow of the entrance, he sought out the soldier responsible for the gate.
‘Have the rest of the platoon returned?’ he asked, his eyes searching the Private’s face for an indication.
‘They’re back, and said you held off the main swarm while they escaped – from how they told it, we thought you guys were unlikely to return. Happy to see you proved them wrong, Sarge,’ the Private said with a look of unbridled awe on his face.
Mark ignored the compliment. ‘I don’t plan on dying any time soon, mate. Where are they?’
The Private looked away, his expression hardening with anger at the news to follow. ‘With the medic. They had to fight through a smaller pack of Carriers after leaving you. They did well enough; killed all of them, but not before the bastards managed to rip a few mouthfuls out of our guys.’
Mark didn’t bother with a reply, setting off at a run for the makeshift hospital to find Harry. He didn’t have far to search; Harry was sitting outside the building, morosely smoking a cigarette.
‘How many?’ asked Mark bluntly.
Harry slowly looked up. ‘Five. There was nothing I could do, mate. I gave them a comfortable exit a few minutes ago.’
Mark sat heavily beside him, an overwhelming exhaustion suddenly crushing him mentally and physically.
‘Don’t be too hard on yourself,’ said Harry, pausing for another drag of his smoke. ‘From what I heard, it’s a bloody miracle any of you made it back. Focus on the lives you saved.’
Mark found he had no words to answer as he stared out over the parade ground to the bay. It was only the start, the first of many lives to be lost in the war to come; for that was the only thing his officer had gotten right – the plague wars were just beginning.
***
Mark put the stubbie gently onto the table and slid it across to stand next to his first. He took a slow breath and looked up at the officers sitting opposite, knowing that he had probably killed his career in the army through such a blunt portrayal of the mission. For much of his report, his attention had been turned inward, ignoring the body language of the General as he relived the traumatic day.
Surprisingly, he did not find anger on their faces. General Black in particular seemed thoughtful, as he stripped a paper drink coaster into pieces while staring at the table. Abruptly he stopped and glanced up to meet Mark’s eyes.
‘You painted a rather bleak assessment of your commanding officer, Sergeant Collins. In this instance I think you’re stating the truth rather than trying to bring down the reputation of a fallen man, however, for troop morale – I’d prefer you kept that part of the story to yourself in future.’ General Black stopped, took a small sip from a glass of whiskey and rolled the harsh spirit around his mouth.
‘That being said, today’s mission outcome leaves us with a significant problem. If we can’t enter even a small town on foot, what hope do we have for retaking our larger urban centres? We have to come up with a different strategy that provides our troops with relative safety – loss of life on the scale we had today can’t be countenanced. Ethics aside, we just don’t have the bloody numbers to sustain such losses and hope to win in the long term,’ said Black.
‘I thought that was the whole point of taking Geelong, sir?’ said Mark. ‘Once the car manufacturing plants are actively producing armoured vehicles again, we can cull the Infected from their interiors in relative safety. Can we improvise something that would do the same job in the meantime?’
‘Like what?’
‘I don’t know, maybe convert the tray of a semi-trailer so that it carries an enclosed steel cage we could shoot out of, but that the Infected can’t access?’ Mark suggested.
General Black scratched his chin in thought. ‘If we used a number of them to clear the worst swarms in Geelong, do you think mopping up of the remainders could be done on foot?’
‘Small numbers are easily handled. It wasn’t the few that came out of the houses that were the trouble, it was the sheer weight of numbers in the main pack that undid us,’ Mark said. ‘But here in Queenscliff, we have the Fort. Why risk facing the swarm in the open, when we can fight from behind walls. The fort’s a rarity in Australia – surely we should take advantage of it until we come up with a safer way to take on Geelong?’
‘I’d already come to a similar conclusion. Work’s in progress to make it happen,’ said General Black. ‘The other thing I wanted to confirm from your story was how the Carriers moved. You noted they seemed faster than normal?’
‘Yeah. They were almost running, not like the stumbling bastards we’ve fought to date.’
‘Well that backs up news we’ve had from our research centres regarding their behaviour in heat. It appears we’ve been lucky that the outbreak happened in the dead of winter. In the cold, they’re slow, but as it heats up and their body temperature gets closer to the normal range of a live human, they appear to regain improved muscle coordination and speed,’ said General Black.
‘Makes sense I guess,’ said Mark. ‘Just means we target them in the cooler part of the day as we get closer to summer. When do you plan on attracting the Infected to the Fort?’
‘Within a fortnight, but we still need greater numbers to defend the walls. I’ll be damned if we’re going to fail. I want enough soldiers to ensure we can slaughter the bastards without raising a sweat. Reinforcements will be arriving over the next few days, so you’ll have about a week to get your new crew into shape and ready for the fight,’ said General Black.
Mark was caught off guard by the last sentence. ‘What do you men, Sir?’
‘Battlefield commission, Collins. You’re now an officer,’ said General Black with a wry smile on his face. ‘The officer training academy at Duntroon’s not re-opening any time soon, so I’ve reinstated the old practice of promoting enlisted men to the commissioned ranks for exceptional battlefield performance. I need experienced soldiers with a proven ability to lead, and I need them now.’
‘But five of my men died after I took command on that mission, how the hell does that qualify me for the role?’ asked Mark.
‘That’s bullshit, Collins. You need to shut down that negative voice in your head. If you hadn’t acted and changed strategy, you and all of your men would have been killed in action. In my book, that counts as lives saved,’ said General Black. ‘Irrespective of that, my decision’s final. You can pick your own Corporals and Sergeant from the current men on base, otherwise, the bulk of your soldiers will come from the reinforcements.’
Mark nodded, resigned to his new role. ‘Is there anything else, Sir?’
General Black shook his head. ‘No. Touch base with my aide in the morning, and he’ll sort you out with the details.’
Mark eased his chair back from the table and stood up, saluted, and left the dining room. In the hallway beyond, he stopped for a moment with the beginning of a tension headache. Mark took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. Being stuck with the responsibility for an entire platoon of soldiers was the last thing he had sought, but he’d bloody do his utmost to keep them alive.
Chapter Twelve
With the shore forty metres distant, the rigi
d-hulled inflatable slowed in speed, down to a crawl as one of the marines responsible for ferrying them to the Fort leaned out over the side to look down into the water. The boat started to do a slow loop in front of their landing site.
‘Is everything ok?’ asked Steph, a little confused regarding the delay to landing.
The marine who was looking down into the water, glanced briefly at her to acknowledge the question, then back down again, continuing his search. ‘A soldier on one of the earlier transports got taken by a Carrier while wading to shore. We’re doing a quick sweep of the area prior to letting you guys out, thought you’d prefer to stay bite free.’
‘Great, so now they’re in the water too,’ muttered Steph, looking down into the depths herself, a sour taste rising up the back of her throat at the thought of being dragged under the surface.
Something caught the marine’s eye, and he called out to his colleague captaining the boat. ‘Double back mate, I think I saw one.’
Plague War: Pandemic Page 10
