As they limped toward them, someone else shouted, “WE HAVE A HOSTILE IN BOUND!”
Cale quickly corrected, “NEGATIVE! THAT’S A FRIENDLY! HE’S IN ACUs!”
Their shouting now alerted the insurgents that someone had gotten away. Two of them now followed the limping soldier.
“Shit,” Cale said.
“What?” Zach asked.
“They’re chasing him.”
Someone down the line relayed this back in a shout.
“HOLD YOUR FIRE!” McGregor ordered.
Someone would have to provide cover fire.
“EVERYONE HOLD YOUR FIRE UNTIL TOLD OTHERWISE!”
McGregor approached Zach and Cale. If he could count on anyone not to get trigger happy, it’d be Cale.
“If they get close to him I want you to put a round in them. Center mass, okay?” McGregor asked.
“Roger,” Cale said back.
He wasn’t hesitant to confirm his order, but he would if it came time to pull the trigger.
“Fuck,” he thought to himself. He really didn’t want to shoot anyone.
Cale watched, as the two locally dressed men closed the gap between themselves and his fellow soldier. They both wore long white clothes. Neither of them wore a headdress that Cale could see. Nor were either of them carrying a weapon. They looked to be about fifteen feet behind the soldier, and the soldier was now about ninety yards from the firing line. All three of them were inside Cale and Zach’s sector of fire. Twelve feet. Now ten. They were gaining on the soldier. Cale placed his finger loosely over the trigger. Firing with goggles on was difficult. He lined up his shot. He was sweating now, his heart beating hard and fast. His hands began to shake. Cale drew in an uneasy breath, and then exhaled slowly. He gently began applying pressure to the trigger.
A shot rang out, breaking the silence. Cale was surprised. Someone else took the shot. Cale’s intended target went down. “WHO THE FUCK WAS THAT?” McGregor demanded.
No one answered. Cale quickly lined up the next shot, and finally fired. Insurgent number two fell back onto the white rock of the motor pool. The injured soldier continued limping to them, unaffected by the shots. Target number one began to recover.
“What the fuck?” Cale said, “He just got back up.”
“Was he hit?” McGregor asked.
“Roger. They must be wearing body armor,” Cale stated.
That was uncommon, for insurgents to be wearing protective anything was strange. Only the specially trained ones wore anything. Even then, he’d be armed to the teeth from a sniper’s nest if that were the case. The second hostile began to recover as well. Someone down the line put another shot into each of them.
By now McGregor had figured out who was firing out of order. It was Brower. She was a country girl, through and through. Always had to prove she could compete with the boys. Her father had always wanted a son, but settled for her after his wife developed cervical cancer.
“GOD DAMN IT BROWER! DOES THAT LOOK LIKE YOUR FIRING LANE?” McGregor was pissed now.
Cale ignored the commotion and looked at the approaching soldier. Why didn’t he react? Any other soldier would have hit the dirt; it’s what they were trained to do, take cover. Cale could make out his face now. It was darkened, and looked as though he’d been beat pretty bad. His ACUs were darkened, too, most likely blood. The leg he continued to limp on was a mess. From what Cale could make out, his pants were torn, and his calf was messed up. The fact he was walking on it at all was unbelievable.
“We’re gonna need a medic or a combat life saver. He’s hurt pretty bad,” Cale said to McGregor.
“Roger. FOX, GET OVER HERE!” McGregor shouted.
Specialist Fox was a combat medic. Back home he worked as a Paramedic for a fire station. Despite being very proficient in his skills, he was a mousy guy, shy, and kept to himself. He made most people nervous to be on the road with him. No one was sure if he could handle the pressure of war and still perform.
“BROWER! SINCE YOU THINK IT’S OKAY TO FIRE EVEN THOUGH YOU WERE INSTRUCTED TO HOLD YOUR FIRE, WHY DON’T YOU GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE TOO?”
McGregor was really pissed. Both soldiers ran to meet the platoon leader. The wounded soldier stumbled, about fifty yards from them now. He was face down on the white rock. Behind him, his two pursuers were still laid out. Further back the rest of the group began to move toward them. Spread out and slow, very slow.
“Hurry over and get him. I want him in our perimeter before any of the others get close,” McGregor barked.
Fox winced, and Brower nodded. The duo jogged out to him.
“Everyone else provide cover, but do not fire until fired upon,” McGregor ordered.
Cale watched as they quickly grabbed the soldier and dragged him back to the firing line. One of the generators roared back to life. The light was going to be needed after all. Fox and Brower positioned the unknown soldier. Zach’s eyes adjusted to the light so he could watch.
Shots were still being fired at the company over. Fox assessed his patient as Brower watched.
“He doesn’t have a pulse and he isn’t breathing,” Fox stated.
Quickly he went to work. He needed to get him breathing again. He instructed Brower what he needed her to do and began emptying his medic bag. He handed her a strange looking device.
“This is a bag-valve mask. I need you to put this part over his nose and mouth, and then squeeze the cuff when I tell you to,” Fox said, sounding confident.
“Roger,” Brower said.
It was a good thing that Fox was confident, because this was the most frightened Brower had ever felt in her life.
“Now,” Fox said.
Brower squeezed the cuff, and then Fox began bouncing off the soldier’s chest with his hands laid atop each other and arms straightened. Zach was relieved it wasn’t him helping. For someone’s life to be dependent on you was a lot of pressure. Most of the soldiers stopped watching the sectors to observe what was going on inside the perimeter.
“Again,” Fox ordered.
Brower squeezed again and Fox continued his work. The soldier suddenly began moving. His eyes opened.
“He fucking did it,” Zach said.
That had to have been the most amazing thing he’d seen since they’d arrived in Iraq. To see mousy little Fox actually save a life, now that was awesome. Fox began trying to talk to his patient. His face and neck had been badly mutilated, along with his left calf. What was curious was that the bleeding had stopped. He should be hemorrhaging out of control right now, but he wasn’t. His skin was cool and dry. He had to be in shock. Brower removed the mask.
“I’m a medic. I need you to stay still. Can you do that for me?” Fox asked.
The soldiers’ mouth was moving, but Fox couldn’t hear anything. He leaned in closer so he could hear better, but he leaned in too far. The soldier lurched up and bit into Fox’s neck. Brower froze, as Fox fought to get away. He pulled back, but the chunk of flesh in the soldier’s teeth remained. Blood sprayed the three of them. Brower fell backward into the dirt. Each beat of Fox’s heart sent more blood soaring. Quickly, he placed his hands on his wound. He had to apply pressure. Now everyone was watching in horror. The soldier stood up awkwardly. Fox lay on the ground, gurgling, as he quickly bled to death.
Frozen in shock by what she had witnessed, Brower sat there, watching the soldier slowly turn toward her. He stumbled toward where she had fallen. She fumbled with her weapon. She managed to shoot her assailant in the chest as he fell on top of her. Unfazed, he began tearing into her flesh, biting her face. Her screams filled the air as other soldiers rushed to her aid. They pulled him off her, but he took over half of her face with him. Without thinking, they opened fire on him. It wasn’t long before his body was full of holes, his face now too mangled to make out who he was. Quickly, the other medics attended Brower and Fox. Every medic knew Fox was already dead, but they had to try. Cale and Zach watched in disbelief.
“OH MY GOD!!” so
meone shouted.
Cale and Zach turned around to face their sectors again. They’d been too preoccupied to notice that the group was now just twenty feet away.
“STOP OR I’LL FIRE!” Zach yelled.
“OGAF!” Cale ordered. ‘Ogaf’ meant stop in Arabic. Something Cale made sure to remember.
The group still moved toward them. They looked crazed; and could finally be seen in the light. They wore disheveled and bloody clothing, and some of them had meat hanging off their bodies. The white glimmer of bone could be seen in some of their wounds. Cale panicked and began firing. Zach followed. It wasn’t long before everyone was firing in all directions, regardless of having a target. They were all frantic now.
As everyone else fired, the medics just watched as Fox sat up.
“HOLY---” one of the medics began to say.
Just then, Fox lunged at them, teeth snapping wildly. He managed to pin one of them down, as the others spread out, running for their lives. Despite shooting into the approaching crowd, it continued to close in on the company.
“FALL BACK TO THE STAGE!” Top yelled.
By stage he meant the building foundation that remained from an earlier time. Some of the soldiers were being overrun and attacked by now.
“WHAT DID HE JUST FUCKING SAY?” Zach yelled over the gun fire.
“HE SAID FALL BACK!” Cale replied.
Zombies
Zach and Cale were among the very few who managed to fall back to the stage. Some people went into the basement, despite the danger of electrocution, but Cale and Zach went up top. Even though they only gained five feet of elevation, they had a better view of what was taking place around them. The flood light illuminated the area with spooky shadows. The intruding mass was spread out into groups. At the center of those groups, were people they had known, now being torn apart. McGregor quickly rallied them into a circle.
“CONTINUE FIRING!” He ordered.
McGregor was now in charge. Top had gone back to the company operations building. McGregor was positive he’d seen him get taken down though. The remnants of the company fired until they were forced to fall back again. The MWR (morale, welfare, and recreation) trailer was the only place to go, now that they were surrounded. They were in disbelief of how quickly things turned. Some of the soldiers were still in shock. Once inside, they barricaded the door to the MWR trailer. Zach and Cale were against one of the walls. The one light in the middle of the ceiling barely lit the room. There were only about fifteen survivors now. Among them were Cacy, Bret, and Travis. Outside, the screams of the ones who didn’t make it to safety could be heard, along with the throaty moans of their attackers. The walls were shaking. They were trying to get in.
“Do you believe this shit?” Cale asked.
Zach stared silently.
“What just fucking happened?” Cale said, expecting no answer.
Everyone was talking. Trying to make sense of what they had all just witnessed. There were friendlies out there attacking each other. Could this be the African disease thing the world was talking about before they were cut off? McGregor took a head count. Most of those remaining belonged to second platoon. There was one from first, and the last six including him were from third platoon. The soldier from first platoon was hurt. He was bleeding profusely. Cale didn’t really know this soldier; he’d only seen him in passing, from time to time. His name tape read York, a short guy with blonde hair. It was apparent he hit the gym frequently. His body was shaped, as Cale would describe, like a female’s uterus. None of that muscle meant anything in a war where you never faced your enemy directly.
Cale watched as McGregor and a soldier from second platoon rushed to help him. They both laid their weapons on the floor next to them. Zach was watching them too, clutching his rifle. He was ready to use it if he had to. He noticed how the ones who were attacked would then join the attackers. Still in disbelief about what this could mean, he was clear about what would need to be done.
The entire room watched, as their new leader assisted by another soldier tried to help York. It wasn’t long before he died. He had lost too much blood. Zach watched his body even after everyone turned their backs.
“How is everyone on ammo?” McGregor asked.
Everyone gave thumbs up or a nod. Zach continued his survey of York’s lifeless corpse.
“Okay, now we’re going to establish a chain of command here,” McGregor said as he looked around the room.
Other than the soldier who assisted him, the rest were specialists and privates.
“Sergeant Rowan here will be second in command. Roger.”
Everyone gave a nod. Cale looked around. The room was filled with scared faces.
“What we’ll do now is---“McGregor never got to finish his sentence. York’s once lifeless body sprang to life, and jumped at him in a flash, tearing out his throat with his teeth. Zach watched it happen, but it was too quick to shout a warning. Rowan attempted to help but was attacked as well. The side of his face was ripped off in an instant. York sat there chewing the flesh contentedly. Everyone fanned out against the walls, as far from the onslaught as possible.
Zach quickly moved forward, switching his weapon from Safe to Semi, as he did. Without hesitating, he shot York in the back of the head. McGregor let out one final gasp and was limp. Zach put a round through his head as well. Rowan may not have been dead just yet, but Zach made sure he wouldn’t be coming back either.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” one of the soldiers screamed at him.
“DON’T KNOW IF YOU NOTICED BUT ANYONE WHOSE BEEN ATTACKED BECOMES ONE OF THEM!” Zach screamed back.
“BUT STILL!” the soldier continued.
“But still what?” Cale came to Zach’s defense. “Zach is right. We all watched Fox die. Then he got back up!”
“What are you suggesting?” someone else asked.
Zach and Cale exchanged nervous glances. Neither of them wanted to say it. It sounded absurd.
“They’re---they’re---” Cale started.
“Zombies,” Cacy finished.
Some of the others laughed.
“Go ahead and laugh. You’re going to die if you don’t listen,” Zach said sternly.
“This is ridiculous. Who is the highest rank in here?” the first soldier who’d objected asked.
They all looked around. The majority of them were the same rank. None of them were leaders of anything. Zach returned to his place on the wall next to Cale and Cacy. Travis sat cross legged on the floor, just past them. The soldiers in second platoon argued amongst themselves about date of rank, and who would be in charge. This was like a Romero movie. Zach crouched next to Cale.
“They’re not going to believe us,” Zach said quietly.
“You know what? Forget them. I say we devise our own plan,” Cale responded.
“But what about them?” Zach motioned toward the rest of the group.
“Don’t be so noble,” Cale said, “they’ll be fine without us.”
Cacy and Travis were listening to the roommates discuss their plan.
“We’re with you. Whatever you decide,” Travis whispered.
“So what is the plan?” Zach asked.
“Is it too early for desertion?” Cale inquired reluctantly.
“There’s no more command structure I suppose,” Zach answered. “So what do you intend?”
8
Self-Preservation
“Self-preservation does come to mind,” Cale answered.
“There is no way we’ll last long here.”
“What are we going to need?” Travis asked.
“The trucks are already packed with MREs and cases of water” Cale explained. “We’ll just need the jump bags we take on missions.”
“Where are we going to go?” Zach inquired.
“West. We go west till we hit the Mediterranean Sea. Go up the coast and follow in to Eastern Europe,” Cacy continued, “Work our way across Europe, and find a boat. Go home.”
“Wow, you just came up with all of that?” Cale asked.
“Kinda. I really like geography, so fuck off,” Cacy replied.
“So it’s decided. We’ll nab some extra supplies out of the other trucks. Load up one truck and go west,” Cale whispered.
“I dunno Cale. I still feel weird about leaving them,” Zach said, motioning toward the other group.
“You can’t save those who won’t be saved,” Cale replied.
Outside, their attackers continued pounding on the door and walls. This was going to be a long night. One thing was for sure, no one was going out there now. That was an absolute suicide mission. They had better wait for the action to die down. The bodies of McGregor, York, and Rowan were moved to the back of the structure, and covered by extra blankets they’d found on the shelves. The walls were made of plywood, and very flimsy. It was decided there would be a two-man guard team at all times, to keep watch in case the infected busted through. Each team would watch for one hour. Cale and Zach volunteered for the fourth shift. Cale checked his watch, 0021. If they went to sleep now, they’d get three and a half hours in. But who could sleep at a time like this?
Even an hour later, no one was sleeping. They were too amped up, given the situation. That, and the persistent banging on the walls, kept everyone awake. The banging died down and eventually stopped around 0340. The infected outside must have gotten tired of waiting, if that was possible.
“It’s about time our shift started,” Zach nudged Cale.
Cale’s eyes were closed, but he definitely wasn’t sleeping. He had his iPod with him, but didn’t want to miss it if they broke through.
“Thanks,” Cale said as he stood up to stretch.
The other team sat down, but didn’t sleep. No one would be sleeping. Zach walked over to the barricaded door to check if it was still secure. He pushed the shelf used to block the door with his foot. It didn’t budge.
“Good,” Zach said.
Zach and Cale paced the floor, staying vigilant. Everyone lay against the walls, but avoided the back wall where the bodies of the fallen soldiers had been placed. Outside, occasional gunfire could still be heard. The moaning of the infected was constant. Cale looked around. People were beginning to doze off now, even if it were for only a couple of hours. Cale found a place to sit by the secured door. Zach decided he needed to sit too.
Blood on the Sand (Z Plan) Page 4
