“Yeah. I think he’ll probably shit his pants at least once or twice, but he’ll be okay.”
From behind them, Jefferson scoffed. “Dunno. Guy seems like a pretty boy to me.”
“Give him a chance, Jay jay.” Serrano responded, looking back over his shoulder.
“I’ll tell you what,” Kim chimed in, smiling, “the blonde doctor is hot.”
Shaking his head, Serrano turned back around, reaching for the door that led outside. “Stay focused, Dash. If all goes well, she’ll be here when we get back.”
Kim chuckled. “Gives me something to think about.”
“Focus.” Serrano chided, climbing into the driver's seat of the government van they’d parked out front, half-on, half-off the curb. He grabbed his pair of mirrored sunglasses from the cup holder in the center console and pulled them on, darkening the view of the outside world. Orlosky slid into the front passenger seat, while the others hopped into the back row. No sooner than they were in the van, Serrano put it in gear and pulled away from the curb, the big vehicle bouncing on its shocks as the back tire came down off the curb. Serrano drove across the base, disregarding posted speed limits and stop signs as he did. The team was on a presidential priority mission, and it was unlikely any of the security patrol personnel on base would dare to challenge them. ‘Besides,’ he thought, ‘the damn base is a frickin’ ghost town.’
He pulled into the parking lot in front of the base Dining Facility, which he and his team stubbornly referred to as the ‘chow hall,’ and began looking for parking. With people restricted to the base, the DFAC and the base chapel were the only places base residents still congregated, and with eleven o’clock being the start of lunch service, the parking lot was packed. Short on both time and patience, Serrano pulled up and parked the van in the red zone directly in front of the building’s entrance. As soon as he did, Orlosky and the others piled out of the van, slamming the doors behind them. Serrano set his glasses in the cup holder again and followed his team inside, not bothering to lock the vehicle.
Inside, the place was packed, much like the parking lot outside was. The line extended all the way to the entrance, and Orlosky and the others were struggling to find somewhere to stand without blocking the door.
“I got this.” Serrano said, walking past the line to the front counter, where a Filipino man in his late fifties sat in front of a dormant register. The base wasn’t charging residents to eat, so his sole job was to click the counter in his hand to track how many people they were feeding.
The man saw Serrano approaching and straightened in his chair. “Sir, you have to wait in line.”
Serrano decided to go with charm, rather than aggression, so he smiled at the man as he set his folded hands on the counter. “Hey, boss, my team and I are flying a mission into the shit later tonight. Right now, we need a good meal before we head back to the hangar to get some rest, and we don’t have time to wait in this line.”
The man regarded the muscular Spec Ops warrior in front of him, weighing the odds that he was trying to pull a fast one. They seemed low. The man looked like he ate bark for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and snacked on razor blades between meals. “Okay, sir. Please bring your team through.” Recognizing Serrano’s rank, he added, “You can sit in the Senior Enlisted area.”
Looking at the man’s name tag, Serrano smiled and said, “Thanks, Ernesto,” before turning and beckoning for his team to join him. Several people waiting in line stared in disapproval as they watched the men go to the head of the line, but none said anything.
Like a good leader, Chili let the team go first through the line, making small talk with them as they loaded their trays and plates with food. They went heavy on the baked chicken and the multigrain rolls, knowing they needed the protein and carbs to power them through the long hours ahead. Each of them drank multiple glasses of water, chugging them down with determination, whether they were thirsty or not.
When they’d finished with their meal, Orlosky let out a loud burp that resonated through the eating area.
“Come on, Skee. You know that’s gross.” Jefferson said, shaking his head.
Feeling his beard to make sure no food remnants were trapped within, Orlosky smirked. “Settle down, Jay Jay. I ate a lot. It’s not my fault.”
Covering his mouth with a napkin, Spinelli burped as well, but the napkin muffled the sound, reducing it to a soft bark.
“See?” Jefferson asked, pointing at Spinelli. “Spider burped too, but didn’t have to let everyone know.”
Orlosky stared at Jefferson, unblinking, then let out a massive burp that nearly rattled the windows of the DFAC. Diners turned to look over, shock and disgust showing on their faces.
Rising from his chair, Serrano took charge. “Alright, that’s our cue. We’re out.” He grabbed his tray and took to a tall rack just outside the dishwashing area, dumping the trash before sliding the tray into the rack. His teammates followed suit, falling in behind him as he led them back out into the parking lot, waving at Ernesto as he passed by. “Thanks boss.”
“Yes sir, have a safe trip.”
“Will do. Thanks.”
With their bellies full, Serrano drove the team the rest of the way across the base, passing empty baseball fields, parks, and child development center along the way. Pulling into the parking lot in front of the hangar, he found a spot that had been reserved for government vehicles near the front of the building. Putting the van in park, he turned off the ignition and got out of the vehicle, this time taking the sunglasses with him. Assuming the smoke in Los Angeles wasn’t too thick, he’d need them.
Inside the building, they made their way to the bunk room, which was kept dark at all times, reserved for crew rest. Each found a bunk, removed their boots, and crashed into it, falling asleep almost instantly. It was a skill each had perfected during their missions, allowing them to grab sleep whenever and wherever the opportunity arose.
Six hours later, as agreed upon, the team awoke, switched into PT gear, and did a light workout of one hundred pushups, one hundred pullups, one hundred burpees, one hundred crunches, and a five mile run.
Having worked up a major appetite, they tore through the ten box lunches Sergeant Mason had delivered, barely taking the time to breathe as they shoved the food into their mouths. Again they drank large amounts of water, chugging it down in an effort to fully hydrate themselves.
After showering, the team headed to their pre-established outfitting room, where they donned the rest of their gear. Each man swapped out their standard camouflage pants for ones with knee pads and larger cargo pockets, which they filled with extra magazines for their M4A1 Assault Rifle. Next, they pulled on the camouflage top, which held their comms gear, small medical kits, more magazines, and tactical rope.
Over that, they pulled on a vest that had a plate in the front designed to stop bullets and a hydration pack in the back, along with pockets which they filled with fragmentation grenades.
Around their waists they wore tactical belts that held their 9mm Sig Sauer handguns, canteens, and additional grenades. They each had their preferred knife and gloves, which they pulled from their duffle bags and donned as well.
Each man performed a check of their helmet, verifying the straps, comm gear, and night vision goggles were in good shape.
Finally, they checked the pressure gages on the oxygen canisters, they’d use during the jump, checking to make sure they were full and maintaining pressure.
Once finished, Serrano assigned Kim and Spinelli, the two junior members of the team, to start setting aside gear for Doctor Reed. He wouldn’t get all the weapons they had, but they would provide him with a knife and handgun.
Serrano, Orlosky, and Jefferson went to the next room and began inspecting the parachutes. Even though they knew they were in good shape, each operator knew a re-inspection was a hard requirement, one that was literally the difference between life and depth. Using skilled eyes and fingers, they looked through every part of
the parachute rig, checking pins, rings, rip cords, the tightness of the velcro closures, and the cutaway handle. Once he finished checking his own, Serrano checked the one Doctor Reed would be using to verify it was in good working order. Seeing no issues, they hung them on the rack before leaving the room.
With that done, Serrano left the two behind while he went into the briefing room to start reviewing materials. As the team lead, he was responsible for knowing the terrain, directions and routes to take, time requirements, pre-determined and backup extraction points, and, most importantly, the enemy.
Normally, the enemy wasn’t American.
Looking into the mirror, Jonathan Reed wondered if he was making the right decision. ‘Of course you are, Jon,’ he thought, splashing water on his face, removing the thin layer of sweat he’d worked up, then dried it with a hand towel as he walked back into his room, where Lisa rested on the bed, covered only by rough, government-issued sheet.
She watched his movements as he walked to the dresser, opening a drawer and withdrawing a pair of boxer briefs, which he put on smoothly, pulling them up his muscular legs. He opened another and pulled out a pair of socks before returning to the bed, where he sat down and began pulling them on.
After dinner, they’d promised Andrew they’d meet him in the lab at ten p.m. to review things once more, then retreated to Doctor Reed’s room without attempting to come up with an excuse. Chang had nodded, walking back towards the lab without a word.
Looking over at his fellow doctor, he once again marveled at her beauty. Her long, blonde hair was down, cascading around her shoulders and onto the pillow. She returned his gaze, smiling, her blue eyes shining with a slight wetness. Her normally hard exterior had been replaced by one filled with emotion, and it only made her more beautiful.
Reaching out she rubbed his arm and shoulder with her hand, her eyes still locked onto his. She seemed on the verge of saying something, but after a few seconds, she looked away, rolled out of bed and walked to the small bathroom, her bare feet padding on the cold floor as she did.
Jonathan knew this was turning into something more than just a casual fling. He found himself drawn to her constantly, whether in the lab, the DFAC, or in the small gym they both used in the early mornings. It was getting to the point where the sight of her made his heart race, something he hadn’t felt since his youth.
Aside from her obvious beauty, he’d never met a woman as brilliant as Lisa Bowman. Talking and spending time with her was fascinating. She was well versed in (what were) current events, arts, and literature, and had traveled extensively. A true leader in her field, she spoke of complex medical procedures and cutting edge research casually, able to understand and explain the topics with ease. Her intelligence and wit constantly kept him humble, something he knew he needed.
Where this relationship (if he could call it that) would go from here would have to wait until he returned, if he did.
Emerging from the bathroom, Lisa smiled and reached for her clothes. She slid her legs into her pants, then pulled her blouse on before sitting on the bed to put on her socks. Looking at her feet as she did, she spoke softly, “This is crazy.”
“What, the outbreak? The virus itself? Or me going into a burning city to find the doctor who started the whole thing?”
Looking up at him, her eyes were filled with tears. She blinked, sending a drop down her left cheek. “No.” She sniffed, bringing a hand up to wipe away her tears in vain. “Us. I can’t be falling in love with you.”
Jonathan rushed to her and pulled her into his arms. “It’s too late for me.” His lips found hers, kissing them softly. He pulled her head back, holding it in his hands as he locked eyes with her.
“I’ve already fallen for you.”
They held each other close, needing each other’s embrace. When they pulled back from each other, their eyes met again and they said the three words they both felt in their hearts.
Sergeant Mason led Jonathan across the parking lot, into the aircraft hangar, and through a set of double doors into a short hallway with two doors on each side. Sergeant Mason stopped at the second door on the right, turned and faced Jonathan, looking up at him. “Doc, I just want you to know that I think it’s pretty badass, what you’re doing.”
Jonathan stuck out his hand. “Thanks, AJ. I’ll do my best to keep up with these guys.”
Mason took his hand, shaking it firmly. “Kick ass, doc.” Breaking the handshake, he stepped back and brought his arm up, giving a crisp salute. Without waiting for a return salute, he dropped his arm, nodded, turned on his heel and left, leaving Jonathan alone in the hallway.
Jonathan glanced at his Breitling Aviator watch. It was 11:08. He’d arrived seven minutes early, in part from the nervousness he felt, which had him outside the building at 10:55, and in part because of Sergeant Mason’s speedy driving across the quiet base.
Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the door and entered the room, closing it behind him. The SEAL team was there, along with four other people he didn’t recognize: three men and one woman, all wearing flight suits instead of the tactical camouflage the team wore. The group was waiting for him, making small talk while they did. The men wore serious looks on their faces, their voices low and calm as they spoke to one another. They were clearly focused on the mission at hand. They looked strikingly different than they had in the lab, with their heavy tactical gear on. Jonathan guessed the gear added at least twenty pounds of weight, and wondered if he’d be required to carry the same. He guessed he would be.
Serrano glanced at the clock on the wall, then back at Jonathan, nodding in approval. “Alright, Doc, you made it.”
“I’m here, Chili.”
“Okay, well, come over here to the table and we’ll get started.” As Jonathan approached the large, square table, Serrano motioned to the others who were gathered there, starting with the woman. “This is Major Richards and Captain Quinn. They’re pilot and co-pilot. The Major is the Mission Commander for the flight.”
Jonathan walked over to the group wearing flight suits, reaching out and shaking the woman’s hand first. “Major, nice to meet you,” he said, gripping her hand. He moved to the Captain and shook his hand as well, greeting him.
Serrano continued, motioning to a short, heavyset man with a thick mustache, then to a thin man with a medium build and buzz cut. “Master Sergeant Nichols here is the Flight Engineer, he’ll be assisting in the cockpit. Tech Sergeant Andrews is the Loadmaster. He’s in charge of everywhere behind the cockpit.”
Jonathan shook hands with each, greeting them.
Serrano watched the interactions, waiting for Jonathan to finish. When he did, Serrano continued. “Alright, so, the team and I have already gone over this once, but we’ll go through it again for your sake.”
Looking down at a much larger version of the satellite imagery they’d look at in the lab, he pointed at a large, rectangular green area. “This is our landing zone. It’s one of the few spots that’s still untouched by the fires. It’s about three point seven miles from the Doctor’s Office. His condo is along the way.”
Serrano looked up and met the doctor’s eyes, speaking directly to him. “We’ll be conducting a Hay-Low jump from thirty thousand feet. That’s High Altitude, Low Opening. It’s challenging, but it’ll get us there quickly and precisely. It’ll also help minimize the number of people that see us in the air, which could be good, considering what we’ve heard about the gang activity in what remains of the city. Doc, you’ll be in the middle of the formation, jumping third so we can keep an eye on you during the descent.”
Jonathan nodded, feeling butterflies in his stomach as he thought about jumping from an aircraft over a city.
Serrano continued. “During descent you’ll be traveling at over one hundred and twenty miles an hour. At thirty-five hundred feet, you’ll deploy your chute, then navigate towards this big green area, okay?” Seeing Jonathan nod, he went on. “I read in your file that you’ve done some skydiving
, is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Follow my lead, but if you have any issues, any one of us is there to help. Got it?”
Jonathan nodded. “Got it.”
“Okay. Dash, visibility?”
“Shit. We’ll have to trust our GPS coordinates when we jump, ‘cause we won’t be able to see shit until we deploy our chutes. Too much damn smoke.”
“Yeah, figured as much. Weather?”
“Also shit. Temps in the nineties due to the canopy caused by the smoke. Humidity in the high seventies.”
Serrano regarded the team as a group. “Alright, hydrate in flight. Make use of the head as you need to, but I expect to see you down at least two canteens.” He looked back at Jonathan. “That goes for you, too, Doc.”
“Will do.”
“Okay, extraction point will be the same as the insertion point, exactly twelve hours after we land. I’ll coordinate the time upon touchdown. Marines from Camp Pendleton will send a MV-22 Osprey to pick us up and get us back there. Major Richards and crew will be waiting to bring us back.”
The Major and crew nodded in agreement.
Serrano went on. “Alright. Hostiles. We know there are gangs running rampant throughout the city. We want to avoid them as much as possible. They know the territory better than we do and they’ll likely have greater numbers. Whenever possible, stealth is preferred.
“Doc, correct me if I say anything incorrect here: The infected are lethal, fast, and strong. They feel very little pain and will fight through it until their physical body has endured too much.” He looked at Jonathan, checking to make sure he hadn’t misstated anything. Receiving confirmation in the form of a nod, he continued.
“Again, we want to avoid as much as possible. Gunfire will only attract the attention of other infected, or, worse, the gangs. If conflict is inevitable, use blades, but don’t let their blood get on uncovered skin or into any exposed areas. Eyes, mouth, nose, etcetera.” He paused, making sure his team understood. Seeing no questions, he turned to Doctor Reed. “Anything I missed?”
Surviving Rage | Book 1 Page 46
