by Dirk Patton
“Show me on the map,” she said, stepping over to a computer terminal and clicking a mouse. I followed her line of sight and watched one of the flat panel displays show an image that looked at first like Google Earth. As she clicked and scrolled it became obvious we were looking at real time satellite imagery as you never see clouds when using Google. A couple more clicks and a street map was superimposed over the satellite image and she motioned for me to take control of the mouse.
“It’s just like Google,” she said. “Use the mouse to scroll around, double left click to zoom in, double right to zoom out.”
Using the mouse I navigated around the screen, zoomed in a few times then back out when I didn’t recognize the area. The third time I zoomed I was pretty certain I had the right location. As the screen refreshed I recognized the neighborhood with just the one street that fed in and out. Clicking to zoom further in I didn’t realize at first what I was looking at, then the screen did a final refresh into sharp HD clarity and I muttered a curse. Several blocks of the neighborhood were packed with infected standing shoulder to shoulder, all of them pushing forward towards a small two-story house.
Chapter 4
“That’s got to be them,” I said, eyes on the screen showing a throng of infected that had to number several thousand.
Major Masuka took control of the computer back from me, clicking and typing faster than I could even think about. After a few moments of furious work she hit the enter key and looked back up at the screen, arms crossed across her chest. At first nothing happened, then the screen blinked and the same shot of the neighborhood was displayed only this time there were no infected in the shot. A date and time stamp in the upper right corner indicated this was 48 hours ago. The screen blinked again, and the indicator changed to reflect 47 hours ago. This continued to happen, the images progressing forward an hour at a time until we reached 31 hours ago. In that image a few dozen infected surrounded the house, frozen in the image with arms raised as they pounded on the siding, doors and windows. Another blink. 30 hours ago. There were now hundreds of infected and more could be seen in the surrounding streets and yards as they streamed towards the house. Blink, 29 hours. Thousands and still growing.
Masuka paused the replay with a click and entered some more commands, hitting the enter key with a flourish. The time stamp rolled back to 32 hours, blinked and started progressing forward in one minute increments. At the 31 hour and 38 minute mark a lone figure was visible moving towards the house and Masuka reached forward and hit a button that changed the replay to normal speed, paused it, rolled it back two minutes, zoomed in a little and and let it roll. Soon the figure appeared in the image about a block away from the house. I recognized Kevin, one of the three siblings I had met. He was running and kept looking over his shoulder. Rounding a house he nearly ran into the arms of an infected male, stumbled backwards, pulled out a pistol and shot it. I sighed. The sound of the gun shot. That had brought every infected in a large radius down on their heads.
Kevin kept running and now other figures were entering the frame of the shot. Some of them were shambling males, but there were also females. The females sprinted after Kevin. He was not in good shape and his run looked like a slow jog compared to the speed of the females. Two of them were only yards behind when he stumbled on the lawn of his house, going to his knees only feet from safety. He was immediately tackled from behind by both females. The front door of the house opened and Gwen ran out onto the lawn, pistol held at arm’s length, but it didn’t look like she fired. Probably afraid of hitting Kevin. As she watched the females ripped into Kevin, his bloody death displayed in high definition on the flat panel. Gwen slowly lowered the pistol and seemed to be rooted in place until more females appeared. She turned and ran back into the house, slamming the door behind her moments before infected started pounding on it.
“Can you go to real time?” I asked. Masuka hit a few keys and the image blinked before sharpening back to clarity. The house was absolutely mobbed with infected trying to force their way in.
“They’re still alive in there,” I said, eyes glued to the screen. “How soon can you get a rescue bird in the air?”
Masuka puffed out her cheeks then let the air out slowly, “Two days before I have anyone available. Plenty of birds available, but we’re low on personnel and every pilot I have is supporting the build up at the state border to defend against the herd that’s moving towards us.” She looked up at me defiantly, expecting an argument.
I stared at her for a long moment then turned my eyes back to the scene on the display. “What if I can get my own pilot and door gunner?” I asked. “Will you let me have a helicopter that can make the trip?”
“One pilot? No co-pilot? Only one crewman? That’s against every policy the Air Force has.” She answered, facing me with her arms crossed again.
“What’s the Air Force policy on leaving two teenage girls to be torn apart by infected?” I asked in a low voice, leaning towards her. Part of my strategy was to not make a scene and put her on the defensive in front of her staff, but I also know I can be fairly intimidating when I want to be and with 15 inches of height and probably 130 pounds on her I hoped my physical presence would help change her mind.
Masuka stared right back at me, head turned up to meet my eyes like a child looking up at her parent, and she never blinked. We stared at each other like that for a bit before she uncrossed her arms and broke eye contact.
“Tell me what you have in mind,” she said.
“The pilot that flew me in last night, Lieutenant Anderson, and the Senior Airman that was part of his air crew. They can’t be assigned to anything yet. They fly, I get the kids out of the house and we bring them back here to safety.” I straightened back up, giving her more space and shut my mouth. If she said no I’d find Anderson and steal a helicopter if I had to.
She looked back at the display, the mass of infected bodies choking the streets and lawns around the house and shook her head. “How do you think you’re going to get them out of that?” She gestured at the satellite feed.
Got her! She was in.
“That’s a two story house. I fast rope down to the roof, punch through a window and winch the kids back up. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.”
Shaking her head and making a decision she called one of her staff over, a young, gangly kid wearing an Airman’s stripe on a uniform that looked almost as new as mine. He dashed across the room and came to attention in front of us. Masuka looked up at me and gestured to the kid, “Tell him who you need and he’ll go get them.”
“Lieutenant Anderson, he’s probably in the BOQ – Bachelor Officer Quarters – and Senior Airman Mayo. Don’t know where Mayo is, but the LT will know.”
The kid stood there as if waiting for something else until Masuka barked at him to get his ass in gear. He turned and ran for the door and Masuka grabbed another staffer and started issuing orders to get a Pave Hawk fueled and on the flight line, ready to go, then turned her attention to the line of people that had been waiting for her. I left her to it and went down the stairs and back outside to where the Security Forces Airman was waiting with Dog. They were outside the Humvee and Dog had convinced him to throw a stick he’d somehow found. I told him to take Dog back to the firing range and deliver him to Rachel and let her know that I was taking a short flight and would be back in plenty of time for our flight to Arizona. I knew Rachel would be pissed at me, but I didn’t really see that she could be anything more than a passenger on this trip and she needed the time on the range. The Airman sped off and I lit a cigarette, enjoying the warm afternoon sun. Behind me on the flight line a jet engine throttled up and screamed like a banshee. The smell of jet fuel was heavy in the air. I already missed Rachel and Dog.
Two cigarettes later the gangly Airman wheeled into the parking lot in an Air Force blue pickup truck. Anderson sat in the front passenger seat and Mayo was sprawled out in the back seat. I walked over to greet them as the driver pulled into a parking
space and shut off the engine. When they stepped out of the truck and spotted the rank on my uniform both of them looked at me with quizzical expressions on their faces.
“Recall by order of the Commander In Chief,” I explained, shrugging my shoulders and grinning.
Anderson and Mayo came to attention but I waved them off, forestalling the salutes that I knew were coming. Motioning for them to follow I led the way into flight operations, explaining what was going on as we walked. Reaching the large operations room I introduced Anderson to Major Masuka and faded into the background while they talked. Masuka handed a small flash drive to Anderson and waved me over.
“Major,” she said. “I think you’re a damn fool for going out there. Pave Hawks need a crew of at least four, preferably six, but I admire you for not just walking away from these kids. But you do need to know. If you run into trouble I don’t have anyone available to come get you. I’ve told the Lieutenant and Senior Airman that this is voluntary. I won’t order them to do this so severely undermanned. You’ll be glad to know they’ve both volunteered. Good luck to you, and I hope I see you in a few hours.” She stuck her hand out and I took it, thanking her. The same Airman that had retrieved Anderson and Mayo was tasked with getting us to the Pave Hawk that was waiting on the flight line and we followed him out of the building without any further discussion.
Chapter 5
The Pave Hawk was waiting for us on the tarmac, two ground crewmen just finishing fueling the external tanks. I didn’t know the operational radius of a Pave Hawk, but I was glad to see we would have extra fuel for the flight. Anderson jumped out of the pickup as soon it came to a stop and headed for the helicopter. He was met by a Tech Sergeant who emerged from a hangar when we pulled up and the two immediately started walking around the aircraft, checking whatever it is pilots check before takeoff. Mayo walked over and climbed in the open side door and started checking over the mounted minigun. I smiled when I saw the weapon. Six rotating barrels and electrically operated it could fire up to 6,000 rounds per minute and would absolutely pulverize anything short of heavy armor. A friend of mine had called it ‘the Finger of God’ because whatever it reached out and touched just ceased to exist.
I tossed my pack in the helicopter as Anderson climbed into the pilot’s seat and hit the starters for the engines. Climbing aboard I connected to a safety tether that would keep me from falling out of the open door. The engines whined and quickly built to a deafening roar and I scrambled to get a headset on to protect my ears. I watched as Anderson scanned all of the instruments, and apparently satisfied he plugged the flash drive Masuka had given him into a USB port on the navigation console. It took the system a moment to process the data then a screen flashed to life displaying our flight path to the target – rescue location in this case.
Anderson left the radio linked to the intercom and we could hear him contact flight control, requesting clearance. They held us on the ground for a few minutes then released us and Anderson hit the throttle and pulled on the collective causing the Pave Hawk to leap into the air. He didn’t bother to stabilize into a hover, rather immediately banked the big helicopter and put us on a heading to the southeast. On the navigation display a blinking green symbol in the shape of an ‘X’ started following the thin green line that represented our flight path.
I busied myself with checking my weapons and making sure all the spare magazines distributed across my tactical vest were fully loaded. Taking the headset off long enough to insert the earpiece for the secure field radio I tested it with Anderson, then put the headset back on over it. Next I busied myself with checking the rope I would use to get onto the roof of the house. Fast roping out of a hovering helicopter is not one of my favorite things to do as I’m afraid of heights, but you do what you have to do. The rope is a heavy piece of braided nylon, just under two inches thick and is bolted to the floor of the helicopter.
Everything as ready as it could be I sat back and started chatting with Anderson and Mayo over the intercom as we flew. They wanted to know where Rachel was and I filled them in on the fast approaching flight to Arizona and where Rachel was at the moment. They both agreed with me that she was going to be pissed that I’d run off without her. We talked about my recall to the Army and my newly acquired rank, then fell quiet as we all got lost in our own thoughts.
It wasn’t a long flight and soon we were over the edge of the suburbs to the north of Atlanta. Out the right side of the aircraft I could see the lake where we’d all met and shook my head at the thought that it seemed like weeks ago, not just a couple of days. Ahead of us smoke still rose from the ashes that had been downtown Atlanta. Beneath us the trees thinned as we flew over more established residential areas. I kept my eyes open for other survivors but all I saw moving were large groups of infected, all heading in a generally northern direction.
“Five minutes,” Anderson’s voice came over the intercom, giving me a heads up that we were almost to the target. “We’ve got enough fuel for 15 minutes on target, 20 if I go into the emergency reserves then we either go or we’re walking part of the way back.”
“Understood,” I replied, already shifting mental gears as I prepared for the assault. I triple checked the status and security of my weapons and spare magazines then slipped on a pair of gloves with heavy, leather palms that would protect my hands as I slid down the rope. The rope was coiled neatly on the floor of the helicopter and was ready to be deployed. Mayo and I had already checked the operation of the winch that would be used to get us back up into the helicopter when I had Gwen and Stacy.
“Fuck me, but look at that!” Mayo’s voice over the intercom pulled my attention to the open door. Looking out I was shocked at the sheer number of infected that had crammed themselves into the neighborhood surrounding the house. Even though I’d seen it on the satellite image it was still a staggering site in person. Three to four blocks in every direction the ground was not visible due to the tightly jammed mass of bodies.
As we zeroed in on the house Anderson cut our speed and put the helicopter into a tight orbit so we could get a good view. The sun was setting and while it wasn’t still full daylight there was plenty of light to see the infected. It seemed as if every face in the crowd of thousands was turned upwards and for a moment the infected pressed against the house stopped pounding and clawing on the walls as they looked up at the noisy helicopter.
“You sure you want to do this, Major?” Anderson asked.
“No choice,” I replied. “Look at that shit. We’re those kid’s last chance.”
Anderson didn’t answer, probably didn’t know what to say, and a moment later he pulled out of the orbit and brought the big Pave Hawk into a hover over the roof of our target. The house was a small two story with an attic on top of the second floor. There weren’t any balconies or decks off the upper floors, but the infected had piled on top of each other until their hands were banging on the second story windows. The windows appeared to have been boarded up from the inside and with the proximity of the infected I realized that my idea to go in an upper story window wasn’t going to work. Oh well, there are other ways to gain entry. I reached into the pack I would be leaving behind in the helicopter and grabbed a zippered nylon bag that I clipped to my vest.
“Ready,” Anderson said when he was comfortable the helicopter was in a stable hover.
I kicked the rope out of the door and it uncoiled smoothly, hitting the roof of the house and the final 25 feet slithering across the shingles and falling into the mass of enraged infected. Mayo called out heights and adjustments to Anderson and the helicopter gained a few feet of altitude and the rope pulled out of the throng, two females hanging on to the end. I leaned out the open door and picked each of them off with my rifle, their bodies crashing down into the waiting arms of the herd.
“Switching to comms,” I said, taking off the headset. Unclipping from the safety tether that had kept me in the helicopter I stepped out the door and onto a small peg, wrapped my hands arou
nd the rope, pinched with my feet and dropped away from the aircraft. Fast roping, while it may look like rappelling is actually nothing like it. You are not using a descender to control your speed, rather you slide down the rope just like a fireman going down the pole in a fire station. Even with the heavy leather palmed gloves my hands heated up, but not so much that I couldn’t grip the rope and maintain a reasonable rate of descent. Very quickly my boots hit the roof and I stepped away from the rope, holding it in one hand to keep control so it didn’t whip around and either knock me off the roof or tangle in my legs and drag me with it when the helicopter pulled away. Mayo, leaning out of the door and staring down at me gave me a thumbs up when I was clear of the rope and Anderson moved the Pave Hawk up and away from the house to go back into an orbit to wait for me.
The moans and screams of the infected were loud in my ears once the noise of the helicopter moved away. Below me at the rear wall of the house they were continuing to pile on top of each other and hands were just a couple of feet from the lip of the roof, well above the second floor windows. I checked the other three sides, moving carefully as a stumble and fall off the roof would be fatal, and found similar results everywhere I looked. I moved back to the middle of the roof and called Mayo on the secure comm unit.
“Mayo, I’m about to have company on the roof. Can you do something about these uninvited guests?”
“Fuckin’ A, Major. Stand by.”
The Pave Hawk stopped orbiting and settled into a stable hover 200 feet in the air. I could see Mayo, tethered in behind the door mounted minigun, calling adjustments to Anderson over the intercom. When the aircraft was where he wanted it Mayo unleashed hell. A minigun doesn’t sound like a gun. It sounds like a very loud and very angry swarm of bad ass bees. As I watched, a nearly solid stream of lead tore into the infected piling up against the house and the bodies just disintegrated, all the blood and other fluids in them forming pinkish-red clouds that quickly settled.
