In Harm's Way

by Shawn Chesser

  Three minutes, Desantos told himself as he looked at his Luminox wristwatch. Then he turned his attention back to the encroaching Z’s. “The head of the pack is almost on top of us!” he yelled into the mic between bursts from his MP7. He changed mags and fired thirty more rounds in a matter of seconds. The expelled brass danced on the roadway, tinkling like tiny wind chimes.

  Gaines drove the buggy around so when Tice was finished he would have an unobstructed field of fire with the top mounted M249, and while Tice programmed the firing mechanism Gaines brought his suppressed MP7 into the fight. He was firing controlled three round bursts down range, dropping flesh eaters in their tracks. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” Gaines exclaimed into his mic. The staggering amount of walking dead made his head swim and the stench emanating from them instantly made his eyes water. The undead procession lurched forward, seemingly unstoppable, shoulder-to-shoulder across the eight lanes of I-25. He shook his head in disbelief when he realized how far into the distance the ambling column reached.

  Desantos looked at his watch. One minute left.

  Cade had been kneeling next to the LSV squeezing off controlled three round bursts with his MP7. He had already burned through his fifth magazine and he could feel the heat radiating from the stubby weapon’s barrel. The zombie corpses stacking up at both ends of the overpass made him wonder how in the hell they were going to get off of this death trap. I guess we’re going to see how off road capable these things really are, he thought to himself.

  “The device is armed,” Tice alerted the team over the comms as he climbed back into the LSV.

  “Thirty minutes... on my mark... three, two, one... mark,” Desantos said quickly over the comms.

  Cade stopped shooting momentarily and when he heard Desantos say “mark” he started his own countdown timer. The big numbers on the face of his Suunto started rolling backwards at an alarming rate. It was sobering knowledge that when the readout hit zero the harnessed power of the atom would be unleashed and the mushroom cloud would bloom upwards, carrying radioactive soil roiling into the beautiful Colorado sky. As an afterthought he took note of the wind’s direction. West to East... the best case scenario. Cade emptied his MP7 into the walkers, once again changed the magazine and then he clambered into the gunner’s seat.

  “Let’s go, go, go,” Desantos bellowed as he powered the buggie into a half-cookie and gunned it towards the pile of bodies.

  “Don’t forget we have the second device onboard,” Cade said to Desantos seconds before they went airborne. The LSV landed awkwardly on the other side but remained upright thanks to its racing suspension and wide wheelbase. Desantos fought to keep the speeding vehicle under control and pointed it south.

  Cade ripped into the advancing dead with the M249, raking them head high, back and forth. He expended one hundred rounds with only four short pulls of the trigger while the brass cascaded from the weapon in a shiny bronze arc. He swiveled the smoking gun around and checked their six just in time to see the other two buggies take flight and clear the carrion wall.

  The LSV unexpectedly skidded to a complete stop. “Z’s twelve o’clock,” said Desantos, concern evident in the tone of his voice.

  When Cade faced forward, the scene before him turned his stomach. The intersection was teeming with walking dead--among them a dozen pre-school-aged kids. The undead four- and five-year-olds, still tethered together for their last eternal stroll, were already crawling onto the front of the LSV frantically trying to get to Desantos. They were too close for Cade to engage them with the mounted gun so he let go of it and scrambled to bring his MP7 to bear.

  The horrific scene unfolded two feet from him in slow motion. As Desantos reached for his MP7, one of the little creatures got a hold of his gun hand while a second zombie latched its teeth onto his forearm.

  In a millisecond Cade’s world was rocked. Starting with the girl in pigtails who was chewing on his friend’s arm, he put a bullet into each preschooler’s brain.

  “They were just kids... like Sierra and Serena!” Desantos hollered as he clutched his bloody arm.

  “Mike... take off your belt and use it as a tourniquet,” Cade ordered.

  Tracers from Lopez’s M249 zipped inches from Cade’s face. The bullets chewed into the encroaching zombies, expelling hunks of putrefied flesh and dermis into the air. He walked the fire along their ranks, granting Cade enough time to trade places with Desantos.

  “Get out... you’re gunning. Time for some payback,” Cade said through clenched teeth as he climbed down.

  Desantos was able to get out of the driver’s seat on his own power, yet he required Cade’s help to climb up into the gunner’s seat.

  “Strap in Cowboy,” Cade said. He knew he had to keep talking to Desantos in order to keep the man from going into shock. He hoped that his friend was one of the infected the doctors called a slow burn because they still needed the time to set up the second device, arm the thing and get back to Springs. He got on the comms and alerted Ari about Desantos’ condition and asked for an immediate extraction. Then Cade raised Springs on the comms and broke the bad news about Desantos and the upcoming emergency extraction. Together they decided that Gaines, Tice, Lopez, and Maddox would stay behind with the LSVs until Tice was done synching and arming the second bomb. Then the team would hitch a ride back to Springs with the Rangers onboard the Chinook, leaving the buggies behind.

  ***

  Schriever AFB

  Nash moved closer to the flat panel display. She was puzzled by the LSV’s sudden stop and equally troubled, when, after a few flashes of gunfire, Desantos and Cade swapped places. Relief washed over her as all three vehicles started moving, zippered through the encroaching Z’s and continued south on I-25. One down, one to go, she thought to herself.

  ***

  I-25

  The three LSVs tore ass along the Interstate which was virtually free of walkers--for now. Once they arrived at the south overpass, Tice and Gaines hopped out and immediately went to work. Together the two men removed the bomb components from the LSV and carried them to the sidewalk, finally setting the two heavy pieces next to the guardrail. The other two vehicles were parked, one at each end of the overpass, providing security as Tice worked diligently at assembling the device.

  Cade swiveled his head and scanned the sky, looking for their ride back to the Air Force base. “Hold on Mike... the dust-off is inbound... you are going to make it...” Before Cade had finished reassuring the stricken operator, Jedi One-One was in a hover, directly overhead, blasting them with rotor wash. Suddenly from overhead, staccato bursts of hot lead belched from the Ghost’s whirring minigun, raining death from above on the living dead.

  “Jedi One-One on station,” Ari’s reassuring voice stated as the helo touched down.

  With help from Gaines and Lopez, Cade strapped Desantos into the Ghost Hawk and then found a seat for himself. He removed his tactical helmet and donned a flight helmet so he could communicate with the flight crew.

  “How fast can you get us to Schriever?” Cade asked Ari.

  “Less than eight minutes. Hold on,” Ari warned the occupants of Jedi One-One.

  The helo banked violently and accelerated faster than it had ever been pushed. Fifty feet below the black helicopter a torrent of colorful vehicles with glints of glass and chrome thrown into the mix blazed by. Cade stared at the hypnotic stream with Doctor Fuentes’ antiserum front and center on his mind, and although he had been a skeptic all along, for Desantos’ sake he hoped that he was dead wrong.

  Chapter 43

  Outbreak - Day 9

  Schriever AFB Infirmary

  Colorado Springs, Colorado

  With a hollow thud Jessica Hanson crashed the rickety hospital bed into the swinging door and with Pug’s help they muscled it over the threshold and into the infirmary.

  “Easy,” Archie Stockton implored. He had awoken during the squeaky trip across the base, dismayed to learn that he was still strapped to the bed. “Re
fresh my memory... when are these coming off?” he said, nodding towards the leather wrist restraints.

  “Sorry, you were asleep and I didn’t want to wake you,” Jessica said apologetically. “The cuffs were just a precautionary measure. Fuentes said I could remove them only if you woke up and were still normal.”

  “Keep it down. Some of us are trying to get some rest. I’ve been standing around all day and I am bushed,” Carl intoned, still face down on the massage table, unaware that the sheet covering his back was splotched technicolor red and yellow where fabric met raw flesh. “Joking... will someone please get me another book?”

  “Who are you?” a bedridden man asked. Intravenous lines snaked from his right arm and a bedpan took up the real estate on the table by his head. Without allowing Jessica or Pug time to reply, he prattled on: “My name’s William. I’m worried sick. I haven’t seen my partner since yesterday. Can one of you check around and see if Ted Keller is still alive... I hope those monsters didn’t get him. Please, Doctor?”

  The door swung shut, closing with a thud at the same instant Jessica Hanson’s eyes rolled into the back of her head.

  William’s face registered shock as he watched the doctor’s face track straight for the collapsible side rail on the wheeled bed as her limp body collapsed forward, and with a resounding crack hit square on, a fan of blood spraying his white sheets. Jessica Hanson came to rest face down on the floor. Two small entry wounds behind her ear wept blood, feeding the crimson puddle rapidly forming around her head.

  One, two, look at the goo, the voice in Pug’s head sang with a sad cadence.

  Archie Stockton watched the smoking barrel hovering a foot above his head slowly track downward and come to rest on his forehead.

  “Hey Awwrchie!” Pug teased the helpless man in his best Edith Bunker voice. “Whoever wants to live raise your hand?”

  Archie Stockton’s big biceps bulged as he gamely fought to free his arms from the restraints. The gunmetal brushed warm on his skin. It was the last sensation he would experience before death embraced him once again. The pistol coughed twice. Three, four, alive no more.

  Carl played dead and watched the rivulets of red course across the floor, like a river’s tributaries, inches in front of his downcast face.

  “Don’t do it!” William begged, stick thin arms reaching for the sky.

  Do it. Do it. Do it. The voice was getting stronger, more forceful. Pug leveled the silenced .22 at the groveling man and pulled the trigger twice. The small subsonic bullets left pencil eraser-sized stars an inch apart on William’s forehead. His body went limp and his left arm crashed down, catapulting the stainless steel bedpan across the room where it landed with a resonant clatter.

  Five, six, hit the bricks.

  Pug marched across the floor and yanked the hanging cotton room divider. It slinked open, running on the rails inset into the ceiling. The sound reminded Pug of a Slinky walking down a flight of stairs. He clinched his fist angrily. I could never get one of those things to work, he thought to himself. Then he saw the woman, wild eyed, her face bruised and battered. She was laid up in the last hospital bed. “And who might we have here?” he asked in a sing song voice. Glancing at the blue Air Force uniform hanging near the bed, Pug put two and two together. “Ahh, you’re in the Air Force?”

  The woman shakily nodded an affirmative.

  “Thanks for your service,” he said in an insincere monotone voice before the .22 chugged twice, sending two bullets into her left eye. Seven, eight, I feel great, the voice sang. “Now about that book you requested, my incapacitated friend. How about To Kill a Mockingbird?” Pug pressed the silencer to the back of Carl’s head and squeezed the trigger two times in quick succession. Nine, ten, you’re dead my friend.

  The clear liquid poured from the bottle with throaty glugs as Pug skipped around the room, wetting every surface. A Slinky, a Slinky such a wonderful toy... He paused and stole one last look at his handy work, the five dead bodies in various death poses causing a pleasant chill to trace up his leg, and then he tossed the lit book of matches over his shoulder. The resulting whoosh said mission accomplished in his mind.

  ***

  Schriever AFB Parade Grounds

  “Raven, sweetie... I have a real bad tummy ache. I’m going over there to find a bathroom,” Brook said, pointing to the Base Affairs building. And then holding her stomach she went on: “You run ahead and see if Carl needs anything.”

  “OK Mom,” Raven said enthusiastically, fully grateful for the newfound responsibility and trust she had earned the last few days.

  Brook made a mad dash for the toilet, wanting this to be just a bout of diarrhea. The pain felt entirely different--almost like really bad menstrual cramping. Then her sixth sense started to tingle and she began fearing the worst.

  Chapter 44

  Outbreak - Day 9

  Schriever Air force Base

  Here I come to save the day. The voices repeated the mantra over and over as he rushed back to the research tent where he had met the sweet Doctor Hanson and the big lug Archie Stockton.

  By the time he reached the puffed out tent, the fire engine’s shrill sirens echoed among the prefab buildings. He stopped, thoroughly winded, and put his hands on his knees. He hadn’t run this much since he escaped Las Vegas ten days ago. And before that probably some training hoops he had had to jump through at his last job in the old world. That one was fun, he thought, shooting people and getting paid for it. Those two Blackwater rogues had to go and ruin it for all of us.

  He entered the breathing building quietly, silenced pistol tucked away in his waistband. Once inside, ventilation fans drowned out the sounds of the emergency vehicles responding to the conflagration at the infirmary.

  The Alpha writhed on the gurney in the ante room, hungrily eyeing the piece of meat that had just walked through the door.

  “I’ll deal with you in a minute,” Pug promised the squirming zombie who hissed back as if it understood every word.

  Doctor Fuentes stood in front of a bank of computers watching multiple readouts on three different monitors. On the table next to him a centrifuge whirred rhythmically, honey-colored vials diffusing the stark sterile light.

  “Ahem,” Pug cleared his throat rather dramatically.

  Fuentes slowly turned at the waist with a half-eaten Oreo cookie clenched between his teeth. “Cam I helf you,” came out along with a fine spray of chocolate crumbs.

  Pug’s eyebrows jumped an inch. “Tell me about the cure...”

  Chapter 45

  Outbreak – Day 9

  Schriever Air force Base

  Ari finessed the screaming Ghost Hawk fifty feet off of the deck pushing two hundred and fifty-five knots. It had only been six minutes since Desantos’ hasty exfil and now they were less than a minute out from Schriever. Ari radioed ahead that they had a WIA incoming, told them it was General Desantos and that they would be delivering him directly to the medical hangar where the quarantine area and research tent were housed.

  Cade was staring, still transfixed on the ribbon of I-25 when the column of desert tan Bradleys and Hummers flashed by briefly under the port side.

  “Ari... any idea what unit we just overflew?” Cade queried.

  “19th Special Forces… man, have they been through the wringer... came through the Rockies from Utah earlier today.”

  “Then those are Major Beeson’s boys down there... solid commander. He taught me how to shoot,” Cade replied.

  Desantos opened his eyes and said, “I thought I taught you how to shoot, Wyatt.”

  “Cowboy, you taught me everything I know... relax, we’re almost home,” Cade said as he tightened the belt around the infected arm. He noticed that not only was Desantos’ forearm cold from the tourniquet site on down to his fingertips, but the rest of his extremities were cooling as well. Not good, he thought to himself worriedly.

  “I’m cold... and hot at the same time,” Desantos said making eye contact with Cade. �
��You must kill me before I turn.”

  “Roger that, Cowboy, you have my word,” Cade said, feeling the emotions he had sequestered earlier punching holes in his resolve. “Don’t worry... I’m not going to let the man on the pale horse take you.”

  Desantos closed his eyes and his head lolled back and forth as Ari reared the chopper’s nose up and side slipped her around the tall hangar, almost belly landing the bird before the wheels had fully extended.

  ***

  50th Space Wing Command

  Freda Nash had watched the entire Bin Laden raid unfold in real time, and even when the helo went down she wasn’t half as worried as she was now. At the time she had had no idea who was aboard the Stealth Hawk that day in May, but she knew that Desantos was in the Ghost Hawk right now, life hanging by a thread. The Keyhole Satellite tracking Jedi One-One steadily beamed the image to the flat panel in front of her.

  Nash later learned that Mike Desantos was in fact onboard the Stealth Hawk along with SEAL Team Six when it went down and had survived the Bin Laden raid in Abbottabad, Pakistan. But she harbored a strong suspicion that her friend was not going to live to see another sunset.

  Nash watched the ongoing mission on the second flat panel. The CH-47 pilot held the bird in a pinnacle hover above the overpass with the rear ramp yawning open, then the helo’s back wheels gently touching the guard rail. It was one of the most difficult maneuvers to perform in the big dual rotor helo and the pilot was making it look easy.

  She couldn’t be sure but it appeared that the second nuclear device was wedged between the vehicles and the operators were trying to reach the hovering chopper on foot.