by John O'Brien
This isn’t what she had been expecting in the least. She figured they’d be storming buildings and having to fight their way through hordes of them in order to clear the buildings. The effectiveness of the gunship strategy is quite apparent, with most of the infected having been able to extricate themselves from the buildings.
Maybe the houses were different, she thinks, postulating that many fell ill before they turned and would most likely have been in their homes.
It’s not that she is down about the lack of infected. Just the opposite. It just wasn’t what she had imagined. In the near and far distance, smoke plumes rise from the shelled cities and residential districts. A smoky pall hangs in the air, turning everything to varying shades of brown.
“Well, what now?” a squad member asks.
Kelli looks inside at all of the equipment with their steady and blinking lights. In a center console, a radar sweeps in a circle, illuminating several sharp blips in its passage.
“We go down,” Kelli states, imitating a game she and several of her squad periodically play.
“Can we at least take the elevator?”
“I suppose so, but we’ll have to take turns. And, if I get stuck, I’m going to beat your ass,” Kelli answers.
Kelli pauses at the top of the carpeted stairs, listening for any indication that there are infected behind any of the closed doors that line the long hallway. This is their last building. She thinks on how different the second story is as compared to ground floor. There, several of the office doors had been bashed in, the wooden doors nearly cracked in half with splinters lying on the carpet. One office in particular had been a gruesome scene, the wall splattered with dried blood so thick at one point that it had streamed down the painted surface. The office furniture had been overturned and papers were strewn everywhere. Obviously, a violent struggle had taken place, the first real sign connecting her to the stories she had heard.
Hearing only the heavy breathing of the Marines behind her, she steps into the hall, waving her squad forward. Focusing her eyes and weapon in front of her, she’s startled by a shuffle and cry behind. She quickly turns in time to see one of her squad falling. He reaches out, attempting to grab the railing, but it’s to no avail. In a tangle, he slams into the legs of the squad member in front, sliding to the side and hitting the steps with a heavy thump.
Kelli gasps as the man rises, his mask skewed down and to the far side of his face. He quickly rights himself, pulls his mask back over his face, and stares at Kelli with wide eyes.
There’s no way his mask should have slipped like that. He must have loosened the straps, Kelli thinks, other thoughts racing through her mind.
“Oh fuck,” the squad member almost breathes.
The rest of the squad in near proximity all stare at him, not knowing what to do. The mask was off for only moments, but they know the protocols that were hammered into them. The mask was off and he was exposed, if for only a brief moment.
Maybe he didn’t take a breath, many think, Kelli included.
It only takes one, the single thought sounds out louder than the others.
“Outside,” she states.
“I didn’t take a breath. I promise.”
“Outside.”
“Ah, fuck.”
Kelli assigns the final clearing and accompanies the Marine outside with two others. That was another drilled into her head: anyone becoming contaminated wasn’t to be handled alone. Once outside, she holds her hand out.
“Seriously? I didn’t take a breath and it was only for a second. I’m fine.”
Kelli continues holding out her hand.
“Goddamit!” the Marine states, handing over his carbine.
“Look, you know as well as I do what the protocols are. Are you seriously wanting for me to look past this and then carry the infection to the whole ship and possibly the fleet? Come on, you’re better than that. I understand it was only for a brief moment, but there’s still a chance, right?”
“So, what are you going to do? Shoot me in cold blood…right here?”
“No,” Kelli responds, then radios her company commander and identifies herself. “Sir, could you come to our location. We have a situation.”
“What is it, Sergeant?”
“I’d rather tell you in person, sir.”
“On my way.”
Kelli isn’t sure what the reaction might be, but doesn’t want to tell the story over the air lest it force someone’s hand.
“Well, shit,” the commander says upon arriving and hearing the story. Turning to the soldier, “Son, did you loosen your mask? How did it come to fall off like that?”
The Marine remains silent, the guilt on his face readily apparent.
“Stay here,” the captain states and walks a short distance to communicate with battalion.
The wait is lengthy, her squad retiring from the building, at which point Kelli ordered them to the ramp where they’re to wait. A few pat the Marine on the arm, offering encouragement. The captain returns.
“Battalion went all of the way to the top on this one and it’s been decided to transfer him to a quarantine station set up off base. You’re lucky, son, but if you make it through this and ever do something stupid again, you’ll need a proctologist to remove my boot from your ass. Is that understood?”
The Marine nods and is taken away to the establishment of the quarantine. Kelli rejoins her squad and relates what happened.
“Don’t think that quarantine is an option if you fuck up. That was the one screw up this squad is allowed. If anyone else does something that stupid, I’ll shoot you on the spot. Do you fucking understand?”
With relief in their eyes, the squad nods. Ospreys arrive, their rotors going vertical as they settle onto the ramp.
At least we’re getting a marginally comfortable ride back, Kelli thinks, shuffling to the transports.
The naval air station and surrounding residential areas were cleared by late afternoon, the Marines returning to the gray walls of their ships. Kelli’s soldier wasn’t the only one who was pulled out for quarantine; several others had been ambiguously exposed in one manner or another. The houses, dorms, and quarters had proved more difficult for the other companies than Kelli’s assignment, for six Marines had been lost to sudden attacks from the infected. It turns out there were more adequate water sources for those trapped in the houses.
For the next forty-eight hours, gunships patrol the island without a single sighting. The strike fighters drop CBU-78 Gator trip mine munitions across the neck south of the airfield. On the forty-ninth hour, the Marines and specialists return to set up shop. An hour later, the first jets touch down, their tires chirping as they come into contact with the runway. The island is theirs—the remaining survivors of humankind have their first foothold on the western shores, as tenuous as it may be.
# # #
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty One
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