by W. J. Lundy
The men were split into squads and waited in long lines; some at ladders to board the small boats while others were organized and led away to the stern to board helicopters. Jacob looked out over the water at the gathered freighters and ferries. Ships of all shapes and sizes stretched to the horizon while small leisure boats speckled the water, bobbing amongst the larger freighters and transport ships.
Standing at the center of the deck now, Jacob was near the middle of a stack of eleven men who were members of his recently formed squad. He looked around in the chaos; the only familiar part of his assignment was Murphy taking the position of squad leader at the front. Helicopters orbited the flotilla, dropping in to pick up teams, then rejoining the holding pattern above. Jacob stared up at a circling twin rotor helicopter, curious about its destination.
“You don’t want to be on them,” a soldier in line ahead of Jacob said, noticing his stare. The man was wearing sergeant’s stripes and the name Cass was written on the front of his helmet.
Jacob nodded acknowledging the man. “Why’s that?”
“Air assault. They are dropping inland off the beach, right on top of the bastards up near Michigan Avenue; a long ways from where we’re going. They’ll be elbow deep in the shit before we even hit the beach. Higher ups are hoping to draw the things off of Grant Park and the lakefront so we can safely get ashore,” the sergeant said. As he spoke, the man’s eyes followed a helicopter making an approach to the rear of the freighter where a tight pack of soldiers were waiting.
“That’s insane!” Jacob muttered. “They’ll be slaughtered!”
“Them’s the breaks,” the sergeant said grimly, shaking his head before looking away.
“What about us?” Jacob asked.
“Amphibious landing! We’re on the boat teams… going right through the breakwater then slamming into the wall. Hauling ass and digging in near the highway—traditional blocking action against an atypical force. It’s good though; we’ll have wide fields of fire and good cover over the highway… but all that depends on the air assault boys pulling them off the waterfront.”
“This is good?” Jacob asked.
Jacob was nudged from behind as the line moved ahead and snaked around a container. His squad of eleven moved into an open staging area just shy of the stairs leading to the waterline. Murphy was there going over men’s equipment and dividing the group into two halves. Murphy then moved against a container and pointed at a sheet of plywood with a rough map sketched on it.
The map, which had four horizontal lines running across it, was oriented so that the lake was at the bottom; a straight line running along the bottom of the board represented the lakeshore. Above the shoreline was another line designated as the trail. A parallel line marked as the highway was situated over the trail. A shaded area labeled park was sketched in between the highway and a final line near the top of the board. This line was denoted as Michigan Avenue and was marked with an X, along with the words Air Assault. At the far left side of the board, at the end of the shoreline, was a box marked Castle.
“Listen up,” Murphy said, pointing at the board. “We will be hitting the shoreline here, just to the right of the museum complex. When you hit the sea wall, move in to the trail and wait for instructions. When everyone is on line, we will push forward and dig in on the highway that we’ll find to our front.
“The air assault force will be hundreds of meters inland; the Castle will be far down the shoreline to our left. Our objective is to take the beach, drawing the black-eyes to us. We need to hold them as long as possible before pulling back south to the Castle. We have to create a pocket to allow for extraction of the survivors.” Murphy turned away to push the soldiers ahead as more in the line tried to take the spot by the board.
Jacob was sent to the right and grouped as A-team. The soldier, Sergeant Cass, was placed in charge of Jacob’s team. He moved them out of the line and formed them into a small group.
Murphy handed out a roll of what looked like duct tape to Jacob’s team leader and said, “Get this on everyone’s back.”
“What’s it for?” Jacob asked as the soldier spun Jacob around and twisted strips of tape into his gear.
“Reflective tape. So the guys in the sky don’t kill us.”
“Enough chitchat; finish up with the tape and get on line by the ladder,” Murphy said, waving the men back into two lines. “We have two small boats picking us up. A-team, I’ll be traveling with you.”
A sailor pulled back a gate leading through the rail and onto a rusted stair platform. Jacob looked out over the water; the stairs ran down to the surface where another small platform was attached just above the waves of the lake. Two small cabin cruisers were tied on, swaying and rising with the swells of the freighter. Men dressed in dark navy-blue camouflage and orange life vests were waiting at the bottom.
“I hope you all don’t get seasick,” the sailor said as he ushered the men onto the stairs.
Jacob gripped the rail, not wanting to let go as fear settled in. He looked back at the man behind him and saw the same look.
“You okay?” Cass asked him.
Jacob took a deep breath and thought of his family trapped on shore. He looked up at the sky and stepped through the gate onto the stairs. “I’m fine.”
He grabbed the stair rail and took the steps one at a time, steadying himself against the swaying of the freighter. Murphy was leaning against the ship, talking to them as they descended. Slapping backs and checking gear, he waited for the entire group to reach the bottom before he fell in with them on the platform.
Murphy stepped to the edge of the small landing deck, facing his squad. “There were close to three million people in the city before all of this. We don’t know how many made it out, how many are dead, or how many are fucking lizard people now. We messed up early; we didn’t know what we were fighting and we went soft on them.
“Not this time! No riot shields, no flex cuffs, no arrests, no rules of engagement. If they run at us, shoot them; if they are on the beach, shoot them. If they have solid-black eyes, shoot them. We need to attract every damn lizard person in the city to our position. It’s the only way we get our people back. The only way we get our families evacuated from the Castle. We have to get the landing zones clear so the birds can get in and back out.
“Your team leaders have been picked for a reason; follow them. Now let’s get out there and kick some reptile ass!” Murphy shouted, signaling the sailors to begin the boarding of the small boats.
Jacob followed Cass to the right. “Mount up,” Cass said.
A sailor pulled the small boat in tight while another grabbed Jacob’s arm and helped him onboard. “Don’t fall in,” the sailor warned. “With all that armor, your ass will sink to the bottom like a brick.”
Jacob nodded and nearly tumbled aboard the small Bayliner speedboat. Painted white with red pinstripes, it was no assault craft; the bow was covered with a red liner and had a glass windshield and two captain’s chairs in the front. Murphy quickly moved aboard and dropped into the seat on the left, while the rest of the team was ushered and crammed into a U-shaped bench in the back. The passengers’ knees and shoulders pressed together in the tight space.
Sitting heavy in the water, the boat was filled and pushed off. The sailor moved away from the side, plopped into the driver’s seat, and started the engine. It gurgled to life as the smell of gas and oil mixed with the lake water. Jacob could feel the vibrations under his seat as the sailor moved the motor to reverse. The small boat rose up on a lake swell then drifted back while being pulled away by the engine. The wheel was cut, and they moved alongside the tall freighter. Families looked down at them from the top rail; some waved but most just stared with shocked and scared faces. The sailor slowly opened the throttle, allowing the bow to lift, and they broke away from the freighter on a course to open water.
Black smoke billowed on the horizon over the otherwise clear sky. Small specks ahead quickly transformed into an arma
da of various boats as they approached. Police boats, Coast Guard patrol boats, cabin cruisers, and speedboats of all make and model were floating together in a packed cluster.
Murphy spun around in his chair and looked at his watch. “Weapons on safe, locked, cocked, and ready to rock; it won’t be long now.”
Jacob followed Cass’s lead as he locked back the bolt on his M4 and fished a magazine from his vest, slapping it home and letting the bolt slam forward.
Murphy grinned watching Jacob. “Might make a soldier out of you yet.”
He looked back up at Murphy as boats throughout the formation began beeping and blowing their horns. The sailor upped the throttle of the boat and fell into line with several others. The mass broke from a cluster into a deep formation of several rows.
“Listen up. When you get to the wall, get the hell off this boat, stick with your team leader, listen to his instructions, and do what he says; we fight as a team!” Murphy yelled over the wind and roar of the engines. “Nobody gets left behind. Nobody gets taken! Make damn sure neither you nor your battle buddies are taken alive! Got it?”
“Hooah!” the soldiers replied. Jacob nodded, feeling overwhelmed.
With a feeling of impending doom in his gut, Jacob’s legs began to shake and the rifle rattled in his grip. Cold water splashed over the bow, soaking his uniform top. A soldier across from Jacob held a silver cross to his lips, his eyes closed in prayer. With a grin on his face and caressing the grip of his rifle with his gloved hand, the state trooper appeared excited. The air roared as dozens of attack helicopters flew low over the water heading inland. Men in the boats pumped their fists at the gunships. Then another formation of larger helicopters full of air assault troops garnered the same response as they sped by overhead.
The coastline materialized out of the smoky mist. A sortie of fighter aircraft flew parallel to the beach dropping bombs, and a wall of flames erupted within Grant Park. Attack helicopters, looking like swarms of bees from the distance, flew in maintaining a high altitude before stopping to hover just offshore. Volleys of rockets and explosive projectiles were let loose and churned up the ground in the direction of Michigan Avenue, softening the landing zones. The gunships peeled off and orbited as the Black Hawks, Chinooks, and Sea Knights approached the beach from the west before disappearing into the black smoke and fire over the park.
With his thoughts occupied on watching the air assault, Jacob lost track of his own situation. The boat slammed hard in the water, snatching Jacob’s attention back to the beach. He glimpsed the passing through the breakwater and the sea wall quickly approaching. Boats bunched together as they breached the breakwater entrance then spread out to race toward shore, already under fire. The pilot of Jacob’s boat cut the wheel hard to line up with a hole between the other boats; he gunned the engine and shot for a section of seawall just in front of Queen’s Landing and a large flat concrete dock.
Rounds exploded in the water. Men were on the boardwalk and firing at them. “Shit, the air assault didn’t work!” someone yelled.
“It’s working; we can handle the stragglers. Get ready!” Murphy yelled back.
The boat snaked left and right, bouncing over wakes of the other crafts as rounds smacked the windscreen. Jacob saw other boats hit the seawall and soldiers pouring ashore. “We’re going in hot! Hold on!” the sailor at the controls yelled and opened the throttle to the max. Just before hitting the wall, he cut the wheel hard and slammed the throttle forward, forcing the boat into a swift turn and rapid stop. The boat’s momentum lifted it from the water and slammed it against the wall.
Cass was knocked back but recovered quickly and tossed a looped line over a cleat. He pulled the line tight, ducking under the cover of the wall. Jacob watched as Cass turned and pointed at him. “Go! What are you waiting for?” Cass yelled.
Jacob stood on wobbly legs; he grabbed the edge of the wall and pulled himself up while being pushed from behind at the same time as others scrambled to leave the boat. Although he stepped high, his boot caught the edge of the sea wall. Forcing everything he had into his leg, he launched himself up and out of the boat. Running ahead, he saw the Others to his front charging toward the men invading the shoreline.
“Get to the trail!” Murphy screamed.
Jacob raised his rifle, firing at the ones directly to his front. He felt the state trooper fall in behind him while another solder fell in to his left.
“Push forward, dammit! Don’t stop!” Murphy yelled again.
Taking comfort in the closeness of the rest of the squad, Jacob willed his legs forward. Soon they were all falling in line with each other on the trail, firing to their front as they moved forward.
The black-eyed creatures were cut down as they advanced inland. The squad ran to the short wall lining the highway that outlined the main grounds of the park. The state trooper took a round to the cheekbone; his left hand reached up and touched the wound with a gloved hand. He looked at Jacob and asked, “Is it bad?”
Jacob watched the trooper remove his hand, revealing the blood, bone, and ripped flesh that hung off his face. “Fuck yeah, it’s bad,” Jacob answered.
Cass jumped between them yelling, “Get your rifles back in the fight!”
Cass yanked a bandage off the trooper’s belt and wrapped his face and cheek while the trooper returned fire into the remaining creatures. All the teams were ashore and bodies—friend and foe—littered the approach.
As Jacob scanned to the left and right, he saw a sea of rifles pointing over the short wall. The soldiers held fifty feet of open terrain along the highway. The other short wall on the opposite side would have to be crossed to get to them. A pair of creatures charged forward, jumping the far wall and running onto the highway. All along the line, weapons opened up and shredded the beasts as scared defenders fired at anything that moved.
Murphy walked back and forth behind the line of soldiers. Slapping shoulders and encouraging them while also assisting with weapons malfunctions. “Watch your lanes! Conserve your fire!” Murphy yelled up and down the lines.
“What does that mean?” a man yelled in a frustrated voice.
“Shoot what’s in front of you, not what’s in front of me!” a soldier yelled back sarcastically.
The immediate enemy turned away from the highway and back to the fighting on Michigan Avenue. With the highway and beachfront now clear, Jacob could hear the frantic battle and screaming of the air assault teams. The sky soldiers had done their job pulling the Others off the beaches and luring them to their positions further inland. Now the air assault troops were cut off from the beachfront, overwhelmed, and surrounded on Michigan Avenue. Gunships flew in making strafing runs, trying to provide desperate cover.
“The Apaches only have enough fuel and ammo for a couple passes,” Cass said to no one in particular. “They’ll have to drop back soon.”
Jacob sat at the wall, staring into the smoky mist and listening to the battle. Distant screams mixed with the rapid firing of rifles and machine guns. He knew that when the Others finished with the air assault troops, they would move back to the highway. Explosions ripped across Michigan Avenue and clouds of dark smoke billowed across the grasses of the park, obscuring the view ahead. Bright flashes of light shone through like orange glows of fire as nearby buildings ignited.
Far to the south, Jacob could see the transport helicopters returning. They hovered then dropped to the roof of the stone-walled “castle”. Too far to see individual people, he still knew the assault was working; the aggressors were being pulled off the museum, allowing the helicopters to get in close enough to make extractions. The gunfire to the front gradually picked up, and then slowly declined as the air assault troops were taken out of the fight.
“Get ready, they’ll be coming for us now!” someone yelled.
Men to his left and right lay pressed against the wall. Veteran soldiers undid snaps on their vests and readied magazines for quick access; grenades were placed on the tops of the
walls. An engineer team bravely ran to the center of the road and placed a hasty line of claymores before bailing back.
A man’s hoarse scream came out of the smoke. “Don’t shoot, don’t shoot!” he yelled as he emerged from the smoke and haze. He leapt over the far wall and tumbled to the street then crawled forward before clawing back to his feet.
“Go! Get out of here… they’re coming… there’s too many of them!” he yelled as he ran across the highway, breaking through the near wall just feet from Jacob.
The man pulled himself over the wall and scrambled for the boats. A sergeant tackled him and pulled him down behind cover, trying to calm him. Jacob could hear the man screaming, yet not able to make out the words. The mob in the smoke drowned out all other sounds. As they drew closer and the yelling become frenzied, the state trooper to Jacob’s left backed away from the wall.
“Fuck it, I didn’t sign up for this!” the trooper said, turning away. Cass was behind him and shoved him back into position.
“There is no place to run!” he yelled up and down the line. “Get ready!”
Jacob had flashbacks of watching old movies about forces armed with axes, charging an opposing army who stood behind a shield wall and waited for a tidal wave of death to push against them. British soldiers on line, facing down waves of charging Zulu warriors; every man on the wall had a purpose and together, they were strong. If one man failed and allowed a breach in the shield wall, they all would fall.
The swarm grew louder, their feet beating against the sod and pavement. The smoke hanging over the park appeared to boil from the turbulence of thousands of attackers charging under the haze. The first of them rammed the far wall; the rest were moving so fast they collided and tumbled over it as rapid salvos from the soldiers’ rifles cut them down. Another wave was close behind and moved the mass forward like a bulldozer shoving them to their deaths at the hands of the soldiers’ rifles. The next wave slowed; calculated now, they dropped into cover. While looking for holes and running at angles, they hurdled over the barriers.
