Apex Fallen

by C. A. Michaels

  The policeman nodded and had a quick word to the bus driver.

  Outside the bus Dan could see the buildings of Peterson Base grow larger. He felt an ominous twist in his stomach as they neared the perimeter fence of the airfield and passed through an abandoned check-point into the streets and buildings of the base. It wasn’t right, seeing everything so quiet after hearing the firsthand accounts of the USAF police. He wasn’t alone in staring out the window to get a glimpse of what was going on. All the soldiers in the bus were doing the same.

  On his left the Lieutenant with one arm of his MOPP suit taped in a reflective band sidled up to Dan.

  “You heard all of that?” Dan asked. The LT nodded, still glancing out the windows. “What’s your name?”

  “Lieutenant Fredericks, Sir.”

  “OK, Fredericks, let’s keep everyone in close and keep things orderly when the buses stop at the armory. If you can shake everyone out into three squads and find a Sergeant for each from amongst this lot then I’ll be a lot happier.” Fredericks nodded and started to reply, but Dan’s attention was fixated out the window. The buses had turned onto a street lined with service buildings and, for the first time, he could make out figures.

  Most were inside buildings, looking out from behind shutters, and Dan couldn’t see any details of unusual behaviors. On the corner were thirty or so men and women, most in Air Force uniforms, standing closely bunched together. Two armed guards – probably more USAF military police Dan thought – stood with them, but from the body language it was obvious they weren’t prisoners but were seeking protection in the open. The buses kept to a steady speed of 20 mph and they passed into another street.

  This time they could make out more figures in door-ways – human figures, but hunched and cowering, shying from their view. Dan’s first thought was that they looked like a spitting incarnation of a Shakespearean king fallen into insanity, like the one he had acted in over a decade ago. Hunched and drawn and inhuman looking. They were crouched and staring, eyes wide and wild, but there was an emptiness and an absence of emotion in their faces that made Dan’s skin crawl. Their clothing was a mess, with blood smeared from their faces and clothing partially torn. Previously immaculate military uniforms and combat fatigues were in disarray on their figures, and the body language shown by the people was more animal than human, low to the ground and heads moving jerkily. Most of them were squatting, with some rocking back and forth. Dan couldn’t hear anything over the noise of the bus but he could imagine them making a low wailing and moaning noise, judging by the way their mouths moved. He turned to look at Lance, who was staring further up the street. Dan followed his gaze.

  Behind a small hedge-row a distorted figure was flailing at something. As they neared, Dan could make out a middle-aged man’s figure covered in blood and dirt. In his hands he held a stick and hammered it back towards the ground. Someone near him swore, and Dan realized that a prone, disfigured body was underneath the man. The military policeman grimaced and had the driver stop and open the doors when they were opposite the scene of the crime. Dan wanted to avert his eyes from the grizzly scene – he thought he could make out the smaller, smashed figure as a young male airman despite the body being largely pulverized – but he watched transfixed as the USAF MP dismounted and took two steps away from the bus, M4 raised. Lance was behind him, watching from the steps of the bus but hold his hand out, keeping everyone inside. The MP paused, his M4 at his shoulder as he took aim on the grotesque, bloodied figure. Dan heard the MP call out a challenge and the figure turned, stared and snarled. The face was a mess of blood and gore, and the eyes were distant but blood-shot and aggressive. Very predator-like, Dan thought. The MP didn’t hesitate any longer and fired two shots in rapid succession, both slamming into the bloodied figure and propelling him back. The shots echoed down the street, setting off the other hunched-over figures into a panicked sprint.

  Over the next five minutes the soldiers got familiar with the view of the terrified, haunted figures either ducking from site and the aggressive, deranged figures standing in a frozen glare at the vehicles passing or ducking away, out of sight. They didn’t happen onto any more gruesome scenes in the open and the MP’s didn’t stop the bus until they reached a low, square concrete building ringed by a large chain fence topped with razor wire. The military police dismounted and led the two buses into the area, shutting the gates behind them.

  While the first two squads that had been hastily organized by Lieutenant Fredericks filed through the armory drawing weapons, Dan took the opportunity to shed the heavy, hot MOPP suit. The Colorado summer was beating down in full force at Peterson Air Force Base, and his multicam shirt was damp with sweat as he peeled off the last of his over-garments. Somehow the SOCOM boys had managed to shed their MOPP sets in half the time Dan had – they always did things twice as fast, but with greater style, Dan grudgingly noted. Fredericks found him just as he had his final over-boot off.

  “Everyone is armed, Sir. They had a few shotguns that we’ve loaded into the buses, and everyone’s got an M4. Here’s yours, Sir,” he said, handing Dan a compact, black assault rifle. Dan racked the action back and inspected the chamber to make sure it was clear of any rounds.

  “Clear,” he said, releasing the working parts and firing the action so it was no longer cocked. He now had his own rifle and he knew it was in the unloaded state – something that had been ingrained in him as an infantry officer from day one of his training. He then turned to Fredericks.

  “Seriously, no optics?” Dan’s rifle was slick – the rails on top didn’t have the normal ACOG magnified sight or even an older generation holographic EOTech sight mounted on it.

  “None of them did,” Fredericks replied.

  “We’re back to iron sights. Worse, though, is that there was only a single box of mags, so only a dozen of the guys got any magazines with their weapons.” Dan groaned. An M4 without a magazine was useless. Worse than useless – it wasn’t possible to load it with single rounds unless you wanted to gamble with keeping your finger-tips, so he was left with nothing more than an awkward, expensive club.

  “And no ammo, either.” Dan groaned again. Of course there wouldn’t be – it was most likely against some form of Air Force or base regs to store weapons and ammo in the same permanent facility, because that would make things just too easy for him.

  The MP team leader was waiting for them to finish. He acknowledged Dan’s concern with a nod of the head.

  “We’ll be able to find some ammo and mags at the watch-house. Not much, and not enough for all of you, but enough to get every second man kitted out. Only thing is...” the MP nodded at Lance and another of the SF men who had accompanied him “...we’ll need you to clear it. I don’t really want to be stepping inside, again – I’ve had some pretty close calls when we first were called out, and I haven’t got enough men to do the task justice.”

  “Got it,” Lance said. Now they had taken off their MOPP oversuits, Dan could see a unit flash on his shoulder. 75th Ranger Regiment. Rangers, then, which made sense given their jungle multicams. They must have been preparing for a mission to the Philippines, or perhaps to Africa, when they got pulled for this crisis. Not that they’d be able to tell him where they had planned on going, if it even mattered any more.

  “Get us to the watch-house, tell us where we need to go to get the kit and keep the buses secure. We’ll be able to handle the rest.”

  ***

  The ten minute trip went by in a blur for Dan. The buses were only travelling at 20 to 30 miles per hour, but he could hardly remember anything he had seen on the way by the time they pulled up outside their destination. They had passed by a few groups of unaffected survivors, all standing together in the open, all looking shell-shocked, Dan managed to recall. There were also a fair number of haunted, sick figures darting away and looking out from cover. Dan couldn’t tell but he thought he could make out those that were violent and aggressive based off their lowered, hunting postu
re and the thicker, bloodier mess on their face and clothes. When the buses pulled to a halt he felt dazed and tired, still trying to shake off the feeling that everything was surreal but without success. The military police had fanned out and the Rangers were readying themselves to make entry. Most of Dan’s soldiers remained on the bus, lacking anything better to do. All the MOPP suits had been discarded but everyone still looked hot and uncomfortable under their body armor.

  Dan was standing next to Fredericks. He’d tried to find out more information about the men he was now in command of but he gave up after the first few answers. Fredericks was a signals officer and at least half of the men were logisticians or engineers by trade. He’d probably only be able to shake out a squad’s worth of combat soldiers if he was lucky. In the space of four hours Captain Dan Martin had gone from being in command of a rifle company to being somehow in charge of an ad-hoc, ramshackle bunch of soldiers, of whom less a handful had been under his old C Company as of this morning. He wondered where the rest of his company, his proper company, were right now and what they were doing.

  “Going live, guns up!” one of the Rangers called as they entered the building. The Rangers were gone for five minutes before the first reports of gunfire echoed back from the building. A few, single staccato rounds reverberated around the area, with the soldiers sitting in the buses and the MP’s all flinching at each bang. A short burst followed, and then silence returned. After the initial waves of gunfire stopped resonating through the streets the sound of birds and the wind returned. The first indication of movement came from an MP standing behind one of the buses, looking onto the street.

  “Movement, 100, man in open, moving towards us. Unarmed, but he’s closing!” the MP called. 100 meters away was close in a combat situation where rounds could reach out and hammer at targets over a kilometer away, but against an unarmed opponent 100 meters still provided plenty of stand-off for a soldier armed with an M4. Dan stepped around the bus to look down the street. He was clutching his M4 but felt completely naked without the ability to load and action it. Two MP’s were both facing towards the figure, who was standing, hunched at the shoulders, and sliding his way along the edge of a building towards them. It was moving towards them at a slow, steady pace, but his progress was labored and ungainly. Dan turned to look down the other end of the street and realized that there wasn’t anyone covering it. Movement caught his eye and he saw numerous shapes surging between bushes and buildings all along his front.

  “Behind you, 50 meters, more than five of them,” he called out, louder and sharper in tone than he had meant to. That clearly rattled the MP’s, who had lined up the first figure with their M4’s and had become fixated in that one direction. Hearing that they had movement behind them as well as to their front startled them, and they both moved so that their backs were against the bus as they orientated out in both directions.

  “Do we engage?” one asked Dan. Dan looked either way down the street.

  “Are they closing on us?” he asked.

  “No, looks like they are holding at 50 meters,” one of the MP’s replied, after scanning around him.

  “Hold fire, then, and track them.” Dan moved back to the side of the bus. More contacts were being reported around their hasty perimeter, but none closer than 50m.

  “It looks like there are a dozen of them out there,” the leader of the MP’s told him. Looking at his rank, Dan guessed he was a sergeant. “Think they’re bandits, not the meek type.”

  “Bandits? So you know they’re bad?” Dan asked.

  “It looks like they’re all agro. Blood everywhere, and the hunched posture like they’re about to launch at us. Kind of gives them away, but I’m not an expert at this.”

  “Roger,” Dan replied, accepting the information, unable to think of think of much else to say right now. They were cut off by some pretty devilish looking humans who, up until a few hours ago, had been people. They were facing something out of a twisted, demonic vision of hell. And he didn’t have any bullets. This world was all sorts of fucked up.

  “Any news?” Dan asked, nodding towards the military police sergeant’s handset.

  “No sir. I’ve called in what we’re doing to base command and they’ve acknowledged, but I don’t think they have any idea actually what’s going on. I don’t even think that they know what our call-sign is, let alone what we are doing or where we are. I think the base staff are overwhelmed.”

  “Like all of us. It will come right.” Dan thought, as the ranking officer on the scene, he ought to try and add some optimism to things. He just wished the Rangers would finish clearing the building so his men – and himself – could get access to some ammo. He would feel a lot better knowing he could shoot these damned demonic figures.

  They didn’t have to wait long. A Ranger stuck his head out of the watch-house. “Cleared. Send some of your boys in to open the safe and we’ll be out of here double-quick time.” The MP Sergeant nodded and dispatched the waiting work party of soldiers and police with a wave.

  Most of the Rangers stepped out before the work party was back. Their weapons were held at the low-ready and they looked more relaxed than the MPs on the outside. Lance grinned at Dan, but his smile was robotic and lacked any emotion.

  “Hanging in there, Captain?” Lance asked as he neared Dan.

  “How did it go?”

  “Not what I wanted. We challenged, but no-one responded. We then tried to keep them back with yelling, and most scattered in front of us. A few took us on, though, and we ended up dropping them. Maybe three, maybe four of them. Not good – doesn’t seem right shooting anyone unarmed – but they didn’t leave us much choice. I don’t know what’s going on, either, and I didn’t want any of us grappling with them. Lord knows if what they’ve got is contagious.”

  Dan nodded. He didn’t share Lance’s concern – he’d feel better with a working weapon on him, and if some non-descript, unknown horror had to be shot in his pursuit of one, then so be it. Mercy was something you could opt for only if you had alternatives and only when you were in a position of strength. Once he was armed, then he would be happy to face philosophical quandaries. Until then he just wanted some damned bullets.

  There was some advantage to having a few logisticians under your command, Dan saw, as the divvying up of the ammunition and magazines proceeded smoothly. After a few minutes of loading and lines of men moving though, Dan joined in and picked up three full magazines and one half-full. Just over a hundred rounds of 5.56mm – better, he thought, loading one of the full mags into the rifle and slipping the other three into his pockets. His M4 felt light and he felt another pang of nagging frustration that he didn’t have his normal ancillaries – an ACOG sight, a laser-aiming device and a light – on his rifle. If he was going to have to defend himself he wanted every advantage possible, and it seemed somehow unfair that his rifle was slick.

  Fredericks had shaken out one of the squads to reinforce the MP’s perimeter. Not half-bad for a signals lieutenant. Near the bus half a dozen Rangers including Lance and the MP Sergeant were gathered in a small circle. Dan moved over to them.

  Lance had scratched some lines into the dirt and, using a stick as a pointer, made sure he had the lay of the land from the MP Sergeant.

  “So Vandenberg Street has parking lots along here? OK, what is the distance of the loop road? Are we looking at 200 meters? 500?”

  “500, maybe 600 meters each side, I guess.”

  “OK.” Lance looked thoughtful. There was some yelling from the perimeter but the circle ignored the distraction. Lance made eye contact with Dan and held his gaze for a few seconds.

  “Captain....”

  “Just Dan, if you want.”

  “OK, Dan, we need to get to the loc of base command, which is probably 2 clicks from us. I don’t like the situation we’re in, but our mission is paramount right now and I don’t want to be stuck walking through Peterson for the next couple of hours, coming face to face with those... thin
gs... when we’ve got a job to do. The roads look clear, so we’ll drive through to the corner of Vandenberg and the main Boulevard, here.” The Ranger commander pointed to one of the intersecting lines on the ground.

  “Any issues along the way, I’ll have a squad on each bus to clear our route. Stay mounted, and we’ll try to get to our intersection with minimal delay. Once we are here we’ll dismount and sweep the loop road around the HQ building. Giving a bit of breathing space to the local cops “ – Lance nodded at the MP Sergeant – “will be worth it for the 20 minutes it will take us. Put a squad on each street and keep a squad behind us, covering our flank and rear. The buses will follow us in with the rear squad. I’ll have my lot in the centre, linking your left and right groups. We’ll sweep around any buildings or built up areas inside so you guys only have to clear the open streets and verges. Once we hit the car-parks and get eyes on the far side of the loop road we’ll halt and collapse back in on command, forming a perimeter around the main building of the HQ which should be a three storied block. I’ll confirm what happens after that.” Lance paused to scan the skies above him while his mind ticked over.

  “I don’t know what our Rules of Engagement here are, but we’ll be using lethal force for collective self defense. We’ve seen the violence some of these things are capable of, so if you identify one of the aggro ones put it down on sight, OK? They’ll back off in front of us but as soon as their cornered they’ll launch, so end it in the open, on our terms, as soon as you can. Actions on finding any of the sick ones that aren’t aggressive is to scare them away from the road, but don’t pursue. Actions on any normal survivors will be to send them back and they can walk in alongside the bus until we’re secure at the HQ. Any questions?”

  One of the Rangers spoke up. “MOPP suits and masks with us?”

  “Good point,” Lance nodded. “Suits will stay on the bus. We can’t carry them and stay mobile, and on that way they are close enough to us that we will be able to suit up in a hurry if we need to. Does that sound workable?” Most of the Rangers nodded.