Apex Fallen

by C. A. Michaels

  When they did spot one of the haunted, hideous faces of the aggressive, murderous figures – and they were getting good at recognizing their enemy – the driver would stop the vehicle briefly, allowing the vehicle gunner to take a shot. It seemed that the ghoulish figures were learning, though, and rarely stayed still long enough for anyone to draw a bead and fire on them. Yesterday they had seemed content to observe them with some stand-off distance. Now they darted behind obstacles, preventing a clear line of fire being drawn between them and any soldiers.

  The 6 clicks, or kilometers, to the objective went by reasonably quickly. No other military forces were seen during their move, and the further they drove into the sea of urban desolation the more abandoned, hopeless and alone Dan felt. More than ever he was glad that Lance had asked him to come along. He was the only Ranger he knew by name, but he felt a strong, desperate connection to him. He wasn’t exactly a friend but right now he was the closest to a friend he had. They had shared the bound of combat only hours before, though, and in some ways that made them more than friends – comrades, brothers-in-arms. The rest of his company was God-knows-where, and if you had to choose a new best friend after the apocalypse had kicked off, it might as well be a tabbed Special Forces operator, Dan reasoned.

  As they neared the floodway they could see a small group of single-storied shops on the left of the road and a large, industrial area to the right. The shops were surrounded by trees and low buildings, making it vulnerable and hard to secure. The industrial area was ringed by a solid, chain-linked fence. The Ranger in the seat opposite Dan grinned. “Home sweet home!”

  They had to double back to find the turn-off into the compound. The lot, which bordered an even larger concrete processing plant along the highway, was based around a couple of conex containers being used as office accommodation and three large, horizontal gas cylinders, each 15 meters long.

  The gate into the industrial area was a large, see-through mesh affair with wheels on it. It was open when they drove into the large park and the last humvee through paused to let a couple of soldiers dismount and swing it shut. The soil in the lot was grey and colorless, unlike the slighter redder hues they had seen outside, but around the yard they could see crumpled heaps from which deep, dark red pools of blood were hardening in the morning sun.

  The humvees parked up facing back they way they had entered. Everyone dismounted and the engines were turned off. The fading vehicle noise around them was replaced by the dawn chorus of birds. For an instance it was almost peaceful, until a shot from a few kilometers south once again interrupted their early morning reverie. They quickly organized themselves into pairs and shook out to clear the compound. It was hard to tell how many of the figures they were putting down on account of their suppressed weapons, but progress was slow. Dan helped clear the parked cars which, despite the recent accumulation of bodies on the ground, was devoid of any threat.

  “We’re sharing this area with a few of the shaken, haunted types which have been cleared out of the conex’s and are now hiding against the perimeter fence,” Lance confirmed, after all pairs had reported back in.

  “Otherwise it’s clear. So, from here we’ll occupy the main accommodation. We’ll pull a hummer up to the back so we can run our radio from the vehicle mount and we can easily get onto the roof of the unit if we want a platform for any shooting. The other vehicles will stay parked up here, with keys in them. Rags – I’ll have your team open the gates and chase those scared types outta here. Jim – take one of the vehicles to the shops opposite and do a bit of looting, will ya? I’m getting hungry and could do with some takeaways.”

  ***

  The first helicopter was heard before they had finished setting themselves up in the compound. It was a UH60 Blackhawk, and someone had fitted speakers onto the wing pylons.

  “Americans, know that you are not alone. All citizens are asked to move to Fort Carson for their protection. Nevada Avenue is secure from Filmore Street junction south. The United States Army is waiting for you. Please move immediately... Americans, know that you are not alone....”

  For the next three hours they could hear the same message being broadcast over the city. They had settled into a basic routine after their scavenging party had returned with a vehicle’s worth of packaged drinks and dry food. The vehicles were parked and four Rangers stood guard – two in the compound and two at the front of the conex building, watching the road. Those inside tried to get some rest. Despite the slight improvement in everyone’s mood after the food and drink arrived, there was very limited talking. A number of Rangers, Dan saw, were lying down but seemed unable to get any sleep. After a few chocolate bars, a packet of jerky and a bottle of lemonade Dan found himself a small space under a table and lay down, his head resting on his body armor, his rifle next to him.

  Dan was roused awake at two in the afternoon. He had slept solidly through most of the morning and early afternoon, and felt light years better for it.

  “Boss, you’re up for sentry,” a stocky, muscular Ranger Dan didn’t recognize told him, politely but firmly. Dan slid himself out from under the table and pulled his armor on over his head. He moved quietly into the room nearest the road, where the watch was being run, carefully stepping past resting Rangers. Lance was on shift.

  “Welcome to the land of the living – well, mostly living,” he said. “Good sleep?”

  Dan was still blurry from being woken, and took a while to respond.

  “Yep. Did you get your head down, too?”

  “At least three hours worth of sweet, sweet dream-time. Now, though,” Lance indicated the small portion of road they could see to their front, “things are starting to get a bit busier. It sounds like the messages are working. Further down on Nevada Ave a few cars loaded with refugees, and a smaller number on foot, have been trickling through. We have seen a fair bit of foot traffic of refugees heading south, but no vehicles. None of the creatures attacking them, either. I haven’t been looking at it myself but someone has put a drone up in the air and they reckon there is a fair bit of movement in the suburbs to the north, beyond us. Supposedly the road is blocked with a couple of big pile-ups and a few columns of refugees are forming as they leave their cars behind and head in towards us, on foot.” He was looking back at Dan now.

  “So things are going to get a bit busier.”

  Lance paused. “Yep. It is calm now, but if last night is anything to go by night will be a different story.” The radio crackled behind them and Lance listened in briefly.

  “By way of sentry induction, I’ve set everyone with stand-to positions if we need everyone up. Yours is in here, with me. Get on the radio in the event of a stand-to and be a link-man. We’re doing three hour stints on; two hours in here followed by one hour outside, then rest. Actions on for our position being threatened is for one of the fire teams to lock the gate and block it with a hummer, and another fire-team will get on the roof to cover. In the event of the refugee column coming under attack, two of the fire-teams to take up positions along the compound fence and act as over-watch. You’ll stay here regardless and man the means,” again Lance waved at the radio. “If we have to bug out, get to the same vehicle in the same position you drove in on. Stand outside your wagon until the word to move out is given, and only then jump in.” Lance paused, racking his mind. He passed on some technical details about the radio – battery changing procedure, net call-signs and the frequency for radio-checks. Dan missed being in command as it kept one busy. He could see it in Lance, who was busying himself in the minutiae of the tasks and fixating on procedures needed to solve potential problems. Without his platoon, Captain Dan Martin was officially in charge of only himself and it gave him plenty of time for reflection and thought. And those were two things that he didn’t want to do right now.

  “Questions?”

  “No, sounds good.” Lance had everything covered. How they were going to function, and how they would respond to an emergency. The Rangers were good at sm
all unit ops and Dan couldn’t have done anything any better. Especially not with the rag-tag elements thrown together he’d recently been part of. He didn’t want to dwell on that, though. He’d done his best with what he’d got, and he’d have to live with it.

  ***

  Dan should have left his post at 1600 hours, but the traffic outside had increased. A few of the Rangers had roused themselves of their own accord and had taken up positions on the perimeter. That didn’t always happen in the infantry, Dan thought. These guys were tired, but completely focused.

  So far they hadn’t sighted any of the vicious figures. Other call-signs must have, though, as the occasional report of a shot further to the south once again echoed through the air. Lance had returned to the watch-room as soon as the traffic started building up. Dan wondered if had lied about getting some rest earlier, as he always seemed to be on the go.

  The civilian survivors trudging through looked desperate and traumatized. They passed by the Ranger’s position and were waved onwards. They think they’re safe, now, Dan thought. The actual area of protected highway didn’t start for another click, at least. The Ranger’s knew that too, but they were going to do everything they could to keep them secure as they passed through their arcs. That much was obvious. Dan cast his mind over the rest of the route they would have to walk. It would take them 15 kilometers to reach the base, and while he guessed the plan was to use some of the trucks to shuttle refugees in, if more than a handful showed up at any time they’d either have to be held, awaiting the return of the vehicles, or walk themselves. There weren’t enough units to cover the route, either. Thinking back to the Lieutenant Colonel’s map he recalled seeing at least six company-level Areas of Operation, each two to three kilometers long. That in turn meant each company could put a platoon to each kilometer, but knowing that they were severely depleted in manpower as it was, Dan realized they were narrowly strung along this corridor. On reflection, the refugees were as safe passing the Ranger’s position as they were at any point along the road. It was a very, very thin red line holding back the unspeakable from these civilians. Smoke and mirrors, given that the helicopter had promised safe-passage. Let’s pray that nothing tests tries to get past us. Dan knew that was a hollow wish.

  Dan made a few calls back to “Iron Horse Niner,” the headquarters they’d been at this morning. The sighting reports of civilians inbound were relayed and acknowledged.

  Foot traffic slowly swelled until there were a dozen people passing by them every minute, then an hour later it was two dozen. By 1900 hours they were seeing over sixty people an hour. Unlike the earlier groups in the day they could now see children walking, as well. They couldn’t even imagine what the kids had been through. It was a heart-breaking sight.

  Some of the civilian groups passing them were armed. The lucky ones carried rifles or shotguns, whereas others had improvised with garden tools and baseball bats. Most barely acknowledged the Rangers position as they trudged through, slowly. Some gave them a wave at most. Others didn’t even look up, and may not have even realized the Rangers were there.

  The sky was clear of cloud, so the evening sky was still light at 2000 hours despite the sun being low on the horizon. The Rangers on duty – Dan estimated they had unofficially adopted a half-on, half-off ratio of their own accord – clipped their night vision goggles onto their helmets. He had seen that they carried a YOTE day-pack on them every time they left the main building, with their helmets clipped onto the reverse of it. They really wanted their equipment on them at all times. Dan had been handed a helmet out of one of the wagons with the NVG already attached. Even though the street lights were turning on again, he still felt a lot better knowing he could see into the darker areas of the street. They had been safe during the day, but memories of the twelve hours of darkness from the night before kept him on edge.

  Things started to happen with little warning or indication. The flow of civilians increased exponentially, and the occasional groups turned into a constant stream. There was screaming from some as they passed by – they could see the devilish figures skirting around them, stalking them, in the gathering dark.

  The first attack started shortly after eight. From the shops directly opposite the Ranger’s location a few hunched figures darted out, launching stones at the group and trying to close with the nearest family. The aggressive ghouls. Again. Dan had raced to the window and could barely make out the details, but someone on the other side of the road, out of sight, pulled out a shotgun and fired it in the direction of the attack. That scared them off, for now. The Rangers had completely stood to. No-one was going to be sleeping when there was a threat to any civilian outside their compound.

  The commanding officer, Harvey, must have known this was going to happen. He’d deliberately put the Rangers as far forward as he could risk them, knowing they would do everything to keep the folks passing them by as safe as possible. They were better equipped and better trained than any other force under him, so they’d have a better chance of success this far out than any other unit in his force. Lance must have realized this earlier. He was taking the deteriorating situation in his stride.

  Already he was relocating everyone from the watch room onto the roof. Dan scrambled up onto the humvee’s bonnet and then pulled himself onto the top of the conex. Lance had pre-positioned the radio in position, and Dan knelt next to it. Each fuel tank had a small service stand next to it two meters off the ground; each was now occupied by a Ranger. They were taking as much of the high ground in over-watch of the refugee column as they could.

  Lance and two other Rangers were already on the roof, bathed in the soft glow of the street lights and the stronger security lights of the industrial zone. One of the Rangers was the machine gunner, lying down on the edge of the roof and setting his gun up on its bipod. It looked like the infantry’s standard M249 SAW, but the linked belts of ammunition Dan could see coming out of it were larger. 7.62mm. That made it a Mark 48, then, one of the most compact but powerful machine guns available to a dismounted solder. Unfortunately its ability to lay down 700 rounds a minute would be useless to them given the street teeming with civilian foot traffic, but it could also deliver accurate bursts out to 800 meters. The ACOG magnified sight, the same type that Dan had on his HK416, would help the gunner deliver accurate, long-range fire when required.

  Their most valuable weapon, however, was held by the Ranger standing on the edge, scanning the scene beneath them through his scope. As the squad’s designated marksman he was carrying the easily recognizable SCAR-H, another 7.62mm weapon, but this time in the form of a precision battle rifle. The SCAR’s bipod was already extended so that the marksman could easily drop and take a stable firing position on the roof if he needed. For now he was content to scan the scene standing, where the extra height helped him see a little further. The sight he was looking through was a variable powered telescopic scope, more powerful than the ACOGs. Either a Schmidt and Bender or a Leupold, Dan guessed, allowing up to ten or twelve times magnification. The SCAR-H had, like every other rifle in the squad, a suppressor clipped on over the muzzle. The bulk of his squad’s firepower was on the roof in over-watch.

  Dan called in a quick situation report. The call-signs further south on the Avenue had seen a lot of traffic over the afternoon, and this influx would be the result of the northern suburbs emptying. Incidents of the beasts harassing the refugees were being called in from multiple locations along Nevada Ave. Lance nodded when told.

  The street before them was scattered with abandoned vehicles, which made observation of the far side of the road more difficult for them. It seemed that come of the ghouls had taken advantage of this and had crept forward, closer to the civilians still trying to walk past.

  “I can’t make out any targets!” the marksman called back to Lance.

  “Ack, just keep scanning,” was the reply.

  The civilians started to scream and a few started to run past the Ranger’s position. Dan wasn’t sure
why they didn’t try and get into the compound – they must be fixated on getting south to safety, he thought.

  The marksman opened up with two aimed shots – one of the creatures had gotten bolder and had tried to rush at a small group. There was some movement amongst the bushes near the shops, where the hunched shapes had been darting in and out of as they cast stones and rocks towards the civilians.

  “Sweep it!” called out Lance. The marksman kept firing further to the south as the machine gunner slide his body around slightly, so he was directly facing the area. He braced into the machine gun, so it was leaning forward, pressed taught against its bipod. Dan could see the gunners toes kick into the roof, finding a stable grip and then the machine gun opened up. Three bursts, each of around five rounds, swept the far bushes progressively from left to right. Compared to the suppressed gunfire of the SCAR, the Mark 48’s fire was savage and loud, tearing apart the early night with fast, pulsating cracks. There were more screams from below and it seemed that most of the refugees were now running. The street lights were starting to cast elongated shadows everywhere. One of the Rangers near the fence must have seen a large group of threats approaching, as he emptied nearly half a magazine in a quick succession of single rounds. The machine gun fired another burst, and then the crowd in front of them surged up against the fence of the Ranger’s compound. Just beyond their column a number of shadows could be seen moving around the hulks of the empty vehicles. A number of Rangers on the front now had a clear line of fire and they started unleashing 5.56mm rounds against their targets where they could.

  “Keep moving, keep moving!” one of the Rangers along the fence yelled and gestured at the civilians. “Keep moving!”

  It wasn’t urgent right now, but if the civilians kept bunching up at the fence it would cause the foot traffic behind them to close up, forcing delays further back, where the Ranger’s couldn’t cover them. If they got stopped there then all hell could – and would – break lose.