by W. J. Lundy
Whiskey Tango Foxtrot
Only the Dead Live Forever
By W. J. Lundy
Whiskey Tango Foxtrot
Only the Dead Live Forever
© 2013 W. J. Lundy
V10.30.13
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental. All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.
Edited by Monique Happy Editorial Services
http://www.moniquehappy.com
Dedicated to my family. My wife and daughter who listen to all of my drawn out stories, do the hard work at home, and wait for me while I am away. If not for them I would have nothing worth working for, and nothing worth coming home to. And of course Mom and Dad you have always served as my biggest fans, encouraging me and providing the best advice. Thank you for setting the example.
1.
“Oasis, this is Talon, Oasis, this is Talon,” the pilot, Captain Bradley, said over the radio, receiving only static as a response.
The Black Hawk flew low and fast over the dark churning waters of the Arabian Sea. There were flashes of light on the horizon from a developing storm. The helicopter’s console flashed a warning that was audible in their headsets. They had been in the air for what seemed like hours. Brad had watched the co-pilot look at the warning light and reset it several times earlier, but now he was just ignoring it.
“You boys are going to want to keep those floatation devices handy. You may want to drop some of that body armor too, unless you’re looking to sink to the bottom like a stone,” Mr. Douglas, his co-pilot, said over the beeping of the alarm.
“Something you’d like to tell us, Sir?” Brooks asked with a sarcastic tone.
“We’re having a bit of trouble contacting the platform and we’re past bingo fuel; things may get wet here very soon,” Captain Bradley answered over his headset.
Brad removed his tactical body armor and helmet and put on the inflatable flotation device. Sean and Brooks were making the same preparations. He watched the pilots scan the horizon; although they outwardly appeared very calm, he could see the worry on their faces. When Brad looked out of the window he understood why; he could barely make out the whitecaps of the sea below.
“Oasis, this is Talon … Oasis, this is Talon,” Bradley again called over the radio, still no response.
“There she is, at your eleven o’clock,” Mr. Douglas motioned to the pilot.
Brad looked forward between the pilots seats. Far ahead he could begin to make out the shape of a huge object towering above the water. There was one red flashing beacon at the top of a long antenna; the rest of the platform was completely blacked out The platform columns projecting out of the sea appeared to have a number of vessels moored alongside them.
“Oasis, this is Talon… Oasis, this is Talon,” Bradley called out again in frustration.
“We aren’t getting any response from the platform. I’m going to make one pass around the rig and then we’re going to have to land. We don’t have much flight time left in the tanks,” Bradley called out to all of them.
The helicopter slowed and passed a hundred yards off the starboard side of the platform, then circled around, flying counterclockwise and orbiting the rig. The platform was an impressive sight. It sat high above the water and boasted nearly three football fields of surface space on its large upper deck. Brad could see at least three levels of decks; the top one housed a number of cranes and towers. Three of the corners had distinct rust-colored steel building structures, while the open fourth corner was piled high with crates and industrial equipment. The helicopter landing pad was on piers elevated above the largest of the three building platforms.
The antenna tower light flashed a red beacon high above the rig, allowing them to see reflections off the window glass on the structure as they flew by them. There were no signs of movement on any of the decks; the rig appeared abandoned.
“It’s go time. We don’t have fuel to make it back to the coast, and there sure as hell won’t be any water rescue coming for us, so I’m going to set us down,” Bradley told them.
The helicopter pad was on the southwest corner of the platform. The pilot lined the Black Hawk up for an approach, began to slow it down, and then moved into a controlled hover. Brad looked out of the window and saw the dark landing pad emblazoned with a large letter ‘H’. The landing pad was raised high above the other structures and was connected to the greater platform by a steel walkway. The floodlights on the walkway were all blacked out and the navigation lights that normally ringed the pad were off. The rig itself was silent and absent of movement.
“I’m bringing her in. Let’s get frosty, guys; you may want to lock and load. I’m getting a bad vibe over this whole deal,” Bradley said over the intercom.
All of the men had a bad feeling. Brad observed Sean and Brooks ready their weapons and pull down their night vision goggles as the helicopter slowly lowered to the landing pad. The helicopter landing gear made contact heavily with the deck. The pilots ran through checklists and began to power down the aircraft. Soon the turbines were idling down and there was nothing but the whipping sounds of the slowing blades. The pilots removed their headsets and harnesses, climbed over the center console, and moved into the rear part of the now silent helicopter.
“What are you thinking, Sir?” Sean asked in a low voice.
“I am really stumped, Chief, bordering on the verge of being very pissed off. I was told this place was manned by a platoon of Marines,” Bradley answered. “Something is very wrong here.”
“Hell yeah it’s wrong! I wouldn’t have taken this job if I’d known this would be what was waiting for us! I could still be in Bahrain, knee deep in cheap scotch,” Mr. Douglas grumbled.
Sitting on the elevated landing pad and looking out the windows of the aircraft, they couldn’t make out anything on the rig. In the distance they could see the occasional flash of lightning and hear the sound of thunder, making the current situation worse. The navigational windsocks were starting to blow and whip about at the tops of their poles, and the air had cooled considerably compared to what they had left in Afghanistan hours ago.
“Looks like we have a storm coming in,” Sean whispered as his eyes studied the horizon.
“Chief, I’m going to need you and your men to secure the landing pad so Mr. Douglas and I can tie down the bird. We don’t want to lose this aircraft if the winds pick up,” Bradley said.
“Aye aye, Sir, just give the word,” Sean said, obviously anxious to leave the helicopter and get to work.
Captain Bradley checked the slide of his M9 pistol to verify its readiness before securing it in its holster. He looked to Mr. Douglas who gave him a thumbs up.
“Okay, Chief we’ll exit the same side. Mr. Douglas and I will secure the bird with the tie downs while you and your men pull security. Once everything is complete, we can meet up with you over there by the railing,” Bradley said, pointing to a spot near the walk way entrance.
“Roger that, we are all over it,” Sean said as he reached down and pulled the door open, letting in the cool damp night air.
Brooks exited first with his MP5 at the ready and turned right towards the tail of the aircraft. Brad came out next, followed by Sean. Brad moved past the nose of the aircraft and continued around it, securing the far side of the landing pad. Sean swept towards the nose and took a knee, scanning everything in his sector. When all of the men felt confident they were
alone, one by one they said “clear” in low voices.
“Deck is clear, Sir,” Sean said just above a whisper towards the Black Hawk’s door.
The pilots stepped from the interior of the aircraft. Captain Bradley immediately placed chocks under the helicopter’s wheels, while Mr. Douglas grabbed a stack of gear from the crew chief’s position. Then the two men started applying tie downs to secure the helicopter to the deck. After they finished, Captain Bradley made a quick pass around the bird, verifying it was tied down to his satisfaction. When he felt everything was complete he moved to the rally point he had indicated earlier.
Sean moved to the pilot’s location and took a knee. They were now overlooking the entire platform. They could see down the length of the walkway and to the landing below. The structures were all dark and there were no signs of life. The thunder was growing louder and the wind had begun to pick up. Sean looked to Bradley and whispered “What’s the call, Sir?”
“There are fuel lines on the deck, but we will need power to use them. With that storm coming we won’t be going anywhere for a while anyhow. I think we need to find shelter and find out what the hell is going on here.”
“Let’s move in a line down the ladder well. We’ll secure the base, then scout from there,” Sean said, then nodded at Captain Bradley as he continued. “I assume you know how to use that thing strapped to your hip, Sir?”
“It’s been awhile but I think I’ll figure it out,” Bradley said drily, drawing his weapon. “Ready to move when you are, Chief.”
“Brooks, take point; you fly boys, stay close behind me; Brad, you have rear security. We’ll leave the heavy bags in the bird and come back for them later,” Sean whispered. “Okay, unless there are any questions, let’s get moving.”
2.
Brooks slowly made his way down the long stairwell to the walkway below. Sean stayed in position at the top of the stairs, covering Brook’s descent. The lightning had picked up its intensity and the winds were blowing harder. The team could hear the waves crashing against the structure’s support pylons. Brooks cautiously reached the bottom, took a spot at the base of the stairs, and began searching in all directions. When he was confident it was clear, he signaled for Sean to proceed down.
Sean moved forward with the pilots behind him while Brad rotated into the over watch position. Sean stepped onto the landing and pivoted in the opposite direction of Brooks, then signaled for Brad to join them below. Brad took one last look at the compound from his elevated position; he saw nothing but the darkened structures and stirring sea waters in the distance. He stepped off quickly, made his way to the base of the stairs to rejoin the group, and took a knee beside Sean.
Then the sky opened up and the heavy rains came. Within seconds they were all soaked with the chilled water. The walkway at the base of the platform ran in two directions. Right led towards the open storage deck, and the left led down into the large structure under the helicopter pad. Sean signaled for Brooks to move the group toward the building.
Brooks wiped off his washed-out night vision goggles that were drowning in the torrential rain, and put on a large floppy boonie cap to shield them. Then he stepped off slowly with his MP5 at the ready. Brad stood wet and shivering at the back of the group, turning to look behind them as the team moved out. He had the feeling they were being watched, or that they at least were not alone. He tried to calm himself and turned to follow the rest of the group.
It was less than fifty feet to the first building. The entrance was barred by two large steel doors mounted on the face of a tall rigid steel wall. Sean moved forward to inspect the doors. Small round windows of wire-reinforced glass mounted in them met him at eye level, but for the time being Sean avoided exposing himself to them. He motioned for the pilots to wait near the wall while he called Brad and Brooks to stack up on the entrance.
Brooks formed up on the left side of the door with Brad behind him, while Sean stayed to the right. Sean reached forward and tried the door and found it unlocked. He then signaled to Brooks, who nodded in recognition, and then as quietly as he could, Sean eased the door open. When it was just wide enough for a person, Brooks swiftly moved into the room and cut to the right. Brad was right behind him and swept in to the left. Sean was the last one in and he stood in the doorway, scanning the entire length of the dark room.
They had entered into a large lounge; pool tables and sofas were overturned throughout the room. There was evidence of a battle; spent brass and blood trails were everywhere. The space was lit by low wattage emergency lighting so they could see the back of the room, where another set of large doors stood. Their safety-glass windows were shattered. Brooks moved towards them and checked the handle; finding them locked, he looked back to Sean and shrugged his shoulders.
“Okay guys, secure this space and get something to block that door. I’ll bring in the officers,” Sean whispered.
Brad and Brooks worked together to lift a large cabinet and sat it against the door at the back of the room to block themselves in. Sean walked through the entrance, trailed by the two soaking wet officers. He quickly secured the double doors and flipped the bolt locks, securing themselves in. Searching for lights but finding none, Brooks pulled on the emergency lighting lamps and pointed them down so a soft light filled the space.
Brad moved to a corner of the room and fell onto a large, overstuffed chair. Looking around the space, it appeared that a fight had broken out in the room; furniture was tossed around and the plasma TV screens were destroyed. A refrigerator in the corner had the door ripped open and it was knocked over and onto its face. “So where the hell are the Marines?” Brad asked no one in particular.
“They were supposed to be here,” Bradley said. “This is really messed up. Do you still have your phone, Chief?”
“I already tried. I’m not getting a signal down here, probably too much steel in this building. I’ll have to try again up by the helo after the weather clears. No point in us risking moving around in that shit right now,” Sean answered.
He walked towards the now-barricaded doors. He tried looking through the spider-webbed glass, but found it impossible to see through.
“Brad? Brooks? You two up for some exploring?” he asked.
“Sure, why not? I was getting bored anyhow,” Brooks said, getting to his feet and checking the magazine on his MP5.
Brad worked himself up out of the overstuffed chair and moved to the doors. Quietly, he helped Brooks pull the cabinets away from the entrance and stood behind the SEALs, waiting for direction.
“We’re just going to check out this building and see if we can find out what’s going on, Sir. You two block this door behind us and don’t let anyone in,” Sean said.
He pulled the small Jimmy bar and lock pick from his kit and started working the door. It was a heavy fire door designed to protect the space from intense heat, but the locks were not made to stop a determined thief. With a little bit of effort the seam in the door began to split, then the latch gave, popping just enough so that Sean could open the door a crack. There was nothing but darkness on the other side.
“You two ready?” Sean asked.
“Let’s get to it,” Brooks answered.
Sean slowly opened the door and Brooks slipped inside, followed by Sean, then Brad. Once they were through, the pilots quickly closed the doors and could be heard sliding furniture back against the opening.
Brad’s night vision was powered up, and with his IR flashlight he could make out the greenish hue of a long hallway. Like the lounge they had just left, this hallway was scattered with random furniture and reams of office papers. There were mangled bodies in utility uniforms lying along the passageway, along with weapons and spent rounds to go with them. The space reeked of blood and cordite, and there were bullet holes and broken glass everywhere.
They took a few steps into the hallway, then knelt down to just listen and observe. All they could hear were the sounds of the storm outside. There was a subtle breeze c
oming from a broken window at the end of the long hallway, and an occasional lightning strike would briefly light the space, exposing the bodies to its ambient light. The floor was a glossy tile, now covered with blood that made the rubber soles of their boots feel sticky.
Brooks slowly got to his feet and stepped off, moving deliberately with his feet apart and his weapon at the ready. He lifted his feet high to step over the multitude of bodies and objects that littered the hallway. He moved past the first doorway, then posted up to allow Sean, who was directly behind him, to try the door. Finding it unlocked, Sean looked back and signaled for Brad to enter once the door was opened. Sean quickly opened the door and Brad moved though it to the left. Sean followed Brad, while Brooks held his position in the hallway, covering their backs.
Brad moved in and quickly checked all of the corners and dead spaces in the room; Sean did the same, working from the opposite direction. When they were confident the room was clear, they whispered to each other in low voices. This room looked untouched. There was a small desk in a corner with an office chair behind it, as well as a book shelf and filing cabinets against one wall. They rummaged through drawers and stacks of paperwork on the desk for information, but it seemed to be routine correspondence from the oil company PAK-PETRO to a middle manager, all of it dated before the outbreak.
As they moved back into the hallway, Sean placed his hand on Brooks’ shoulder to indicate they were ready to move on. They cleared four more offices along the hallway in the same fashion, but still found nothing of interest. At the end of the hallway, they cautiously stacked up at a set of stairs. The window at the end of the hall was broken and, looking out, they could see the stormy waters of the sea. The rain was still coming down hard, and the broken window had allowed some of the rain to get in to soak the floor.
