by W. J. Lundy
“The armor saved us; the Bradleys and Abrams tanks rushed forward and plugged the break in the wall. We thought we stopped them. The mass had been beaten back, their numbers dwindled, but we screwed up. It was the ‘No man gets left behind’ and the whole ‘brothers in arms’ thing that screwed us.”
“What do you mean by that?” Brad asked.
“We didn’t understand then how it spread. Some of our guys were really kicking the shit out of those things. But they got scratched and bit. Their buddies carried them back to base and took them to the medics. Hell, we didn’t know they would all turn; nobody told us that part. The hospital fell; units were torn apart from the inside. Segregation orders for the wounded finally came down, but too much damage had already been done.
“It was bad. We were pulled back and we fortified the airfield in final defensive positions. The armor formed a wall of steel and the Air Force dropped in ammo and supplies around the clock. Our guys on the line were holding them back, but they just kept coming. They are attracted to noise, you know … so the more we fought, the more were drawn in; a never-ending loop. When the captain told us we had been tasked to the oil rigs, I felt such relief to be leaving. Everyone knew they were fighting a losing battle.”
“What happened to the guys on the ground? Did you hear anything from them?” Brad asked.
“I don’t know. We left for the rig seven days after the first attack, and we stopped getting reports from the airfield on day ten. Maybe they all got out.”
“Yeah, I’m sure they all got out,” Brad said slowly.
“Are we ever getting off of this platform, Army?”
“You know what, call me Brad, and yeah, I think we will. We didn’t last this long to die out at sea. Why don’t you get some rest, Chelsea? It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.”
“Okay. Brad? Thanks for listening, I appreciate it. Goodnight,” she said, placing the empty glass on the desk and walking from the room.
Brad drained the rest of his glass and left it on the desk next to Chelsea’s. He stood to stretch out the cramps and was surprised at the whiskey’s effect on him. His tolerance must have slipped quite a bit after all of those months in the desert. Taking his own advice, he picked up his weapons and gear, then made his way to the third floor sleeping quarters.
11.
The morning came with a brightness that Brad had forgotten existed in this part of the world. He had gotten used to the cool, long rainy days and cloudy skies. It was all they had seen since they’d arrived on the platform. Now the sun was shining brightly through his cell’s windows. The steel roof above him was radiating the heat.
He sat up in his bunk and rested his feet on the cool tile floor. The living cell he now occupied was far from luxurious, but it beat the hell out of anything he had stayed in since the first of the attacks. There wasn’t much to it; a large wardrobe locker and a desk sat on the wall opposite his tiny bunk. His gear was piled in front of him, taking up much of the floor space.
Brad heard a commotion in the hall. He stood, stretching and yawning, then pulled on a pair of MultiCam trousers before he opened the door and walked out. The men were moving about, strapping on their armor and prepping their weapons.
“What’s going on guys?” Brad asked.
“We're going outside. Chief said we’re going to take back the top deck. Good shit, right Sergeant?” Private Craig quickly answered.
Brad moved across the hall and into the lounge. He found Brooks drinking down a bottle of instant coffee.
“You have any more of that?”
“Sure, help yourself,” Brooks answered, sliding a couple of packets of the instant coffee across the table.
Brad twisted the cap off a bottle of water and emptied the packets in. Shaking the bottle, he watched the liquid change color. “So the guys tell me we’re moving outside today.”
“Yup. Chief wants the deck secured as soon as possible; with the sun shining bright it’s the best time to take advantage of the momentum we built last night.”
Brad took a swig of the bitter, barely warm coffee just as Sean walked in the door from downstairs.
“Good morning sunshine! I see someone decide to sleep in today,” Sean said, moving to take a seat at the table. “I assume Brooks filled you in on this morning’s mission?”
Brad nodded as he yawned and took another long sip from the bottle.
“You think you’re up to taking Swanson and a couple of the new guys out on your own? Brooks and I will pull the other two along. Probably best to leave the fly boys and civilians to hold the fort.”
“Works for me; better if we move as fire teams out on the deck anyhow. When do you want to get started?”
“Get your stuff together. We all meet below in fifteen.” Sean said, smiling.
Brad tossed his empty bottle into the trash can and moved back to his cell to prep his gear. The Marines were up, slapping each other on the backs and getting fired up for today’s operation. The bravado and camaraderie gave Brad flashbacks to a time before all of this shit—back to a time when he was running patrols with his own men. When Brad would get the pre-mission jitters and share in the excitement of going out.
Brad suited up and stepped into the hall just as the last of the men were making their way down the stairs. He found them assembled in the first floor lounge around the pool table. Sean had a fire emergency escape map of the platform laid out on the table. He had the three exits to the lower decks circled in red, and big X’s drawn through the doorways leading into the other two structures.
Sean looked across the table at Swanson and the group of Marines. “We’re going to sweep and clear the outside. Corporal, I want you to pick two of your Marines and join Sergeant Thompson,” Sean said.
“No problem, Chief,” she quickly replied back. “Wilson? You and Craig are with me.”
“Okay good. Captain, I want you and the civilians to hold this position. Nobody gets in or out while we are outside. Be ready to open the doors in a hurry.”
“Understood, Chief,” Bradley answered.
“Brooks and I will form the second fire team with you two then,” Sean said, pointing across at Walkens and Nelson, who nodded back in acknowledgement. “Gentleman, this is going to take a while but we’re not going to be rushed. Time is one thing we have plenty of.”
Sean broke down the rest of the plan to secure the third deck. They needed to first barricade the main stairway going down to the second deck. Then they would cut the remaining two ladders that led below to ensure that nothing could sneak up them. When they were sure that all ingress and egress routes were secured, they would work on clearing the final two structures.
“If everything goes as planned, maybe we’ll have lights and running water tonight,” Sean joked. “Let’s gear up and be ready to step out in five mikes.”
***
Brad was stacked against the exit door, looking at his team. “Let keep this simple, guys. Maintain eye contact with one another and cover your sectors. Don’t go pointing your weapons at your buddies. If we make contact, listen to the sound of my voice, I’ll tell you where I want you. Too easy, right?”
“Too easy, Sergeant, we got this,” Swanson answered for the others.
Brad looked up and nodded to Brooks, who unlocked the doors. Bill and Tony helped him push hard on the doors to ease the pile of broken and twisted bodies piled against it from the previous night’s battle. The right side opened just enough to allow the teams to exit. Brooks moved out with his team in tow and cut right; Brad, moving at the same time, took his team to the left.
Once outside, Brad moved just beyond the blind corner where he had been surprised by the giant primal days earlier and took a knee. The walkway was covered with corpses and the smell was horrible. They had been living with it for weeks now, so it didn’t hit him as hard as it had in the past. Swanson took a knee across from him, the two Marines just behind and facing in the opposite direction.
Sean’s team moved down the
walkway towards the helipad stairs. Brad waited for them to get to their location and set in position. He sent Swanson and Wilson forward and then followed behind with Craig. Each team moved in concert, leapfrogging each other so that at all times six of the eight fighters were covering while two moved. Moving slowly, they overlapped their sectors, bounding and covering each other’s movements, until they reached the storage deck.
Brad’s team was on line just off the walkway looking down the right side of the storage deck. Sean’s group had taken up positions to the left. The deck appeared clear other than some tossed-about crates and torn tarps flapping in the subtle ocean breeze. The sun was in full effect, heating everything up. Brad could see bodies lying on the ground in various states of decay, but so far there was no movement.
Brad looked to Sean, who pointed at his own shirt collar indicating he wanted Brad to move to his position. He told Swanson to take charge and keep her eyes on the surroundings, then ran at a low hunch to Sean’s position and took a knee.
“What’s up boss?” he asked.
“Okay, let’s clear this deck in line. Eyes on everyone at all times. It’s pretty hot and bright out here so I don’t suspect we have any hiders, but let’s not take any chances. If anything, we can at least work out the kinks with the new guys. You take the right side, we got left, don’t get in front of us, keep the firing lanes open, and we’ll meet at the stairway,” Sean whispered.
“Got it, Chief,” Brad answered and turned to return to his group.
Brad’s people moved slowly, clearing every corner and obstacle as they moved on line with each other. The deck held pallet after pallet of MREs, cases of water, ammunition, and fifty-gallon barrels of different assortments of fuel. Most of the heavy stacks appeared undamaged. The most they found was sheathes of ripped plastic, flapping from crates, that had probably been blown loose in the storm.
They stepped over downed bodies while taking note of the weapons on the ground. Slowly they navigated the piles until the stairway came into view. Pallets and crates had been hastily pushed in front of the stairs in a worthy, although unsuccessful, attempt to barricade the entrance. The stairs opened up to a double-wide mouth, reminding Brad of the entrances to a subway tunnel.
Brad’s group found cover to the right of the stairs just as Sean’s team was dropping into position on the left. Sean signaled for Brad to get eyes on the target while Brooks and one of his Marines crept forward toward the barricade. After several tense minutes, Brooks came to his feet and indicated the area was secure.
Brad brought his team forward and they moved to the stairs to gather near Sean. Sean quickly put them to work re-enforcing the barricade. The Marines dropped cases of spare parts and anything else they could lift into the stairwell until it was completely congested. It wouldn’t keep out a raging mob, but they also wouldn’t be able to break through without notice. Before moving on, Sean reached into his dump sack and handed Brad a handful of ties and some rubber wedges he had prepared earlier.
“We are going to move out along the walkway toward the support buildings, same as before. If you come up on any entrances to the buildings, don’t worry about clearing them. Just secure the doors as best you can, zip tie the latches, and pile shit against them or wedge these blocks into the doors. When the deck is secured we’ll begin moving into the structures,” Sean said.
Brad nodded his understanding and they moved out just as before. Brad’s team moved down the long walkway leading to the first of two support buildings. “That’s the power station,” Swanson whispered to Brad.
Brad just nodded in acknowledgement as they continued to move forward, covering Sean’s team’s movements as they covered his. Brad’s team was skirting the seaside railing while Sean’s team was looking into the platform on the other side of the walkway. Wilson raised his hand and pointed at the tip of a ladder that reached over the side of the platform from the lower deck.
Brad approached the ladder and looked down; he could see the empty deck below. He pulled a heavy wrench from his pack. The wrench fit the ladder bolts perfectly just as Tony had told them it would. With some heavy pulling and kicking, the first bolt broke its lock and started turning. They hadn’t ever seen a primal climb a vertical ladder, but he would sleep better knowing that the ladders were gone. After some heavy turning, all of the bolts had been removed and Brad kicked the ladder. It fell free and tumbled to the bottom deck with a loud clatter.
Brad waved Sean’s team forward and they moved to the power station where they found the doors hanging open. Brad peeked inside and could see the open engineering spaces. The one-story building’s large open bay appeared to be empty, so they closed the door and sealed it shut as best they could. Moving forward, they watched as Sean’s team removed the second ladder and secured the doors of the controls building.
They gathered in shade near the open walkway in front of the power station. Brad dropped to the ground and drank from a bottle. He guzzled it halfway down before tossing the other half to Sean, who finished it before sticking the empty in his pocket. It had only taken two hours to clear the deck, but those two hours in the sun had exhausted them.
Sean sent two of the Marines back to inform the others that the decks were clear and to begin the process of removing the dead. The rest of them would get to work on clearing the two remaining buildings. It had already been a long day, but it was far from over.
12.
The rest of the team stacked up on the door to the power station. Brad pulled the wedge from under the door, and at the count of three he yanked it open. They held a small firing line just outside the entrance, waiting for a rush of primals that never came. After some uncomfortable minutes, Brad moved in front of the doorway and cut inside, with Brooks close behind him.
They found themselves in a large, steel-clad building with one long open bay. The room was dark, hot, and stank of burnt oil and weld dust. There was a small workspace in the corner with an instrument panel and a bank of switches. The far wall was lined with huge generators. The opposing wall held a number of machines and tool and die equipment. Brad and Brooks carefully walked the room and searched the shadows.
“Room’s clear,” Brooks called out.
The rest of the team entered the building and began to look around. Sean went to the workspace and searched through piles of papers and engineering drawings, but found nothing useful. “Swanson, what do you need to get the lights back on?” he asked.
“I’ll need some help getting fuel drums swapped out, and then it should be as simple as kicking the gennies back up and bringing the breakers online. Bill and Tony would be a lot of help. They are the platform engineers, so this is their expertise.”
“Very well. Take Wilson and Craig back to the lounge and grab Bill and Tony. Let’s get this place powered up,” Sean said.
He walked outside and away from the building, followed by Brooks and Brad. They stood against the railing looking down at the sea. The seas were still choppy but the clouds had all but disappeared. Looking down, they could see that a number of the vessels that had been there earlier were now gone; they’d probably been destroyed from being smashed against the platform’s pylons in the storm, or came loose from their moorings and drifted away.
A large Pakistani-flagged fast attack craft and another smaller military ship still sat tied side by side below them. The smaller of the military ships showed a great deal of hull damage, but the other looked to be in good condition. Farther off, a large fishing boat sat, drifting away from the platform but still connected by a long length of stretched heavy rope. There was no sign of life on any of the ships; they looked dead in the water.
“What are your thoughts on the FAC?” Sean asked Brooks.
“Hmmm, looks like a MRTP-33. Hull looks okay from here, but I’d have to get in the water to really check it out. I don’t know; guess if we followed the coastline we’d be okay. We could always trade up later,” Brooks answered.
“You really thinking on driving
that thing eight thousand miles?” Brad asked, looking to Sean.
“Well, sailing actually. Those ships are pretty reliable; would make a good platform for raiding ports as we make our way home. Nothing says we can’t find a better method along the way, though.”
“Okay, but how the hell are we going to get all the way down there?” Brad asked.
“Guess we fight our way down,” Sean replied.
Tony and Bill came up behind the trio talking at the rail. Tony looked down at the ship. “Chief, I didn’t mean to listen in but we don’t have to take the lower decks at all.”
“How’s that, Tony? You care to explain?”
“Well shit, Chief, if you plan on taking that there boat, you would have to resupply it with the crane anyhow; I mean to lower down fuel and such. The crane and operator’s station are up here. I could drop you and your men right on top of that thing without ever going downstairs.”
“Son of a bitch, now that’s a good idea, Tony!”
“Yeah, you’d still have to get down there and secure it though—make sure none of them things are on board and keep them from jumping on it from the docks. I figure you could sneak on, untie it, and then attach it to one of the pylons farther out. That should keep them off ya.”
“That’s good thinking, Tony. How are we coming with the power?”
“Should be on shortly, Chief. The kids are bringing over more fuel right now, so guess I should get back over there.”
“Good work. And thanks, Tony. Let me know if you have any problems.”
Bill and Tony turned to walk away just as the Marines rounded the corner with a cart full of fuel drums headed to the power station.
“Let’s keep that in mind for a while. I figure it’s time to get back to work. We need to clear the control building before sunset … I don’t expect much trouble, the doors were swung open and the windows were broken out when I sealed it up earlier,” Sean said.
