Only the Dead Live Forever

by W. J. Lundy

  Brad was now in complete panic mode, scrambling to get out of reach of the creature, ignoring the pain, and fighting off the shock. With no room to maneuver the M4, he pulled his M9 and tried to get a good angle. Holding the pistol with a bent arm, he fired at the frenzied creature which was moving fast and jumping around the pile. Brad fired again, unsure if he hit it. He fired a third time and saw a portion of the creature’s jaw explode, but it continued to come at him, attacking the barricade from different directions. Brad pressed hard against the obstacles behind him, using his good leg to press back and create a dead space. He brought up the pistol, took careful aim, and finally put down the primal.

  The same gunshots that had killed his immediate threat also sounded the dinner bell for the crazies on the other side of the door. Brad forced his way through the pile, crawling and dragging himself toward the creature he had just killed to get to the inside of the room and out of the barricade. As he crawled, he looked back toward the door and saw the first of many hands grab at the battered wooden door.

  “Talk to me down there, I can’t see shit from up here!” Brooks yelled.

  Brad finally freed himself from the barricade and out of the cluster of garbage. He slipped, rolled to the hard floor, and then rolled back further, falling flat on his back onto a carpet. He looked around and saw more loose refuse and garbage. Brad struggled at his armor and finally located his flashlight. He quickly panned it around the void, relieved to find he was alone. The single primal must have occupied this hide out. It had probably been wounded somehow and turned here alone, or was abandoned here. Either way, it was not his problem.

  “I’m clear, but there are a lot of them trying to get in,” Brad yelled up to Brooks.

  Brad took a look at his leg; a large, broken piece of wood had entered the right side of his thigh, piercing through the top of his leg. It came clean through the top and there was no bleeding, so he hoped it missed the artery. There was no time for self-surgery, so he wrapped and stabilized the splinter as best he could with dressings made from his gear. Another pounding and a sound of ripping wood woke his thoughts again.

  Brad holstered the M9 and swung his suppressed M4 back into action. He watched the break in the door as creatures poured out. The barricade looked like hell, but it seemed to do the job. Everything that poured into it was quickly bogged down in the piles of broken furniture and garbage. At least five of them had breached the door and were piled into the mess now.

  Brad heard the blast of a twelve gauge shotgun come from above, then another crash and the sporadic sounds of suppressed small arms fire.

  “Hold on buddy, Alpha element is on its way down. They just breached the door,” Brooks shouted.

  “No, come on man, I can’t get out through that door. It’s blocked solid by the barricade,” Brad shouted back over the roaring of the primals.

  “Don’t worry about it, just keep yourself safe,” Brooks yelled.

  Brad raised the suppressed rifle to his shoulder and took an aimed shot. He struck one of the tangled creatures square in the top of the head. Slowly, Brad used his hands to right himself and to move farther back into the room against a far wall. He propped himself up and raised his rifle, killing another primal that was burrowing through the barricade. Brooks kept calling down, telling him to hold tight. Alpha was in the hallway and would be on him shortly.

  There was a muffled explosion. Brad saw sparks from outside the destroyed door. The rest of the door was yanked back and off of its hinges. He heard the men outside shouting instructions, and a light shone into the pile. The last three primals were quickly put down. Brad tried to stand; he struggled but made it to his feet. He looked into the blinding light.

  “You okay in there, bro?” he heard the elder Villegas call out to him.

  “I’m good, but I can’t get out that way.”

  “Okay bro, get away from that wall. We fixing to make a new door,” Daniel answered.

  The men left their position outside of the door. Brad heard more gunfire and the shouting of soldiers. Soon there was a pounding at the wall, followed by a muffled yell warning him to get away. There was a loud yell down the hall of “Fire in the hole” just as the room exploded and a sharp crack cut Brad’s hearing. He couldn’t see anything; the room was a cloud of dust and debris, and his ears were ringing. Brad struggled again to stand as the men rushed the room and grabbed him.

  Quickly they dragged him through the breached wall. Two men carried Brad, two more cleared the way out front, and another two took up the rear. They passed through a cluttered apartment and into a trashed hallway. They moved quickly up and over dead primals. They found the stairway, turned the corner, and the lead men stopped to cover the stairs that led down while the men carrying Brad moved him back up to the roof. Brad was moved several feet from the door just as everyone came onto the roof and the door was secured.

  Brad was carefully placed on his back near the wall’s skirt. Quickly, Brooks cut Brad’s uniform away from the wound. He reached in his aid bag; finding what he was looking for, he went to stick Brad. “No … Don’t. There’s no casualty evacuation coming for me, I have to stay sharp,” Brad said.

  Brooks gave Brad a worried look and shook his head, “I don’t think you have a choice, Brad. I can’t fix this. Unless you go back on the return chopper, you won’t get any treatment,” Brooks said.

  Chelsea came forward and kneeled near Brad. “Let him give you the morphine. The helicopter will be back and they can treat you. We can secure the roof until then,” she said.

  Brad looked up at Sean. “Tell them.”

  Gunner stepped forward. He told them about the egress plan; the move to the airport. How they had all needed to be gone when the CH-53 returned for the pickup. Yes, there was an option to stay behind and return on the bird, but he hoped they would choose to attempt the airfield. They needed to make a decision, and quick.

  “Brooks, my leg isn’t broken. Pull this shit out and wrap it tight. I’ll make it with you guys or die trying,” Brad said. “You can leave my gear, I don’t care, but I’m not going back.”

  Brooks looked to Gunner and Sean for an answer. “Get started on the ropes to rappel down. Secure us a vehicle on the ground. I didn’t feel like walking anyhow. We can still do this. Brooks, get him patched up; we’ll come for you when it’s time to move out,” Gunner said.

  The men jumped to their feet, moving back to the wall and preparing ropes. Sean came to Brad’s side. “Brooks is going to work with you; don’t worry, we will get you out of here, Brad. Chelsea, stay and help Brooks, I’m going with your guys to grab us some wheels.”

  Brooks put the morphine injector back in his pack and pulled out a Fentanyl lollipop. “Here, put this in your mouth. I’ll pull that out of your leg but I’m not doing it to you cold.”

  Brad nodded and opened his mouth as Brooks put the medicated stick on his tongue and swabbed the inside of Brad’s mouth. Soon Brad began to feel his pain numb. Brooks ordered Chelsea to try and hold Brad down as best she could while he worked on his leg. Brooks rolled Brad onto his stomach and Chelsea knelt across Brad’s right hip. Brad could feel the weight and he felt Brooks pull on his right knee to straighten his leg.

  There was a searing pain as Brooks tugged and pulled the large splinter out. “Good news! Looks like it just went through your quad. Surprisingly looks pretty clean,” Brooks said as he doused the wound with water and a peroxide solution. Then he quickly covered both sides of the wound with quick-clot bandages and tightly wrapped it with clean dressings. When he was finished, he pulled as much of the uniform pants back over the wound as possible and then wrapped it again with a small roll of electrical tape.

  “This is temporary, Brad. I’m going to have to open it up and clean it as soon as possible. I need you to start taking these right away,” Brooks said, handing Brad a small bottle of antibiotics. “Keep that lollipop handy; you’re going to be in a lot of pain. I still have the morphine stick if you want it later,” Brooks
finished.

  “I’m good; just let me catch my breath. I’ll be ready to go when they give the word,” Brad said, sweating and grimacing in pain.

  They carried Brad closer to the building’s wall while they lowered their gear below. Brooks helped Chelsea onto the ropes and she slowly rappelled herself to the ground. Next, Brooks positioned Brad into an under-the-shoulder harness, strapped him in, and lowered him down. Brad landed with his good leg and dropped onto a sunbaked sidewalk next to the building. Brooks dropped beside him and undid the harness.

  The city was empty and void of movement. The sidewalk and road were empty except for the strewn garbage piled at the corners of the streets. Brad leaned against the hot wall, shielding his eyes from the sun. He fished through his pockets and found his tinted goggles – he must have lost his glasses in the fall. Brad put them on to shield his eyes from the bright sun. He could see members of the Alpha element positioned down both sides of the street. Farther down, he could see more men gathered around an abandoned vehicle. It looked like a Volkswagen van from the front. There was a small four-door cab in the front, with a small pickup truck-type bed in the back.

  They had pushed the van out and away from the curb. The Marines had the hood open and were leaning over the engine compartment. Brad watched as Sean jumped in the cab and barked instructions. The Marines got behind the vehicle and pushed it. Sean popped the clutch, the vehicle stuttered and coughed, then backfired loudly before dying. The Marines ran back to the vehicle and tried again.

  The Alpha element was nervously scanning the surroundings, knowing the noise would attract the screamers. Again the van stuttered, but this time it coughed to life. Sean eased in the clutch and revved the engine until he achieved an idle. Sean slowly nursed the van down the narrow street on badly bald tires, while the Marines followed behind him at a jog to keep up. The van pulled up near Brad and rested against the curb.

  Sean shouted instructions from the window. Everyone gathered their gear and threw it into the back of the van. They lifted Brad and placed him in the bed atop all of the gear. Brad crawled so that his back was against the cab of the van and positioned his rifle so that he could cover his side of the vehicle. They dropped the tailgate on the truck and piled in, grabbing onto the sides while the remaining four jumped in the cab. There were thirteen of them packed into a vehicle made for half of that.

  Brad’s pain had greatly subsided, so he took the lollipop from his mouth and placed it into his breast pocket for safe keeping. He could still feel the pressure and tightness in his leg even though the pain had been numbed. He tried straightening and bending his leg in the confined space, and was able to do it with minimal discomfort. He could feel the tightening of the tissue and was careful not to put too much pressure on the wound.

  Brad watched Specialist Theo load his M203 grenade launcher with a 40-millimeter grenade. He aimed high into the sky and popped the round out and into the distance. There was a thump from the 203 as it landed some three hundred meters away before the sharp explosion. Theo loaded another round and again aimed out and over a neighboring building. Another thump was followed by a distant blast. “What the hell is he shooting at?” Brad asked.

  Corporal Parker looked at Brad as the van began to drive up the street toward the airport. “He’s not shooting at anything, Sergeant. We found out a while ago that the forty mike-mikes are more useful at drawing the primals away then they are at fighting them. So whenever we need to make a move in Indian country, we lob a couple off in the distance to get them headed in the wrong direction.”

  “We use flares,” Brad joked.

  “What the fuck? Y’all is crazy, we don’t mess with them at night,” Parker answered.

  The van’s engine smoothed out as it warmed up and picked up speed. Sean guided it down the middle of the street, only slowing to avoid vehicles or obstacles on the road. They made their way through the heaviest parts of the city, only spotting an occasional primal in the distance. The CH-53 false insertions combined with the M203 distraction must have been successful in leading them away.

  Charlie Group quickly reached the outer perimeter of the airport. Instead of driving around and looking for an entrance, Sean pulled up alongside a high chain link fence. A number of men jumped from the vehicle and began quickly cutting a gap in the fence. They pulled a section back, allowing the van to ease through. The men hastily repaired the gap before re-boarding the van. Sean gunned the van and headed toward the runway.

  The runway was scattered with small aircraft. Brad saw several burnt-out hulls of large aircraft, probably abandoned airlines. Some military-type jet aircraft were also on the ground, the frames sticking out like rotting skeletons. They slowly drove down the runways and tarmacs, looking for the best choice. Finally, Sean pulled up to a fat, four-prop plane with Arabic words written on the sides. It was painted in a blue and white pattern. Sean pulled up close to the side, staying away from the wings, and left the van’s engine running.

  The plane reminded Brad of a C-130, but the nose didn’t look right, and it was painted in civilian markings. The wheels and gear looked the same as a military heavy-lift plane, at least the kind Brad was accustomed to, but everything else was different. The plane sat alone on the edge of the tarmac with its cargo ramp down and support vehicles surrounding it. The crew door was swinging open above the wheeled portable walkway.

  “What the hell kind of plane is this?” Nelson asked wearily.

  Brooks jumped from the bed of the van before turning to help Brad out. “It’s an Antonov AN-12, old Russian bird. They are pretty solid though, decent range. Nice choice if it’ll fire up.”

  Kelli, their designated pilot, who had been riding in the cab and pointing out aircraft to Sean, quickly moved to the side of the aircraft and began an inspection. The rest of the men fanned out and began to set up a perimeter. “I think we are in luck, check this out,” Kelli yelled from the back of the Antonov.

  A large fuel truck was parked near the aircrafts’ open rear ramp, and fuel hoses were still attached to the aircraft. A large yellow power unit was parked under the nose with cables running to the aircraft. Brad took his hand off of the side of the van and slowly limped toward the aircraft. He could see bodies scattered around the rear of the plane. “They must have been preparing to get out of Dodge when they were attacked,” Kelli said.

  Gunner looked at the bodies and scanned the horizon. “Certainly looks that way. Everyone stay sharp; I’m sure they are tucked into the shade, but they are here,” Gunner warned. “Villegas, take a couple of men and clear the aircraft, try not to shoot it up too bad either, okay?”

  The Villegas brothers nodded in response and ran up the portable walkway. Sean exited the van and went to the rear of the Antonov where Brad and Kelli had gathered. “Kelli, can you fly this?”

  “I don’t think it will be much of a problem. Obviously I don’t have cert for it, but what the hell, right? I’m sure I can get it in the air, landing will suck though.”

  “How far can we go in this?”

  “With the tanks topped off we can make Europe. I’m most familiar with the bases in Italy, so I’d like to plan for that.”

  “I’m giving you my team of wrenches, use them to get this thing off the ground, and train them to be your flight crew,” Sean said.

  “Roger that, Chief.”

  Brad went back to the van. He could see Kelli taking charge of Chelsea and the other Marines. She had them moving about smartly. Nelson headed to the power cart and began trying to get it operational. Villegas popped his head out of the crew entrance and announced that the plane was clear. Brooks ran to join Corporal Parker, who had slung his SAW over his back. Together they started transferring bags from the van to the cargo bay of the AN-12, being careful to make sure everything was properly secured.

  Gunner and Sean were gathered near Brad looking over maps when Kelli reported to them. “Looks like the tanks are heavy with fuel. They were definitely prepping the aircraft for depart
ure when it went down. Everything is set for takeoff. That is if your guy can get the power cart go–.” The roar of a small engine cut her off midsentence as Nelson started the generator on the power cart.

  “That settles that; I just need to make my way to the cockpit. We’ll be ready to go in another twenty minutes,” Kelli said.

  “Okay, let’s hustle. The CH-53 is due for pick up in less than an hour … I’d like to be gone by then,” Gunner said.

  “What happens when we aren’t there? Will they look for us? I don’t want people to get hurt trying to find us,” Brad asked.

  “No, that won’t happen. The CH-53 will loiter in the area as long as they have fuel. After that, they’ll return to base. They have a no search and rescue order. They figure if a mob was big enough to take out a group, then it’s too dangerous for a rescue,” Gunner answered.

  Brad squinted. “Damn, that’s really messed up.”

  “Yes it is, but it works to our advantage today. How’s that leg? Can you manage to get your ass on board? Or does somebody need to carry you?” Gunner said.

  “I’ll manage,” Brad replied.

  As Brad turned to hobble toward the aircraft’s cargo ramp, they heard the sounds of suppressed gunfire. “Several contacts; north terminal!” Hahn yelled from the far side of the aircraft.

  Sean stopped what he was doing and ran toward Hahn with his rifle in hand. Gunner grabbed the bags and started helping with the cargo transfer. “Lieutenant, we don’t have twenty minutes, we need to go now!”

  Brad stopped and grabbed the last bag from the back of the van. He sucked up the pain and half-jogged to the rear ramp. He tossed the bag into the aircraft and dropped into a prone position across the back of the ramp with his rifle. He could sense the commotion behind him as the others prepared the aircraft for takeoff. Brad pulled the remainder of the painkilling lollipop from his pocket and put it in his mouth. He adjusted his weight to his left side and relaxed into the optics of his rifle as the first wave of primals rounded a corner and came into view.