Tales of the Forgotten

by W. J. Lundy

  Sean signaled for Brad and Hasan to stay put as he and Brooks moved forward. Brad watched the two men silently slip ahead. When they were within ten feet of the primal they let their rifles hang from their tactical slings and drew their knives. Taking the last few steps, they dropped into fighter’s stances and stabbed the primals through the backs of the head in perfect timing. They caught the bodies, slowly lowered them to the ground, and made their way back to the team. Brooks gave them a thumbs up and continued toward the supply building.

  The supply warehouse sat at the end of the street where it dead ended— right at a large set of sliding doors that could be opened for trucks making deliveries. In the center of the sliding doors was a smaller steel entry door that currently was hanging open. The team moved slowly to the open entrance. Just feet from the door they all took a knee. Sean gave the signal for them to stack up and they quietly entered the open warehouse.

  Once inside, Sean stopped and turned back to quietly close the door; he then turned the bolt to lock it behind them. “I don’t want nothing sneaking up on us while we’re shopping,” Sean whispered.

  The supply building was really more of a large garage that had been subdivided by cages. The cages were filled with shelves and stocked heavily with supplies. They were hit with the smell of stinking bodies and human waste that always accompanied primals. The room was nearly blacked out, but Sean shook his head at Brad when he went for his flashlight. Instead, they pulled on their night vision goggles. Brad suddenly felt bad for Hasan, who was behind him and blind in the darkness. He grabbed the man’s hand and indicated for him to hold on to the back of his jacket. Brad made a mental note to find Hasan some goggles of his own.

  They crept into the warehouse, stopping frequently to listen. When they reached the first cage door, Brooks went to open it and found it latched from the inside. He let his rifle hang from its sling and gingerly reached far inside the cage. Stretching for the latch and twisting hard, he was just able to reach it. He tugged at the latch and heard the click as it unlocked, then pulled his arm back through the cage and opened the door. They all cringed when it gave a loud screech as it swung open.

  They froze in place and listened. After a moment there was a thump in the back of the cages and a primal came walking from around a large set of shelves. It was blinded in the blacked out room, and several times it bumped into the walls making more noise. Brad watched it in the green glow of his goggles. It was sniffing the air trying to find its prey, but the hunt didn’t last long. Once it got close enough for Sean to have a confident shot with his suppressed MK23, he killed it with a single round to the head. The thing teetered for a second then fell to the floor.

  They listened quietly. Brad hoped that the others couldn’t hear his heartbeat, and wondered how much worse it must be for Hasan with no night vision at all. They heard another tumble of objects and a second primal staggered around the corner. Sean waited and watched as it walked towards the first. Sean took another shot, dropping it to the ground. Before Brad could let out a sigh of relief, a third primal rounded the corner. This one was moving faster and tripped over the second downed primal before Sean could pull the trigger. The primal moaned when it hit the ground and twisted hard, trying to rise. Sean had to fire twice to connect with it. There then came a louder crash of boxes and objects from behind the shelves.

  “I think things are about to get difficult,” Brooks whispered as he signaled for them to back up, closing the cage door and pulling on it until he heard the click of the latch resetting. Brooks took another step back until he was online with Sean, then both of them holstered their suppressed MK23s, lifted their suppressed MP5s, and turned on the weapons lasers. Invisible to the naked eye, Brad saw the IR beam illuminate from the front of the submachine guns through his night vision goggles.

  There was another loud clattering of objects from behind the shelves, then the loud moan the primals used to announce the hunt. At first they came around the corner two at a time, then they seemed to all rush at once, fighting each other for a chance to be first to get at the men. As quickly as they came, the SEALs lined them up with the beam and with quick pulls of the trigger sent the primals tumbling to the ground. Soon there was a pile of bodies at the corner, and the others were falling and tripping trying to get to the team. Sean and Brooks made easy work of putting them all down. As suddenly as it had started, it was over, and again the supply building was quiet; at least was, until the pounding started at the door behind them.

  First it was a thud against the steel door, then another thud followed by the pounding, and finally, the frenzied banging and snarling that let the men know a mob had gathered outside. Brad turned to look and saw to his relief that the door was well built and holding. He looked to the right just as the thunderous pounding started to resonate from the large sliding cargo doors. They were rattling hard but were also holding. Brooks rose to his feet and walked to the doors to ensure they were bolted and tightly secured. He pulled out plastic chemical light sticks and began snapping and shaking them until they glowed a fluorescent yellow, then tossed them around the room. Hasan, relieved by the illumination, relaxed his grip on Brad’s back and stood upright.

  “What do we do now?” Hasan asked.

  “Well, looks like we have gotten ourselves into a bit of a predicament. Brooks, can you get to some high ground and see what we are dealing with outside? I’ll take these guys through the cage and verify it’s clear,” Sean said.

  “On it, Chief.” Brooks dropped his pack and made for a narrow ladder that led high into some storage spaces in the rafters. Sean looked back and spoke to Brad and Hasan, who were still standing in disbelief, looking like scared children.

  “You two ready for this? Let’s move through this mess.”

  “I’m ready,” Brad whispered back, his voice barely audible over the pounding and moaning outside.

  Sean reached through the cage door and undid the latch. He turned on the flashlight attached to his MP5 and Brad did the same, lighting the way. They now could clearly see the mess that was in front of them. Ten to twelve primal bodies lay twisted and contorted at the end of the narrow walkway and the corner to the storage area. Sean quietly walked past them, being careful to keep his feet far away from the pile, ever cautious that one might only be unconscious.

  They wound around the pile and turned the corner into the shelving area. The stench of body odor and human waste hit them hard. They all pulled out scarves and wrapped them tightly around their faces. Creeping down the narrow aisle, they made their way to a void in the storage area where they found tattered cardboard, clothing, and human hair.

  “Looks like we found us a primal nest,” whispered Sean. “This must be where they went to sleep during the day. The warehouse door was open … so there must be another way into this cage.”

  The area was a mess and covered with feces. “Careful not to get any of that on you, it may be contaminated,” Sean called out as they made their way through the void.

  Entering the storage shelves, Sean slung his rifle and reached onto a shelf to turn on a battery-powered lantern, illuminating the space with a soft white light.

  “There,” Brad said, pointing at a locked cabinet marked ‘Sensitive Items’.

  Sean looked at the locked door and pulled out a small jimmy bar he carried in his gear. Slamming the bar into the door, he pulled hard and the door flew open.

  “Jackpot!” he said, pointing to a stack of boxes of brand new satellite phones. “These are the same model as ours; even if they aren’t active we can use the batteries. Hopefully we can power ours up.” Sean ripped a box open and stuffed the phone and accessories into his pack; he then opened two more boxes to grab just the batteries out of them. He also found a set of night vision goggles and three boxes of batteries to go with them. He tossed the goggles to Hasan, who took them with a smile.

  They walked back past the shelves, making note of things they might need. “You know, it would almost be worth the convoy d
anger for the guys at the compound to come get all of this stuff,” said Brad.

  “Good idea, except this shop is in a bit of a bad neighborhood,” Sean quipped back.

  “Yeah, about that …” Brooks said as he dropped to the ground from the last rung of the ladder. “Looks like we’ll be here for a while. I made it to the rooftop skylight; we’re surrounded. I stopped counting at a hundred and fifty. But, from past experience, they get bored after a couple of days and go back to their nests.”

  “At least we are well provisioned,” noted Hasan. He pointed at stacked cases of bottles of water and MREs.

  The banging on the walls continued; it sounded like being in a small car in the middle of a hail storm. Occasionally it would let up, then the howl would sound and they would go back to the banging.

  “Let’s move these primal bodies out of the cage and against those sliding doors. Then we will pack up everything we want in the duffle bags and have them ready to go,” said Sean. “Bring a couple cases of those MREs and the water in here. We’re going to make all of our noise now and get it out of the way. I want everything packed and ready in the next thirty minutes. We’re going to settle in the cage and wait for these bastards to go home. As long as we don’t make any noise, they should get bored after a day or two.”

  Quickly the team dragged the primal bodies out of the cage and stacked them against the sliding doors. Brad searched the shelves, looking for what he thought he might need. Mostly he packed in MREs, but he also found a good multi tool and a couple of flashlights. He topped off his bag with a stack of first aid kits and some heavy leather work gloves. Brad moved back to the cleanest corner in the shelved-in area where the men had started settling in. Brooks moved back to the front of the building and verified the doors were secure before he pulled and locked the cage door behind them.

  The men sat as quiet as possible for hours, and the moaning continued. It wasn’t until late in the day that it finally began to die down. Even though the moaning had lessened, they could still hear the mass of them fumbling about outside the doors. Occasionally one of them would bang loudly against the steel door and wail in frustration. The team remained as silent as possible. When night came, they opened a box that contained some tarps and quietly spread them out on the floor to try to make the space more comfortable.

  Brad watched Sean dig though his pack and pull out a worn and battered Iridium satellite phone. He pushed the power button but got no joy. He laid the phone on the tarp in front of him. Next to it, he placed the stack of batteries he’d salvaged from the cabinet. He tried the power on the new phone and it came to life with a ding. It showed a 20% power symbol and when Sean held the phone to his ear they could all hear the ‘this phone is not active’ message. Sean quickly shut the phone off and removed the battery, then swapped it with the battery in his old phone. With the new battery now in place, Sean pressed the power button. They all saw the screen flash and the phone began to boot.

  Sean waited for the phone to finish and the ‘ready’ message appear on the LCD screen. He quickly entered the security password and unlocked the phone. All of the men sat up and watched intently as Sean cycled through the menu options. “So who do we call first?” Sean whispered. “How about we phone home in Kabul?” Sean pulled up the menu of stored phone numbers and cycled down. He found what he was looking for and pressed enter. The phone showed it was connected to the satellite and they heard the dialing and the ringing. It rang and rang until it received the automated message that the party they were calling was not available. So he tried Central Command in Bahrain, only to receive same message. Sean cycled through every number stored in the phone with the same result. Dejected, he tossed the phone to the tarp in front of him and sat back.

  “Mind if I give it a try?” Brad asked.

  “Have at it Brad, what’s mine is yours,” Sean replied.

  Brad picked up the phone, dialed his family’s number in Michigan, and pressed send. The phone dialed, connected, and began to ring on the other end. They all held their breath when a voice answered and Brad began to speak, but he was interrupted by an automated message:

  This is the Emergency Broadcast System. The broadcasters in your area, in voluntary cooperation with the FCC and other authorities, have activated the emergency broadcast system. This system is to keep you informed in the event of an emergency. This is not a test, repeat, this is not a test. This is an actual emergency. Martial law has been declared in the greater territories of the United States. A 24-hour curfew has been put into effect. Based on the answering parties’ area code you have been assigned to evacuation zone … Blue 30. Your rally point is the intersection of … Interstate 28 and US 41. Do not, repeat, do not attempt evacuation unless you are in immediate danger. Evacuation rally points will only be manned between the hours of noon and 2 p.m. Eastern Standard Time. Local law enforcement suggests rationing of food and water. Strongly encourage the avoidance of all non-family members. Do not leave your home unless you are attempting evacuation. Food drops will be made as soon as possible. Lethal force is authorized in defense of your dwelling or family members; local law enforcement cannot respond to calls for assistance. Tune to … AM channel 1500 for news and updates.

  As soon as the message finished, the call disconnected. Brad dialed the number again and intently listened to the broadcast a second time. He sat in silence for several minutes and listened to the primals outside milling about, banging into the sides of the building and occasionally letting loose with a moan. The sun had completely set now and there was no light coming in from the cracks in the steel roof. “What do you think, Sean?” Brad asked softly.

  “I don’t know. I mean, we went over the training scenarios before, you know for a U.S. invasion, but we never trained for anything like this. I would expect the martial law order, having people go into lock down; maybe it’s a good thing, bro? Keeps people off the streets, maybe limits infection and the spread. Let’s just keep hoping for the best till we hear otherwise, OK?” Sean answered.

  “You know what, I have a number I want to try,” Brooks said, reaching for the phone. He punched in a long number from memory … the phone connected and dialed. After a moment they heard an answering machine.

  “You have reached the coordinated voicemail message box; please leave your message after the beep.”

  “This is Team Member four zero two zero, team sierra oscar one, authentication number three six nine victor two seven, mission code zulu zulu.” Brooks finished speaking into the phone and ended the call.

  “What was that Brooks? Mind filling me in?” Sean queried.

  “Hmm … yeah … from another life; several years ago working with the agency in the Balkans they gave me that drop number. We used to call in our stats four times a day, some things just stick in your memory, ya know,” Brooks replied.

  “And mission code zulu zulu?” Sean asked.

  “Yeah, that means we are fucked, mission compromised, request immediate extraction. Hopefully they still monitor the box. I was told that it’s processed by a team at Langley.”

  “Well, good thinking either way. Let’s try to get some sleep while those things wander around out there, I’m sure we’ll have another long day of waiting tomorrow.”

  8.

  It was a long night; none of the men got much sleep. All through the evening they would be startled awake by a loud bang or the screeching of metal. Primals crashed against the steel walls and howled in frustration. Several times Brad woke from a dream, alarmed that the primals had breached the doors and were pouring through the cage walls, only to find them alone.

  Brad tried to get comfortable without making too much noise. He found it difficult and he cursed himself for leaving the lucky unfired Sigma pistol back in his rucksack. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. Tomorrow, he pledged to himself, he would find a place on his gear so he would always have it with him. He sat awake, staring at the sleeping men across from him, and wondered how the SEALs never had trouble passin
g out.

  Morning came with an uneasy silence; the pounding had stopped with the dawn, and it had been hours since they’d heard a moan. Sean sent Brooks back up the ladder to peek outside. In the meantime, they opened MREs and had a cold, silent breakfast. Sean quietly opened a case of water and passed out bottles to the others. After a while, Brooks returned and took his seat back against the cage door. “Most of them are gone, but there’s still about a half-dozen stubborn ones standing out there,” Brooks whispered while opening a chicken fajita MRE. “I would say we’re going to have to wait it out a bit longer; if we creep outside, one of them is sure to sound the alarm.”

  The men agreed and settled back into their rest spots to wait uncomfortably through the day. As morning passed, the temperature in the building went higher and higher. Soon it was over a hundred degrees inside and the heat, mixed with the stench of the dead primals and the mess that they had made in the void, made it a slow torture to sit there. Brad wrapped his scarf tightly around his head and tried to force himself to sleep to speed the time. He closed his eyes and began to dream about home.

  He was at his parents’ home sitting on the porch. The weather was perfect. Brad stepped off the porch into the fallen leaves and just stood there, enjoying the cool night air and the breeze on his face. His mother was at the flimsy screen door telling him to come back inside; his father told him it wasn’t safe on the porch anymore. Brad didn’t listen, the breeze comforted him. He had the Sigma pistol in his hand; he squeezed it, the grip cool against his palm. Brad liked the feel of the weapon. It was a heavy and full-framed pistol, built for war, and it made him feel safe holding it.