Rawlings seemed unimpressed. “Huh.”
McDaniels moved on. “Anyway, I wanted to sketch out the force arrangement and go over some missions. I see the SEALs brought their DPVs with them, so let’s put them to use. Rawlings, I’m envisioning your folks being the distance maneuver element out front, since you’ve got great mobility assets at your disposal. You can keep eyes out and let us know when the stenches start moving in our direction. I realize you can’t be everywhere at once, so I want to backfill you with some Special Forces. Switch, we’ve got three SR teams in the mix, right?” SR was the abbreviation for Special Reconnaissance, a mission all Alpha Detachments were skilled in, but McDaniels could tell from the team designations that some were specialized in that specific operational art.
“We do. Zero-Three-Four, Zero-Nine-Four, and Zero-Seven-Four are the recon guys. Manned up with bikes and four-wheelers.”
“Good. I want you and Rawlings to get them interoperable. You guys can work on that?”
Both Switchblade and Rawlings nodded.
“The rest of the ODAs will also spend most of their time outside the wire, but in a more civilized manner. They should keep eyes on Odessa, and watch for any signs of infestation. It might be worthwhile if they were to get synched up with local law enforcement so they can keep us briefed on what’s going down in the city. And obviously, if any zeds pop up that the locals can’t control, they should zero them right away. An ounce of prevention and all of that.”
“Good copy on that, sir,” Switch said.
“Since we’ve got more Rangers than anything else, we’ll keep your guys close at hand, Colonel Haley. They’ll be the internal security reaction team, but one platoon should rotate outside the wire and orient to our south. That way, if the stenches do wind up pressing north from San Antonio, they won’t be able to sneak up on us all that easily. We’ll have UAVs overhead, but they can’t be everywhere all the time, so we’ll need some mark one eyeballs out there, just in case.”
“Roger that,” Haley said. “You want to keep the mortar team inside the wire?”
McDaniels nodded. “Oh, yeah. Unless there’s a reason to extend them?”
Haley shook his head. “None that would make any sense. We’ll probably want them to set up someplace clear, and someplace where the helicopters won’t be flying around. It would be a bad thing to bring down one of our own aircraft.”
“I’m sure we can get that squared away. If nothing else—” McDaniels patted his iPad. “—I’m pretty sure we can use these things to read the relevant field manuals.”
“Yeah, we’ll probably need that,” Hayley said, without an ounce of humor.
“So the nuts and bolts deployment is this: SEALs in what I call long-range security response; Special Forces and one platoon of Rangers as external security response; the rest of the Rangers as internal security response, along with whatever assets come our way. Lieutenant Colonel Haley will be the QRF XO, and if something happens to me, he will have full operational control over all elements. Commander Rawlings will be next in the order of accession. Rawlings, issues?”
“None,” Rawlings said.
Something in the SEAL’s voice rubbed McDaniels the wrong way. “Not hearing a lot of conviction in your voice, Navy. I’ll ask again, issues?”
Rawlings looked McDaniels square in the eye. “And I’ll say it again, Colonel. None. If I have any problems with what’s going down, I’ll let you know directly.”
“Fair enough. I’ll need an inventory of all consumables that each team feels will be high priority for resupply. Presume SPARTA will be cut off from the normal supply chains in three days. So anything you need, we need to push out the requests within the next twenty-four hours or so. Everyone should huddle with their senior officers and noncoms and figure out what it is they’ll need. And I’m not just talking weapons and ammunition. We’ll have a medical facility up soon, but presume that we can’t rely on it full-time. So with that in mind, consider what medical supplies you’ll need. Additional food, water, spares, fuel, etcetera, etcetera.”
“Hell, just triple everything we already have,” Switch said.
“I’d make it ten times as much,” Gartrell added. “If the stenches show up in force, we’ll run out of everything faster than you could believe.”
“And given that we could find ourselves in the middle of two approaching elements, don’t be shy when it comes time to asking for more of everything,” McDaniels said. “We can probably count on something going down in Odessa, and the possibility of a good-sized contingent of the dead making their way to us from the south is pretty good right now.”
“Going back to what you said about the ODAs camping out in Odessa, I think it would make sense to touch base with local law enforcement first, and then stay undercover,” Switchblade said. “People start seeing uniforms with weapons inside the city, things might get a little uncomfortable for our guys. I realize no one in the city is the enemy, but I don’t know if we want to openly advertise our presence.”
“So what’s your recommendation, Switch?”
“Plainclothes and civilian transportation. Or we have one or two of our guys serve as liaison with the cops, and the rest of the detachments hang tough outside of town.”
“We’ll actually have staff working in the liaison capacity,” Jaworski said. “That’s already in the works. It seems to me that having troops as specialized as Green Berets tied up looking over the shoulders of the police might not be the most efficient way to use them.”
“That’s actually part of what we train for,” McDaniels said. “It’s not all direct action and special reconnaissance for us. We actually do have some capability to interface with civilian and other government agencies to support our mission.”
“Okay, but do you think this is how we should play this? If so, I have to agree with Major Lewis about keeping a low profile. I don’t have my fingers on the pulse of the situation just yet, but I’d imagine the civilians are going to be getting pretty nervous right about now.” As Jaworski spoke, there was a small rustle on the far side of the TOC. Jaworski glanced that way, and Captain Chase stepped away from the group. McDaniels heard him make some inquiries into what was going down.
Switchblade started to say something, but McDaniels held up his hand. “Hold that thought, Switch.”
Chase came back quickly and looked at Jaworski. “Zeds in Odessa, sir. Police are going to guns on them. We don’t have the details, but it looks like it started in some sort of housing project.”
“Find out where and reach out to the police to see if they need our assistance,” Jaworski said. “They’re aware of our presence down here, but they might not know they can resource us in the event of unusual circumstances—like a bunch of flesh-eating zombies appearing in the middle of town.”
“Yes, sir.” Chase turned away from the conference area.
“Commander Rawlings, looks like you’re up,” McDaniels said. “Short notice, but I’m sure you have an element ready to go?”
Rawlings nodded. “One six-man team is already stood up. Give us a position, and we’ll go straight there.”
McDaniels turned to Major Carmody and CW4 Billingsly. “Aviation? I’m thinking we could use a couple of MH-6s right about now.”
“You got it, Colonel,” Carmody replied, while Billingsly and the Night Stalkers’ senior NCO, a master sergeant McDaniels hadn’t been introduced to, headed for the door. Rawlings’s senior petty officer followed them.
“Hey, guys, no need to consult me or anything,” Jaworski said. He gave McDaniels a quirky smile.
“Sorry, sir, didn’t mean to get that far ahead of you. You want us to dial it back?” McDaniels asked.
“Negative on that, Colonel. I apologize. I didn’t mean to indicate anything other than approval—lame attempt at humor on my part. This is your regime. You’re good to go.”
“Understood, sir.” McDaniels picked up his iPad and got to his feet. “All right, let’s end the meeting here
for now. As would be expected, officers will present problems and issues to me, while the enlisted men will be represented by Command Sergeant Major Gartrell. We’ll reconvene once the SEALs are back inside the wire. As of now, Hercules is officially active. Let’s manage the engagement as best as we’re able.”
13
The two MH-6 Little Bird helicopters sprinted toward Odessa through the afternoon sunlight, their skids no more than thirty feet above the flat desert landscape. Four SEALs were strapped to the pods mounted on either of the helicopters, two men per side. The SEALs were fully manned up, outfitted for close-quarters combat with body armor, Heckler and Koch MP-7s as their primary weapons, and SIG Mk24 9 millimeter pistols as secondary weapons. One man in each element also carried an “Old Faithful,” a meticulously maintained M4 carbine, a descendant of the ubiquitous, Vietnam-era M16 assault rifle. As each man was exposed to the elements—there was no protection to keep the SEALs comfortable during the ten-minute flight—they wore dust goggles to protect their eyes from dust and other hazards that might be encountered while flying to their designated area of operations. The most likely cause for significant eye damage during flight would come from insects; dust thrown up by the whirling rotors upon landing would be the second.
The unarmed MH-6 helicopters were escorted by two fully armed AH-6M Little Birds, each flown by two pilots and outfitted with two M134 miniguns capable of firing 7.62 millimeter bullets at a rate of over four thousand rounds per second. The attack aircraft also carried two cylindrical pods loaded with nine 2.75-inch rockets; the tip of each rocket carried a ten-pound warhead packed with high explosives. While the AH-6 team was unlikely to be resourced during the hop, they would nevertheless establish a combat air position over the engagement area by orbiting at an altitude of three hundred feet. From there, they would stand ready to provide close air support if things went to hell.
The four aircraft climbed higher into the sky as they approached the city of Odessa. In a usual penetration of non-permissive airspace, the Little Birds would have maintained nap-of-the-earth flight, rising and falling with the contours of the terrain. In the current circumstances, such operational stealth was not required. The local police were expecting the SEALs to be delivered by helicopter, and the zombies—if there were any—wouldn’t likely be aware of how the SEALs were conveyed to the scene. The leader of the SEAL element—a petty officer third class, call sign Alcatraz 16—reported their progress through his personal comms gear to the SEAL command and control element back at SPARTA. When the helicopters drew nearer, the SEAL’s reports became more frequent as he relayed more essential information, such as the number of police squad cars that surrounded a block of low-lying tenement buildings. At least ten police officers crouched behind the vehicles, sidearms and assault rifles drawn. One figure lay sprawled on the walkway leading to a shabby apartment building. Black fluid leaked from its ravaged skull, stark against the off-white concrete. More figures shambled out of the apartment building, and the cops opened up on them. As the Little Birds made a pass over the area, the SEALs and Night Stalkers watched as the zombies jerked and stumbled against the fusillade, but they didn’t go down.
“Cadillac, this is Alcatraz One-Six. Local law enforcement is up against maybe a dozen stenches. Are we good to go for insertion? Over.”
The answer came back immediately. “Alcatraz One-Six, Cadillac Six. You are go for insertion. Contact the lead on the ground, Sergeant Chavez, Odessa PD. Over.”
Alcatraz 16 glanced over his shoulder at the Army pilot sitting behind him. The pilot nodded curtly and brought the MH-6 into a sweeping turn to the right. Alcatraz 16 looked down and watched idly as the Odessa neighborhood seemed to spiral beneath his feet.
“Cadillac, Alcatraz One-Six. Roger.”
As the AH-6s climbed out and established their top cover pattern, the MH-6s descended to the street. They didn’t land, but established a low hover in expanding clouds of light dust, their landing skids only a foot above the concrete. The SEALs hit the quick-release latches on their harnesses and leapt off the external personnel pods. They ran directly away from the helicopters, two men on each side; behind them, the MH-6s cranked up the power and climbed back into the sky. They exited the pattern, leaving the SEALs under the watchful eyes of their attack brethren.
“Cadillac, Alcatraz is on the deck, over.”
“Roger, Alcatraz.”
Alcatraz 16 signaled the rest of the SEAL element to form up on him, and they advanced toward the melee at a dead run. Some civilians stood in front of their ramshackle houses, watching the police firing at the zombies emerging from the apartment building. When they saw the helicopters drop off the SEALs, most of them returned to their homes.
“Looking for Sergeant Chavez!” Alcatraz 16 shouted as he pounded toward the cops. “Where’s Chavez? Chavez!”
“Here!” a voice cried over the gunfire.
Alcatraz 16 turned and saw a frightened-looking police officer with a thick mustache and wide, dark eyes crouched behind a police cruiser. Chavez held a Glock in both hands and fired carefully at the approaching zombies. Despite his obvious fear, Chavez kept his cool and made his shots count. Every time the man pulled the trigger, a round hit a zombie in the head. The rest of the police weren’t as proficient. Most of their rounds slammed into the face of the apartment house, shattering windows and piercing wood.
Alcatraz 16 wondered how many people they were killing inside the building. “You guys mind if we take care of this for you? You mind if we take out the zeds?” Alcatraz 16 waved at the apartment building. “Your guys are spraying lead all over the place. You’re putting a lot of civilians at risk!”
“Ain’t no one left alive in there,” Chavez said. “But if you want to help out, go ahead.”
“Have your people stop firing! We’ll take it from here!”
It took a bit of yelling on Chavez’s part to get the police to stop shooting up the place, but when they did, the SEALs went to work. They took out the first zombies from behind cover, placing well-aimed shots into each ghoul’s right eye. The zombies fell to the dusty ground with great regularity, and within seconds, the immediate threat was neutralized. Alcatraz 16 counted fourteen bodies, including three children. All of them had been ravaged, as if they had been partially eaten. One woman was almost entirely disemboweled, and the stench of excrement filled the air.
Alcatraz 16 motioned the rest of his four-man element forward, while the second group held back and provided overwatch. As the SEALs advanced, the petty officer visually ensured each of the corpses on the ground had been hit in the head; he wanted no nasty surprises. He led his team to the apartment building’s front steps and peered through the shattered lobby windows. More shapes moved inside, and Alcatraz 16 was disgusted to see a clutch of corpses feasting on the remains of another human being. A decapitated head lay on the white tile floor in a puddle of drying blood. Its eyes moved, and its mouth opened and closed.
“Okay, check that out,” he said. “Everyone get a look at that. Even a severed head can still bite. Keep that in mind.”
The zombies inside the lobby slowly turned toward them.
“They know we’re here,” another SEAL said.
“It’s our voices,” another said. “The gunfire didn’t make them stop eating, but the sound of our voices gets their attention.”
“They’re predators, and like we’ve been told, they’re always hungry,” Alcatraz 16 replied. “Okay, let’s do ’em.”
Six shots took care of all six ghouls in the lobby. Alcatraz 16 preceded his element inside, and he took a moment to examine the severed head. Its dull eyes followed his movements, and its teeth clicked together as it opened and closed its mouth. It was trying to bite him, even though he was too far away and it couldn’t move. All the SEALs wore lightweight video cameras strapped to their helmets, and Alcatraz 16 made sure he got some footage of the head before he fired a round through it.
Alcatraz 16 gave his orders: they would canvas
the two-story apartment building, starting with the top floor and working their way downstairs. He dispatched one of the men to inform the police.
When the man returned, he reported the cops had been informed. “And SWAT just rolled up. They want us to pull out and let them take over.”
“And what did you say?”
“I told ’em they transferred OPCON to us, so they’re out of luck. They can take it back when we’re done.”
“Good man.”
“Ah, one thing…”
Alcatraz 16 turned back to the SEAL. “What’s that?”
“There’s a cop out there who’s been bitten.”
Alcatraz 16 thought about that for a moment. “Not our concern. Let’s execute.” Speaking over his throat microphone, he tried reported the mission status to Cadillac, but received only a garbled reply. The apartment building was interfering with the radio. He hailed their top cover. “Highball Two-Two, Alcatraz One-Six. We’re going to clear the building before we turn it back to civilian control. How long can you hold the high cap? Over.”
“Alcatraz, Highball. We’ve got legs for more than an hour. You need us to relay that to Hercules and Cadillac? Over.” The AH-6 flight lead was a high-ranking warrant officer Alcatraz 16 had known for years, and the sound of his friend’s Mississippi drawl over the radio was strangely comforting. Even if it was coming from just another Army puke.
“Roger that, Highball. Mighty helpful if you did. Over.”
“Will do, Razzmatazz,” the pilot replied, intentionally using Alcatraz 16’s nickname over the radio instead of the SEAL element call sign. “Happy hunting. We’ll keep an eye on the ground condition while you’re inside. Over.”
The Rising Horde, Volume One (Sequel to The Gathering Dead ) Page 17
