Z Plan (Book 2): Red Tides

by Lerma, Mikhail

  “Can everyone hear me?” he asked.

  After no one said otherwise he continued.

  “Good. Bravo and Charlie teams you’ll stay out here. Kill any of those fuckers that turn up, you hear me?” Blair asked.

  The groups answered with ‘Hooahs’ and ‘Oorahs’.

  “Alpha,” he pointed toward Cale, “Delta,” Blair pointed at another group, “and Echo will go and sweep the terminal.”

  Cale joined the group, shouting, “HOOAH!”

  “Alpha takes point,” ordered Blair.

  “Alpha team on me!” Cale shouted.

  He readied his rifle and double-timed it around the bodies to the opening, where he waited for his men to line up.

  He took point and led them into the building. Cale turned on the flashlight that was mounted to the side of his M4, and his men followed suit. The room they were in was full of metal walkways and scaffolding. Conveyers full of suitcases and bags ran in every direction. He looked for a door into the terminal, and along one of the walkways he spotted an undead leaning over the railing, about to fall to their level. Cale fired the shot quickly to ensure he’d put her down. Her legs flipped as she dove to the cement floor ten feet in front of them.

  “Stay alert,” he said to his team of six. “No doubt some of them are stuck in here.”

  Cale flashed his light down one of the pathways. Zach shielded his eyes from Cale’s light.

  “Fuck,” Cale whispered to himself.

  Zach had noticeably startled him.

  “What was that Sergeant?” Ballard asked.

  “Uh…nothing. We’re going up the stairs,” he informed his team.

  “Leading another team into the unknown I see,” stated Zach to his friend.

  “Shut up,” Cale hissed.

  “Sergeant?” Ballard looked concerned.

  “Nothing,” Cale lied, “Just keep moving.”

  “Hopefully no one gets killed this time,” jeered Zach.

  Cale ignored him, passing him on his way up the stairs, only to find him waiting at the top. In his head, he asked Zach to stop, to just go away. He was anxious about going in. He pushed past Zach once again and approached a door. The writing on it was in French, but he knew it was the one he was looking for. Below them, Delta and Echo cleared out the infected that had been caught in the equipment. Ballard flinched when they fired.

  “Easy,” Cale said to him, “I don’t want you shooting me in the back,” he joked.

  Ballard gave a nervous smile, and chuckled. Mounted on the wall next to the door was a keycard swipe. He motioned Ballard to come closer. He was a tall man with strawberry blonde hair and a caterpillar mustache. In his arms he carried a tactical shotgun.

  “Shoot out the hinges,” Cale ordered him.

  “Roger, Sergeant,” replied Ballard.

  The rest of the team moved out of the way as Ballard stood at an angle to the door to avoid ricochets. By the time he’d shot off all three hinges, Delta and Echo were waiting behind them. Cale positioned himself to the side of the door and waited for Ballard to kick it in.

  “Three…two…one,” Ballard counted down and kicked on one.

  Cale went in first, and right in front of him stood an infected woman. She had a delayed reaction to the door springing open, and Cale seized the opportunity to put her down. At this range the round blew her off her feet and threw her backwards. He then posted five steps straight through the door. Ballard was next, sweeping to the right along the wall, taking down an undead in his path. The rest of Alpha formed a perimeter around the door, and dealt with the few infected that had been attracted by the gunfire. Delta and Echo filed in behind them. SSG Curtis, the leader of Delta team, joined Cale at point, and SGT Kyle, leader of Echo, stood on Cale’s other side.

  “More spacious than I thought it would be,” stated Curtis.

  “We should probably switch to melee,” suggested Kyle.

  Cale and Kyle looked to SSG Curtis for an answer. Most of the undead in the terminal were locked behind security gates. Only a few of them were in the same area as they were.

  “Probably a good idea,” said Curtis. “We don’t want to accidentally shoot each other.”

  “Right,” Cale replied. “You heard him guys. Switch to your hand-to-hand.”

  Cale slung his weapon and pulled out Zach’s knife. Kyle was armed with a baseball bat, and Curtis had a fancy short sword. Cale laughed at the sword.

  “What?” asked Curtis. “I bet you wish you’d taken classes in metallurgy. Made this thing myself,” he added proudly.

  Cale couldn’t dispute the craftsmanship. It was a well-made weapon, and it had a better reach than his.

  “I’m a fan of old and reliable,” Kyle said, as he tapped his bat against his boot.

  The three squads stood before a door that read Employees Only, between gates seventeen and eighteen. Rows of empty seats, where the passengers would wait to board, flanked them on both sides. Because of the tinted terminal windows, the sunlight that filtered in appeared blue. Suitcases and carry-ons littered the area, and straight across from them was a food court with multiple restaurants. Most of the tables and chairs had been tipped over. A skylight provided sufficient light to the dining area.

  “Delta,” Curtis said to his team, “we’re going left.”

  SSG Curtis led Delta to the left toward the gates.

  “Alpha,” Cale took charge of his team, “right.”

  “We’ll hold down the fort here,” said SGT Kyle.

  “Save me something from the food court,” Cale joked.

  “Will do,” Kyle quipped back.

  Cale lead his group of six men to the right and around a row of chairs. He stopped to knife an infected that shambled toward them.

  “Nice,” Goebel praised him.

  “Alright. Let’s fan out a bit. Make sure we don’t miss any,” Cale said to his team.

  They all nodded in acknowledgement. Cale looked up at the sign showing the gate numbers. After gate twenty-three, L terminal would meet up with M terminal. He hoped that the security gate separating them was still standing. He could see past a few of the gates down the long hallway, but it curved at the end, cutting off his line of sight. Alpha formed a line and began their patrol, each of them taking a turn retching at the foul smelling air; the sun had really baked the undead within the terminal. “Is that an ear?” Zach pointed to a strip of skin on the floor.

  Cale shook his head in an effort to push Zach away. Ballard watched his squad leader.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah…yeah,” replied Cale. “It’s the air. I’m just light headed,” he lied.

  Zach shook his head in disapproval.

  “Let’s get going,” Cale suggested.

  The line continued its push through the terminal. Down the large corridor they could see infected clumsily navigating the obstacle course of luggage. Signs for the women’s and men’s restrooms were mounted on the wall.

  “Ballard, Goebel,” whispered Cale.

  “Sergeant?” one of them responded.

  “Take the women’s restroom,” he ordered. “Goebel, you take the men’s. And be careful in there.”

  “Roger,” replied Ballard.

  “The rest of us will remain here,” Cale informed his team.

  “You sure about this?” Zach asked.

  Cale ignored his hallucination. Ballard was the first to come out, only a few seconds later.

  “All clear in there,” he stated.

  A moment later Goebel emerged, “Empty, Sergeant.”

  “Right. Let’s go.” Cale lead his team toward the slowly growing mob further down the hall.

  They stopped where the hall opened up to the waiting areas for the next four gates. Dozens of undead wandered throughout the space but were grouped in pairs and trios.

  “Form a circle,” Cale demanded. “Keep it tight and don’t let them in.”

  Alpha established their perimeter and prepared for another bout with t
he undead. Moans bounced off the walls and assaulted them.

  “Shit,” whispered Zach. “That’s kind of spooky,” he added.

  Cale agreed, but didn’t react. Instead, he waited for the first of the infected to approach. A man, wearing a pilot’s uniform, with hands outstretched, lunged at Cale, who grabbed his arm and yanked him into the circle. Members of Alpha set to the task of destroying the creature’s brain. Cale turned and, looking for the next target, singled out the nearest one, pulling the same move. He was glad the undead were mindless. If they could actually think, they could adjust their tactics accordingly, and the living would be in for some trouble.

  After throwing another mindless reanimated corpse into the group to be terminated, Cale turned to face the next would-be attacker. He froze in place. It was a boy-child. He’d been about eight years old at the time of his death, and Cale immediately imagined Adam’s broken corpse crawling its way through the subterranean corridors below Tel-Aviv.

  “Cale!” Zach yelled.

  Cale snapped out of it just in time to be tripped up by an infected whose legs had been broken. He hadn’t seen her crawling toward him.

  “Shit!” Ballard said, as he sprang to Cale’s rescue, using his tomahawk to split the thing’s skull. Cale rolled off the suitcase he’d fallen onto just as the child pounced on him, his teeth gnashing wildly. Given the boy’s size, Cale easily pushed him off, but the boy quickly recovered. Cale narrowly escaped being bitten in the face. He imagined it was Adam, and his dead eyes pierced him.

  “Why?” Adam asked. “Why didn’t you save me?”

  “I…I,” Cale stuttered, “I’m so sorry.”

  Cale had no choice but to end the creature’s life.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered, as he stabbed the boy in the side of the skull.

  Goebel pulled the child’s corpse off his team leader.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” Cale said, hiding his tears.

  Goebel and Ballard each grabbed one of Cale’s arms and lifted him up.

  “That was close,” stated Ballard.

  “Let’s not do that again,” Goebel added.

  Cale silently agreed. He looked down at the child’s contorted body.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered again.

  Ballard patted him on the back. “They look like kids, but they aren’t anymore. He was one of them.”

  “Let’s form up and clear the rest of them out,” said Cale.

  “Right,” replied Goebel, as he took his place on the perimeter.

  “Man, you gotta get your shit together,” Zach whispered in Cale’s ear.

  “Shut it,” Cale hissed.

  He caught Ballard watching him, and played it off as he was talking to himself. An infected in a security uniform shambled up, and Cale utilized his original technique, throwing the man to the ground within the circle.

  “Make sure to get his gun,” added Cale.

  “Roger,” one of his team members replied.

  As the number of infected diminished, so did the volume of their cries. The soldiers had moved their circle of death a few times, leaving behind a mound of bodies each time. As the last of them was thrown to the ground, Cale looked back at the accumulation they’d left: men, women, and children. They hadn’t discriminated. All were destroyed with extreme prejudice.

  “Fan out and pick off any stragglers,” ordered Cale.

  Alpha team did as instructed and finished clearing the area. Cale looked out the terminal window at the planes that had been left unattended. From here he could see those who had remained behind to form the perimeter outside. He looked at each of the men but paused on one. Blair was waving his arms to get Cale’s attention. Cale waved back, and then Blair gave a thumbs up. He returned the gesture and went back to work.

  “Form up,” he said. “Wedge formation.”

  Each person fell into position for the movement and Cale himself took point. Traditionally, whoever was in charge would be at the center of the wedge behind the point man, but Cale feared getting someone else killed. He looked back to get a headcount: Goebel, Ballard, Johns, Frakes, Lorenz, and Ramsey. No one appeared to be injured, and Cale waved at them to move out.

  The area narrowed into a hallway again. Moving walkways sat motionless in the center of the hall, and Cale stepped onto a now still walkway. The corridor was dark and windowless, and the narrow beams of their flashlights barely lit the area.

  “Watch your step,” Cale whispered, as he moved around toppled suitcases.

  “Door,” Johns whispered.

  Cale turned to look. Johns had found a maintenance door. There was no handle on it; and could only be opened from the other side.

  “Leave it,” ordered Cale. “There’s nothing we can do with it.”

  As he turned back down the corridor, his light revealed a group of undead just a few feet away.

  “Fuck!” Cale said startled.

  He backpedalled, panning his light across the hallway. It was packed with infected, far too many of them.

  “Switch to the firearms!” shouted Cale, as he holstered his knife and raised his M4.

  The seven men fired at head height into the crowd, and the muzzle flashes strobed on and off over their attackers. Bloodied faces and rotted flesh reached out to them, their shadows appearing to dance on the wall as each man fired his weapon. Cale’s ears were ringing.

  “Reloading!” someone yelled out.

  “Me too!” another shouted.

  Cale waited a moment between shots. He knew he’d have to reload soon, but wanted to avoid having everyone reload at the same time. He fired two more shots, before the weapon’s bolt locked to the rear, signifying that his magazine was empty.

  “Reloading!” he shouted.

  After swapping his magazine, Cale raised his rifle to fire again. His barrel was just inches from the face of an undead when Cale pulled the trigger, but the only sound was a short click.

  “Help! Shit!” he shouted, as the creature pushed his weapon aside and stumbled into his space.

  Frakes, who was right next to Cale, shot the thing in the side of the head, saving Cale’s life.

  “Thanks,” Cale said, falling back to correct his weapon jam.

  By the time he had it fixed, however, the mob all lay on the floor, motionless. They waited to see if any more would appear around the curve in the hall.

  “Alpha,” Cale stated, “status reports.”

  “Orange on ammo,” Ballard replied.

  Orange meant he had half of his full combat load.

  “I’m red,” said Goebel.

  “Same here,” Frakes informed him.

  “Me too,” added Johns.

  Red meant they had only one-fourth their full combat load.

  “Black,” Lorenz stated.

  He was out of ammunition.

  “Orange,” reported Ramsey as he handed a mag to Lorenz.

  Cale handed Lorenz a mag as well, “Orange.”

  After spreading the ammo around, they continued down the hall. Around the curve they could see light filtering in. Shadows bounced along the wall as Cale approached the bend, and just a few feet away, undead bobbed back and forth, trying to find a way through the quarantine gate that had been hastily built. Shell casings and empty brass carpeted the floor, and rotted bodies were draped everywhere. There had been one hell of a fight that ultimately, the undead had won. An entire gate had been cordoned off, and infected paced back and forth like tigers on display at the zoo. Cale approached and began stabbing them through the bars. The walkway connecting the gate with the plane was open, and many undead made their way up to the terminal.

  “Forgotten undead passengers of Flight whatever,” said Zach.

  “What do you think?” Cale asked Ballard.

  Ballard looked at the infected crowding the hall through the quarantine gate. He grabbed the gate and gave it a shake. It swayed loosely.

  “We can’t let them near the gate,” he stated, “They�
��ll take it down.”

  Cale weighed the options. They didn’t have enough ammunition to deal with them all, but as he watched them slowly coming up the ramp an idea struck him.

  “Pull the gate back for a second,” he ordered Ballard.

  Ballard pulled it back, and Cale slipped through the narrow opening.

  “What are you doing?” Ballard was surprised.

  “Closing the door,” Cale smirked.

  He stepped over the cadavers on the floor and attempted to pull the door closed. It closed halfway, and then stopped.

  “Shit,” he cursed himself.

  “What is it, Sergeant?” asked Ballard.

  “It’s stuck,” said Cale.

  He gave it another yank, and couldn’t figure out what was wrong. The hungry growls grew closer while he surveyed the door for the problem.

  “You might want to hurry up,” suggested Zach.

  “I’m trying,” Cale replied.

  “They’re coming,” Zach observed.

  “I know,” Cale fired back, “shut up.”

  One of the undead had stumbled, and somehow found a jogging pace.

  “Fuck,” Cale said as he raised his rifle.

  He shot the creature in the chest, sending it sprawling back. Other rotting figures quickly climbed over their fallen comrade. Cale looked up at the mechanism that controlled how the door was propped open.

  “What the hell am I missing?” he asked angrily.

  Cale flinched when Ballard’s hand reached up and twisted a tiny nub on the cylinder. Air hissed out and the door swung in. Cale grabbed the handle and pulled it, just as the undead slammed into the other side. They beat and scratched at the door, but the sounds they made were muffled.

  “Thanks,” Cale said in between breaths.

  “Yeah,” Ballard replied shakily.

  They turned around in their cage, while the rest of Alpha watched them.

  “You don’t want to go in there,” joked Cale.

  The group of men chuckled. They worked together to open the gate far enough for Cale and Ballard to fit through. The stores and restaurants that lined the far wall were locked up with security gates pulled down. Other than a layer of dust, everything inside was neat and tidy. They’d clearly been closed before the quarantine was put into effect. All that was left to do was check and make sure that the doors between L and M were secured. Cale was confident they wouldn’t run in to any more infected, as the gunfire would have drawn them all out by now.