The Variant Mob
Behind them, the advancing horde broke out of the ravine next to the parking lot. The first of them was a giant beast. It hesitated, lifted its head into the air to gather the scents around it, then shot toward the loading dock. Its shock of red hair bounced as it outpaced the rest of the army of infected.
It arrived at the group’s last location and it dropped to its knees, sniffing the ground. It could smell his enemy. They were the ones that had nearly killed him a few days prior.
The humans and their dog had robbed him of his food. They had killed his children and his mates. He still burned with anger. He burned with hate. He burned with hunger. He screamed with a power that stopped those around him. He had just joined the group and already had killed several of their tribal leaders. He had hundreds following him now. You keep what you kill. That was the way it was. No one was more powerful than him. Soon, he would kill the remaining clan leaders and an entire army of his brothers would be following him. Obeying him. Worshiping him.
But right now, the enemy was within their grasp. The creature screamed and the followers responded. The mass began to run, following the stench of the humans and their cursed dog. The scent told the alpha that some of the humans were injured. They would be slow. It could taste their flesh already. The creature almost smiled at the thought of the coming feast. This time it would win, unlike before when it had met up with the human and his dog. This time there was an army of infected to contend with.
The minions howled as they rushed forward. They could smell their prey as well and could sense the power of their new leader.
The red-topped Variant stopped at the opening of the garage. It listened intently, but the echoes of the mass behind it prevented it from hearing their prey. It sniffed deeply. The smell from within was strong. Many human odors came from the car-packed space, but one scent stood out from the rest. The dog. That smell, it could follow.
It turned to the deformed followers. They stood silently, waiting for their orders. It sneered and barked. It turned into the darkness and screeched. They all followed, their own cries bouncing off the concrete walls. Their amplified screams reverberated throughout the multi-story building and could be heard over a mile away.
The prey would now know they were being followed. Red-top didn’t care. They were gaining on the humans and there was nothing their prey could do to keep from being consumed.
— 16 —
Carver
Scripps Medical Campus
I looked, and there before me was a pale-colored horse. The rider on the horse was death, and Hades was following close behind him. They were given… power to kill people with the sword, by starving, by disease and with the wild animals of the earth.
― Revelation 6:8
“What the hell was that?” Carver said. The cries of the Variants exploded from the garage they’d just passed through.
“This is Everly. Does anyone copy? Over.”
“This is Red One actual. Over.”
“Screw the call signs, John. You’ve got to move it. There are thousands of those things right behind you. I can slow them down, but you need to get to the rally point as quickly as you can.”
“How’s our path ahead?” Carver asked.
“The outside is clear, but who knows what’s hiding in the buildings. It can’t be as bad as what’s behind you. Just haul ass. I’m going to cover your rear.”
“Thanks, Everly. We’re moving. Out.” Carver turned to the group. “You heard the man. Double-time.” Carver then looked at his war dog. “Los!” he commanded.
Shrek bolted forward while the rest of the group jogged behind the Mal. They kept up with the speedy dog, although Keele struggled with his lower leg laceration. They only had a quarter of a mile to go, but Carver could feel the vibration in the air from the amplified screams echoing out of the parking structure. The size of the horde must be enormous.
They rapidly approached a dead end. A left, then a right, would bring them within eyesight of the helicopter pad.
Shrek stopped at the end of the street in front of a three-story brick building. He looked back to Carver. A silent nod and hand gesture sent the Mal to the left.
The screams from the horde suddenly spiked. They’d been seen. The team stopped and glanced back at the parking structure. The exit was thick with the infected. Their stilted, galloping gait was amazingly effective. The first wave exited the giant garage and came into view.
“Jesus. It’s Carrot Top!” Keele said, pointing to the giant creature leading the pack. “Doesn’t that thing ever die?”
The massive Variant was in front of about fifty of the creatures. They were already out from under the building. Behind this first wave, thousands of glowing eyes could be seen within the darkness of the parking garage. There were far too many to even try to count. The entire horde was sprinting directly toward them.
The Viper suddenly appeared overhead. It was flying low enough that the rotor wash created a tornado within the confines of the narrow road. Dirt and detritus swirled, momentarily blinding the group. A second later, a loud whoosh announced that another Hellfire had been unleashed. The missile’s flight was marked by a thick, white contrail. The warhead slammed into the wall outside of the second-floor deck, causing the façade to collapse onto the street, blocking off the exit and creating a large opening. A second missile followed, erupting within the confined space. A few heartbeats after that and the northern half of the structure collapsed, burying everything inside with thousands of tons of concrete and rebar.
The explosion created a cloud that billowed up the alleyway, obscuring the group’s view. There was no way to visually confirm that the horde had been destroyed, but the cries of the Variants had been silenced.
“Come on,” Carver said.
He led the Mal forward at a steady and more even pace. The threat behind them might be gone, but there was plenty to worry about ahead. Moving too fast could cause a mistake. Besides, Keele was starting to slow down, his bandage now saturated with blood. Carver would have to re-dress the wound once they were airborne.
The medical center’s plant building with its giant air conditioners appeared on their right. Carver could see the end of the structure where another road crossed in front of it. They should be able to see the helicopter pad from there.
“Just one more turn and we’re home,” he said to the Mal.
Shrek stared back at him with an understanding gaze.
They rounded the building. The parking deck appeared to their north. The Osprey hovered off in the distance, far enough away to not bring Variants into the parking structure but close enough to be on station in seconds.
Carver led them to the corner of the multi-level parking lot, where they gathered outside the closest stairwell entrance. Shrek became agitated, his hair standing and his posture stiff. The sounds of Variants moving around inside drifted out of the concrete structure.
Carver crawled around the support pillar and glanced inside. The main level was a disaster. A military checkpoint had been set up at the left/west wall where the main entrance to the hospital stood. It had been overrun. A couple HUMVEEs sat nearby, their doors open, and the interiors crusted with old, dried blood. Cars and trucks were stacked bumper to bumper, including several ambulances that had been abandoned. A three-car pileup at the far-right corner of that level complicated things. Two of the cars were jammed against the southeast stairwell door, blocking the stairs. To make matters worse, several Variants were roaming about at the north end of the deck, their grunts and chirps marking their location. Carver slid back to the group.
“This is the southwest corner stairwell. We’ll use this one since the southeast one is blocked,” Carver whispered. “There are a few Variants at the far end of this deck, so we need to move quietly. We’ll try the second level. If it’s clear, we’ll enter, then make a right turn. If not, we’ll go up one more flight and try again.”
Carver surveyed his team. They looked
as bad as he felt. Their day had started out crappy enough. They’d lost all three of the survivors they’d set out to rescue, followed by a crash that took the camp’s only co-pilot, along with their Seahawk. Now they were battling for their lives, with each man having some injury to nurse, while thousands of Variants were trying to make them their next meal. All of this before it was even lunchtime.
“Me and Shrek are on point. Shader, you and Keele are pulling up the rear.”
“The rear. Just the place for a guy named Porky,” Keele snickered.
Shader continued to crouch silently, ignoring the Marine’s joke. Keele’s smile slowly dropped with each passing second. It was never good when Shader went dark like that.
“Christ, Keele. Why don’t you learn to keep your mouth shut?” Gonzalez whispered. “He’s really pissed now.”
“Thank you, Gonzalez,” Shader whispered. “Unlike your friend there who doesn’t think before he speaks, I’d rather survive this mess than smack his ass. Seriously, Keele. Did you want me to react to your stupidity? Maybe that would attract the Variants. Use your brains.”
“Moron,” the little Marine said softly. Keele bowed his head and nodded. Gonzalez gently punched him on the shoulder.
“All right. Pay attention, you idiots,” Carver said quietly. “If we’re spotted, I want bounding overwatch with Shader and Keele as one fireteam. Me and Gonzalez will be the other. Set up cover at each pause. We’ll move that way into and up the stairs.
“Potoski, you and the pilot stay in the middle. If we hit a large group, I want you to light them up. The rest of us will hold flank and move as a group up to the top floor. Pairs move together,” he added. “Don’t leave your battle buddy. We do this right, and we’ll be eating lunch in an hour. Any questions?”
No one said a word.
“All right. G-man, grab the door and let me inside. Shrek and I will take us up one flight. If that’s clear, we move across the second deck to the southeast stairwell.”
Gonzalez nodded. “Copy that, Carver.”
“Gentlemen, I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. Let’s go home.”
The door to the stairwell would be their first major obstacle. It likely hadn’t been used since the infection took hold. Creaky hinges were a distinct possibility.
Carver radioed both Donaldson and Everly. They coordinated their movement and settled on ten minutes for the group to reach the helicopter pad, where the Osprey would be waiting for them. After checking their gear for the final time, the team began their ascent.
Gonzalez crept to the metal door, squatted down to gain cover from a nearby car, and quietly depressed the handle’s lever. It moved down with a distinct groan, followed by a loud click. He froze.
The chirps of the Variants stopped. They had been staring out from inside the structure, watching the Osprey and Viper hovering nearby. With the metal-on-metal screech of the handle’s gears, frustrated grunts began. After a minute, the Variants dropped back into their routine as the aircraft outside buzzed back and forth.
Gonzalez tugged gently, but the door wouldn’t move. It was wedged into the frame from months of disuse.
“This ain’t gonna be quiet,” Gonzalez murmured. “I need to pull pretty hard. It’s going to make a lot of noise.”
“Hold steady. Let’s see if we can make a distraction.” Carver quietly called Everly, who agreed to help them out. Then he checked his watch and signaled the group. “Twenty seconds and we move.”
They all counted down in their heads. At twenty, an enormous fireball erupted in a building north of their position. Everly had used one of his remaining Hellfire missiles, detonating a loud and spectacular distraction about a quarter of a mile away.
Carver lifted his head up and saw the Variants staring out of the garage, screaming and bouncing up and down. The structure Everly had hit was now collapsing. It was a very noisy death for whatever building he’d chosen.
“Go!” Carver hissed.
Gonzalez tugged and the door gave, its metal frame scraping on the floor as it unwedged itself.
Carver didn’t look back. Shrek shot forward and Carver directed him up the steps. The dog gave no signs of a nearby enemy. They made it to the next floor without incident.
The war dog team was at the second-level door, facing another metal barrier. The exit bar was depressible, but he had no idea what was on the other side.
Gonzalez soon joined him, having held the door open for the escaping team. “All good,” he said. “They didn’t even turn around.”
Carver was about to give Gonzalez the order to push through, when Shrek stiffened, then let out a low growl. They all stood quietly for several minutes, listening for clues or signs. Nothing was heard, but the Mal maintained its defensive stance.
“Might be a false-positive,” Gonzalez said quietly.
“Maybe. But why take the chance?” Carver looked down at his watch. “We’ve got five more minutes until the Osprey lands. Let’s keep going up.”
They moved silently to the third floor. Shrek’s posture told Carver that the level outside the door was clear. He nodded at Gonzalez, who pressed the bar down with his backside and pushed. As the door opened, he rolled into the space with his M4 up and ready.
The third-floor parking deck was packed with cars as well. Carver tactically walked into the space and scanned, staring through his rifle’s optics.
No movement.
He waved Potoski and the pilot out of the stairwell, followed by the first fireteam. Both Shader and Keele kept moving to the right toward the stairwell. They stopped next to a parked Lexus and waved. Potoski and the pilot followed while Carver and Gonzalez held their ground, providing cover.
They leapfrogged that way until they got to the southeast stairwell. Not a Variant was seen.
“Red Team. This is Osprey One. I am coming in. Will be on station in thirty seconds. Out.”
Carver, Shrek, and Gonzalez moved through the back of the garage and settled next to the door.
“One more floor!” Gonzalez whispered with a grin.
Carver waved the rest of the team over. He heard Gonzalez depress the lever on the handle and noticed his dog dip and growl at the door.
“No!” Carver hissed, trying to stop Gonzalez from opening the door.
It was too late.
— 17 —
Scripps Hospital Parking Deck
Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.
“Because I Could Not Stop for Death”
— Emily Dickinson
Carver didn’t know who was more surprised, Gonzalez or the Variant. The look on both their faces was identical as they each froze in shock after the Marine had flung open the door. Carver reacted first and shot the creature three times in the face. Unfortunately, he’d loaded his rifle with the high-velocity .300 Blackout rounds and his suppressor couldn’t keep the supersonic crack of the bullets silenced.
The result of the rifle’s discharge was both violent and instantaneous. Roars came from the bowels of the stairwell, followed by the crashing of bodies against each other. A tidal wave of the infected was rushing up the steps.
“Run!” Carver barked. “Go topside now!”
Carver rushed down half a level and raised his rifle over the railing, pointing down the shaft. He blindly unloaded his magazine as Shrek stood at his side, barking and snarling at the advancing mass.
Potoski joined Carver. He dropped down a few steps more, creating a direct line of fire at the monsters. His machine gun began spitting out rounds, with his bullets ripping flesh or deflecting off the walls and metal stairs. The dark stairwell lit up with the red light of the strontium-laced ammunition and the white sparks of lead striking concrete. To Carver, it looked like a stop-action film. Frames would appear sporadically, each displaying a new and slightly different image.
“Frag out!” Keele yelled.
Shader and Keele each dropped a grenade down the shaft. The roar of the guns and the screams of the Variants muted any sound of the explosive balls bouncing off the metal steps. A loud crump! echoed as the they detonated in the mass of flesh below. It momentarily stopped the rush.
“Go!” Carver told Potoski as the tide briefly subsided.
Carver unloaded a second magazine and began running up the stairs. Shrek kept pace, leaping the steps, two or three at a time. They passed Shader and Keele as the two men stood on the fourth-level landing. Carver made it to the top level and turned. He directed Gonzalez and Potoski to provide cover for the other fireteam.
“Changing mags!” Shader yelled.
“Go!” Keele yelled to his battle buddy. “I’ve got this.”
Shader strode up the stairs as he depressed the mag release button on his M4. He swapped the empty magazine for a fresh one.
At least, he tried.
As he ran, the rifle was swaying laterally in his hand as he placed the new mag in the well and hit the mag release button. That should have picked up a single round and put it into the barrel, but the lateral motion of the M4 threw two bullets into the magazine chamber instead. It created a double feed jam. His rifle was useless until he cleared it.
“Son of a bitch!” Shader yelled as he pulled back on the charging handle, trying to shake the two bullets loose from within.
Keele saw all this. He had to stand his ground and let Shader get his gun back in the fight. He stood next to the open fourth-floor door, stepping over the Variant Carver had killed. It was blocking the door from closing. He stumbled as he backed up, flinging his hand behind him to catch himself from falling. He recovered and began spraying .556 rounds at the now advancing wall of infected.
Extinction Survival Series (Book 3): Cost of Survival Page 14
