One last pull on the braking line flared the falling war dog team. He pulled a bit earlier than normal, hoping he had compensated properly for the additional weight. His downward movement came to a stop and he gently ran out his landing, grateful that his legs worked and there was no pain. He couldn’t have done it any better.
Carver released the parachute’s toggle, letting it flutter away. He dropped Shrek onto the tiles and brought his battle rifle around, scanning the roof. Shrek’s pose told him there was no immediate threat. He turned to find Shader. His friend should have joined him by now. It took a few seconds, but he found the SEAL coming in low and hot as a sudden gust of wind smacked into the older man. A white squall grabbed Shader’s parachute, causing him to rush toward the building. For his part, Shader fought against the movement as he toggled his control lines, trying to manage his descent. For a moment, Carver thought his friend would slam into the side of the Casino.
Shader tugged on his steering line and did a braking maneuver that lifted him enough to clear the edge of the roof. He dropped his ruck, but his forward speed was too fast, and he fell, dragged across the tiles by the sudden gust of wind.
Shader shot past Carver before releasing one of the toggles. The chute collapsed on one side but continued to billow, pulling Shader toward the edge. Carver sprinted toward his friend, trying to grab the nylon strap that held Shader’s ruck sack. His legs complained as his footing on the slick, tile roof made it feel like he was running on a frozen lake. Some steps pushed him forward, while the next might just slip out from under him. Roof top dirt and mold clinging to the clay made his footing a nightmare.
Shader was quickly running out of roof, and he struggled to release the other toggle. Carver dove for the drop line, but it slipped out of his grasp. He watched as Shader was pulled down toward the five-story drop.
A blur of black and brown shot by Carver. It was Shrek. Carver got back up and staggered after the dog, but he quickly realized he was going to be too late to stop his friend’s fall.
Shrek
Shader is in trouble. He is rolling down the top of the building. He can’t stop. He will fall, but I will stop him.
I run down the slope. It is slick from filth. Green clings to the stone but I grip the edges of the stone roof with my paw and leap forward.
I see the parachute fly away. Shader has released it, but he still falls to the edge.
I have one chance. I leap at the line that trails behind Shader and grab it with my teeth. We both roll on, the fall to the ground rushing toward me. But I won’t let go. I must save him.
I turn and put my paws down, trying to grasp anything that can stop us.
The slime prevents me from holding anything, but each seam between the stony roof that I try to grasp slows us down a little bit more. But it won’t be enough. I can tell.
But I will not let go.
I will not fail.
I am Shrek.
I always win.
Shader
Shader looked below at about five hundred feet and saw the ocean suddenly churn. Whitecaps roiled where the dark, blue water had previously been calm. He knew that a white squall was coming, just as his chute was grabbed by the sudden gust of wind.
He struggled to keep control. The twisting of the wind caused him to tumble off course. Only his training and experience kept him on target.
By the time he brought his descent under control, he was dangerously close to the ground. He flared and brought himself up enough to clear the edge of the roof. He released his ruck, which dropped and dangled about ten feet below his feet, but his lateral speed was too great.
He hit the tile going way too fast. The swirling wind toppled him onto his back, and his billowing chute was dragging him to the edge. He struggled with the release toggle, getting one to let go. The other proved almost impossible with the wind pulling hard on the chute, causing him to roll down the roof.
With the edge rapidly approaching, he realized he wouldn’t be able to stop in time. Even if he could release the other toggle.
Then, he started to slow down.
He pulled out his knife and slashed at the remaining lines. The parachute fluttered away, but he continued to roll toward the edge. In two or three seconds, he’d fall to his death.
He took the knife and slammed it into the stony roof. The first strike failed to take. But he continued to slow down.
His second try worked. He punched through the old clay tile and his knife found the felt paper and wood below. The old roof’s wooden planks wrenched the knife from his hand.
He tumbled. He was going over.
Then, a miracle.
He was jolted to a stop. He looked back and saw Shrek, his trail line clamped between the dog’s teeth. He’d found a purchase point at the spot where he’d lost his knife. It was stuck in the wooden deck, and the dog had used it to break their fall.
Carver quickly joined his dog, and they both pulled him back from the brink. Shader crawled his way back to them and lay on his back. His heart pounded as his mind finally accepted that he wasn’t going to die. That feeling was short-lived, when Shrek let out a low growl. He saw the dog staring at the edge of the roof not fifty feet from where they lay. A gnarled claw appeared, gripping the edge of the roof. Variants. They’d been discovered.
Carver
Carver saw the top of the infected creature’s head first. Its mange-like sprouts of hair scattered around the scabs and lesions of the virus. He sent a subsonic 200-grain round into its skull. It dropped to the ground without a sound.
“Freedom. This is Red One actual. Do you copy? Over.”
“This is Freedom. What’s your pause? Over.”
“We’re on the roof. Execute Bodyguard. Execute Bodyguard. Do you copy? Over.”
“That’s a hard copy, Red One. Operation Bodyguard initiated. Keep your head down. Out.”
It didn’t take long. Freedom immediately sent multiple, rapid-fire shells into hills outside of Avalon. With the GPS coordinates already entered into the Freedom’s firing computers and the ship having moved to within five miles of the harbor town, the results were almost instantaneous. Small explosions peppered the mountainous outskirts with airburst shells that sent out hundreds of shrapnel fragments. The bombardment was a backup plan to distract the Variants. In this case, hopefully to turn their attention from the roof.
The two SEALs scanned the roof line for signs of more Variants. After almost a minute, they hustled back to Carver’s rucksack. They quickly geared up and Shader pulled out the pneumatic line gun. They went to the southern edge of the roof. Three bursts from Shader’s SureFire flashlight got the appropriate reply.
“Got the cable?” Shader asked, as he lined up his shot.
“Yeah. Heavy as hell. I’m glad we don’t have to lug it around anymore.”
Carver activated a glow stick and duct taped it to the grappling hook that Shader was about to launch.
“Here we go,” Shader said.
He depressed the trigger, sending the air-powered grapple flying through the air. The dim, green glow stick marked its flight as it splashed into the ocean about fifty feet short of the inflatable.
The bombardment continued, shells falling at a reduced, but steady rate. The explosions masked the sound of the boat’s engine as it rumbled forward. A few moments later, three short flashes from the crew’s flashlight confirmed that they had the rescue line.
Carver attached the steel cable to the nylon rope and flashed back at the ship. The crew on the inflatable pulled the rope, bringing the steel cable with it. After a minute, the men had the cable attached to the inflatable’s console.
“Now. Let’s get those survivors,” Shader said.
They slung rope around the cupola and scooted to the southern, oceanside roof line. Carver called Shrek and reattached him to his gear. They both leaned over the edge and rappelled down. Carver was carrying his dog while Shader brought the end of the steel cable, which was hooked to his web gear. They c
ame down on either side of the window where the eight had taken refuge.
They leaned over and peered into the window’s steel casement windows. The panes had been shattered by Variants trying to gain access, but the metal frames had kept the creatures from getting in.
“Hey!” Shader hissed in a loud whisper. “Who wants to get out of here?”
Shrek growled in Carver’s arms. Both men rappelled away from the window, just as several deformed arms shot out, grasping for their next meal. The beasts snarled and screamed, frustrated that they couldn’t get to the two men and their dog.
“Shit!” Carver cried. “All this for nothing.”
— 32 —
Catalina Casino
“When you get into a tight place and everything goes against you, till it seems as though you could not hold on a minute longer, never give up then, for that is just the place and time that the tide will turn.”
— Harriet Beecher Stowe
Carver swung his suppressed rifle up from his side and leaned toward the window. Infected faces snapped at him as they leaned out from the room, their arms stretched in desperation. They were insanely hungry. Ravenous for uninfected flesh, and a tasty meal had just presented itself.
The silenced shots ripped through the Variants’ bodies as the .300 Blackout’s 200-grain bullets punched through flesh and bone. Carver did a full magazine dump then replaced the empty with another full thirty-round box.
The hissing and snapping of jaws stopped.
“What the hell did you do that for?” Shader whispered.
“The plan is to attach the steel cable to the window frame. We still need to get inside if we’re going to zipline out of here.”
Shader nodded and shined his flashlight into the room. There were six Variant bodies splayed on the floor. Nothing else was in the room.
Carver reached inside and found the crank that opened the window. Within a few seconds, they had swung inside. As Carver moved past the scattered dead, he planted a suppressed bullet in each of their skulls, just to be sure.
The room had been torn apart. Fifty-five-gallon metal drums had been overturned and boxes of old MREs, along with overturned cots and medical supplies, littered the floor.
Once they got past the blood-soaked floor, Carver put Shrek on the ground. The dog seemed less agitated, which calmed both SEALs’ nerves.
With only one window lighting up the space, the men turned on their flashlights and scanned the room. The door to the room was ajar. They crept forward and gingerly peeked into the hallway. It was empty.
Shader inspected the metal door, checking its knob and the locking mechanism.
“The door wasn’t breached,” he whispered. “Back up.”
He gently closed the metal door and turned its deadbolt lock. It clicked in place without a problem.
“That was easy,” Shader said. “Now that we have our ‘six’ covered, let’s hook up the line and get out of here.”
Shader turned toward the window, where he already had the metal cable looped loosely around the casement window frame.
“Red One. This is Rescue One. You’ve got a shitload of Tangos climbing the wall! Get the hell out of there!”
Shader got to the window just as a large Variant grasped the open frame. It shrieked when it saw Shader. Porky instinctively fired his M4, spraying the monster with a spread of bullets.
The creature’s yellow eyes were blazing as the rounds stitched up its chest. A final bullet hit the ocular cavity, splashing out its left eye as the bullet tore into its brain. It screamed loudly as it was flung back by the bullets’ impact.
“No!” Shader yelled.
The dead creature’s arm caught the steel cable and tore it from its loose hold. The Variant fell to the earth, taking their steel lifeline with it.
Shader stuck his head out and watched the cable drop and disappear into the knee-high grass nearly sixty feet below.
He also saw dozens more of the monsters scaling the wall.
“We’ve got trouble,” Shader said as he spun the crank that closed the window’s pane-less frame. Seconds after he got the metal frame closed, the opening was blanketed by the infected. Their screams and cries echoed in the room, drawing more of their kind to the outside hallway.
Shader hefted his battle rifle to his shoulder and took aim at the ungodly creatures that were trying to worm their way into the room, but the other SEAL reached out and brought the rifle down.
“Why did you stop me, Carver?”
“We don’t have enough bullets to kill them all. Just save it for later when it might make a difference.”
Shader realized he was right. He could dump all his ammunition into the creatures, and there would still be hundreds, maybe even thousands remaining after he had run dry. They’d have to figure out another way.
“Let’s get out of their line of sight,” Carver suggested. “They’ll settle down after a while.”
They moved to a back corner, where they found another reinforced door. Shader tried to open it. The knob turned but it had been locked from the inside.
“Look at Shrek,” Carver said.
Shader looked down and saw the dog staring at the door.
“Something or someone is in there, and it isn’t a Variant,” Carver said.
“You sure about that?” Shader asked.
Even in the flat, green image of his night vision, Shader could see his friend’s expression. “Okay. Stupid question.”
Carver gently knocked on the door.
“Is anyone in there?”
A faint moaning echoed back. Then nothing.
“Open it,” Carver said to Shader.
Shader produced his lock pick set and opened the deadbolt then they stacked up on the door, just in case. Carver had the number-one spot in front.
Shader stood back and grasped the knob. He reached up to Carver’s shoulder and squeezed. When he released his grip, he turned the knob and pulled the door open. Carver spun into the opening and strode in.
“Short room,” Carver barked, indicating it was a small area and he’d be able to handle himself.
After a moment, he called Shader into the room.
The first thing Shader saw was Carver, who was on his knee in the corner of the small storage space. The next thing he noticed was the smell. It was a locker room and outhouse, all wrapped into one, and the stench was overwhelming. Several crates of military rations had been torn open and MRE boxes were stacked in one of the room’s corners. Opposite was a food-grade bucket. The smell was coming from there. Shader didn’t need to take a peek to know it had been used as a latrine for whomever Carver was attending.
Shader called Shrek into the room and closed the door. They were now out of sight to the creatures that were trying to get to them from the window.
“You’ll be fine,” Carver said gently to the person on the ground.
Shader walked over to his friend and found him hovering over a woman. She was lying on her back and barely conscious.
Carver pulled the CamelBak hose from his rig and brought it down to the woman’s mouth. “Here. Drink this.”
She closed her lips and began sucking on the mouthpiece. Nothing happened.
“You need to bite the end to open it. Can you do that?”
She nodded and did as she was told.
“Hey. Take it easy. A little at a time.” Carver pulled the piece from her mouth. The woman nodded again and wearily lifted her hand, placing it on Carver’s arm.
“Thank you.” Her voice came out dry and raspy.
“Don’t talk. Just take your time. We’re not going anywhere.”
“Red Team. This is Rescue One. Do you read me? Over.”
Shader answered. “We’re fine, Rescue One. But we’re trapped. We have one survivor so far.”
The conversation was short and to the point. Even with the naval bombardment distracting many of the creatures, the walls outside were thick with the infected. Hundreds had been called there by the de
ath of the monster that lay on the ground below. It also hadn’t helped that Shader’s rifle lacked a suppressor. His eleven-round burst had not only killed the Variant at the window but ignited a firestorm in the hallway as well. Fortunately, both the door and steel casement window frame held the creatures back. They were safe, at least for now.
“Hey, Porky. She’s coming around,” Carver whispered.
The woman’s head was nestled inside Carver’s woobie. He’d used the soft poncho liner as a pillow, cushioning her head from the hard, oak floor. After taking several more gulps of water from Carver’s CamelBak, she had dropped back into unconsciousness.
Carver had immediately felt for her pulse when she passed out. It was thin and thready, her heartbeat hardly registering in her peripheral artery. She was terribly dehydrated, so he used one of their saline pouches and started an IV. That had been over an hour ago.
While they waited for her to regain consciousness they sat silently with the woman, hoping the Variants would lose interest. So far, their strategy had failed, given that the din from the next room was as loud as ever.
The woman gazed around with a perplexed look. Her eyes strained to focus as she tried to orient herself. In the dim light cast by the glow stick they’d activated, Carver and Shader cast long, dark shadows that danced on the ceiling. They looked like ghosts hovering in the far corner of the room. The phantoms seemed to advance towards her as both men moved to her side. She saw the specters stop on the ceiling above and she screamed.
Both operators spun, bringing their weapons up to cover the door that led back into the main room. Nothing was there.
“What the hell?” Shader hissed.
Carver glanced back down and saw the woman’s frightened look.
“She’s in shock.”
Shrek had remained near the woman as she lay in fear. When she had cried out, he knew there was nothing in the last room. If there had been, he would have smelled the asp long before it got to their room’s door.
Extinction Survival Series (Book 3): Cost of Survival Page 31
