by David Spell
The noise of the infected got even louder as they could see their prey, just out of reach. McCain held the flash bang in his left hand, his strong hand, and prepared to pull the pin with his right. Suddenly, another sound got the CDC officer’s attention. He scanned the sky, quickly looking around him.
Elizabeth felt her heart pounding inside of her, waiting for the explosion. Rather than throwing the grenade, however, Chuck was staring up at the sky. Something had gotten his attention. After a few seconds, she heard it, too. What was that? A large black helicopter suddenly appeared above them, hovering low enough for Beth to observe several figures crowded inside. A huge man wearing a black helmet leaned out the side door, holding what she thought was a sniper rifle, his bushy beard waving in the wind.
She looked back at Chuck and saw a look of disbelief on his face that turned into a smile. He shoved the grenade back into his pocket as the helicopter dropped even lower. They’re going to land right on top of us! she thought. The bearded man saluted Chuck and motioned for the two of them to duck.
The aircraft, a Blackhawk, her husband told her later, continued it’s descent. McCain pulled her down and they crawled towards the far end of the roof. The wind generated by the rotor blades threatened to blow the petite young woman off the top of the trailer but Chuck had a firm grip on her backpack.
The Blackhawk came to a hover just inches off the roof of the mobile home. McCain crouch walked the last several feet, pulling Beth with him. The bearded sniper and a young black man in dark BDUs pulled the two of them into the helicopter and helped them get strapped in. The smaller man handed each of them a headset.
Still not sure if this was actually happening, Elizabeth glanced around the passenger compartment and saw two more large, heavily armed bearded men, and a smiling young woman wearing jeans and a camo jacket with a black shotgun standing between her legs. An elderly man, also wearing BDUs and a holstered pistol, watched her and Chuck with interest. McCain took off his helmet and slipped the headset on, Beth following his lead.
“That was good timing, Admiral,” Chuck’s voice came over the intercom as he looked at the older man.
“Take us up, Colonel,” the older man nodded at McCain and then looked up front towards the pilot, “and then bring us around for a gun pass. Sergeant Harris, can you take out that big group of infected?”
“Yes, sir, Admiral!” the door gunner responded with enthusiasm, settling in behind some kind of machine gun.
Elizabeth watched Chuck, still smiling, reach over and pat the sniper on the back. “Good to see you, Scotty! What took you so long?”
Her husband nodded at the young woman sitting on the other side of Elizabeth in the back of the helicopter. “Nice to see you, Emily. Thanks for taking care of Scotty.”
Scotty? McCain had described each of his teammates to her. Was this Scotty Smith? Chuck had told her that Smith’s girlfriend was named Emily. How did they find us?
Scotty was a giant of a man. Grinning, he leaned over to Chuck and pulled the headphones back from his boss’ ear and said something that only McCain could hear. Chuck repeated the process, sliding Smith’s headphone aside and answered, speaking directly into his ear. The huge man’s eyes got big, a shocked look on his face as he turned to stare at Beth.
The pilot’s voice came over the intercom. “I’m going to hover off here to the side and let you do your thing, Harris. Whenever you’re ready.”
“Yes, sir. Engaging now.”
They all glanced down as the machine gun cut loose, the barrels spinning, spitting out thousands of bullets into the swarm of zombies below them. The gunner fired short bursts, sweeping the gun at head height cutting them down by the dozens. Heads exploded, the red mist hanging in the air, and bodies were blown apart. In less than a minute, half of the group had been eliminated.
The pilot took them up and made a big circle, putting Sergeant Harris in position to take out the rest of the Zs. After they circled the area for a few minutes looking for more targets, Elizabeth felt her stomach in her mouth as the helicopter quickly ascended, their speed increasing. This was her first helicopter ride, but at the moment, she was still trying to process the fact that she and Chuck were alive.
“Mr. McCain, it looks like you and your companion were in a little bit of a predicament,” the elderly man said, a twinkle in his eye. “Is this Melanie?”
Chuck had a confused look on his face. Elizabeth gave an embarrassed laugh when McCain didn’t answer, giving her husband an elbow in the side.
“Oh, no, sir,” McCain finally answered. “This is Elizabeth, my wife. We got married last Monday.”
The admiral, Emily, and the other two armed men looked on in surprise. Emily leaned close to Elizabeth and put an arm around her shoulders, a huge smile on her face.
“Well, congratulations on your wedding,” Admiral Williams said, over the intercom, looking at Beth. “I’m sure there’s quite a story there.” He looked back at Chuck. “Agent McCain, we need to get back to Georgia. We have a very serious situation and I need your expertise.”
“Respectfully, sir,” McCain said, “not yet. I’ve been trying to get to my daughter for two months and now we’re less than ten minutes away by air. I’m not going back to Georgia without seeing her.”
Elizabeth sensed the mood in the helicopter instantly shift from joyous to tense. The two bearded bookends glared at Chuck, slowly easing their rifles around. They had never heard anyone tell the admiral ‘no’ before. Scotty saw this, shifting his body so that he was facing them, his rifle across his knees. He’s making sure they don’t try anything stupid, Beth realized, still not quite sure what was happening.
The machine gunner turned so that he was facing McCain, his hand drifting towards a pistol on his belt. Smith made eye contact with the young man and gave a slight shake of his head. The young sergeant swallowed, keeping his hands away from his gun.
Admiral Williams saw everything and spoke over the intercom. “It’s OK, gentleman. Mr. McCain and I just need to have a chat. Colonel, can you find us a safe spot to land?”
“Yes, sir. Give me a moment.”
Two minutes later, the pilot’s voice came over the intercom. “Admiral, I’m going to put down on a two-lane road. It’s a long, straight stretch and there are large fields on either side. I circled the area and it looks clear but I don’t want to be on the ground any longer than ten minutes.”
“That’s fine, Colonel. Thank you.”
The Blackhawk touched down and the pilot cut the power, shutting down the engines. Chuck leaned over to Beth and said, “I’ll be right back.”
McCain unbuckled his harness and started to leave but turned back, remembering something. He looked at Emily. “Em, this is my wife, Elizabeth. Beth, this is Emily. She’s an amazing person and I’m really glad you get to meet her.”
The two young women smiled as Chuck climbed out of the aircraft. The two bodyguards started to get out, as well, but the admiral waved them back. McCain turned and offered a hand to the older man, helping him down to the ground.
The two men walked out into an empty field, away from the aircraft. “Who are Tweedledee and Tweedledum?” McCain asked.
Williams chuckled. “Those are my bodyguards. You met them a while back. They came and took custody of that FBI mole that you and Agent Fleming captured. I was promoted a few months back from Assistant Director of Operations to Director of Operations. My former boss decided that the end of the world was a good time to retire so I was appointed to take his place. Of course, I’m fifteen years older than he is and you don’t hear me talking of retiring.
“Anyway, the Director of the CIA insisted that I have security and those two are very good at what they do. Tim was former Delta Force and Tom came from SEAL Team Six.”
“Congratulations on the promotion, sir. It’s definitely well deserved. How did you find us?” McCain asked. “I knew the CIA was good but this takes the cake.”
The older man laughed again. “It’s
pretty simple. Your rifles all have a GPS transmitter inside of them. That was how I located Agent Smith and then you.”
“That’s brilliant! What about the rest of my team in Atlanta?”
By now, they were out of earshot of anyone at the helicopter and the admiral stopped, turning to his companion, but ignoring his last question. “Chuck, I want to hear about the last two months and especially about your pretty wife. Unfortunately, that’ll have to wait. Let me tell you what we’re dealing with.”
McCain knew the admiral well enough to know that when he called him by his first name, it was serious. Chuck both liked and respected the admiral and truly hoped that they could reach an agreement to continue working together.
“Does this have anything to do with a Mexican cartel in Atlanta?” McCain asked.
Williams nodded, clearly impressed that Chuck had heard about the crisis. “It has everything to do with a Mexican cartel.”
He gave his subordinate a rundown on the situation. McCain listened intently as the admiral described some of the atrocities that the gang had committed. The clincher for Chuck was when Williams pulled out his satellite smart phone and pushed play on a video.
“I just received this video on the flight over to find you. It was taken this morning.”
The footage had obviously come from a drone, the image sharp and clear. Two pickups and a van were driving down a deserted main thoroughfare, stopping in front of a tall building. Armed men climbed out of the back of the pickups and approached the rear of the van. The obvious leader of the group paused at the doors of the van, speaking to the others.
When the back doors were opened, the cartel soldiers climbed inside, dragging a group of women out a few moments later. Suddenly, the gang leader lifted his rifle, firing into the back of the van. One of the other soldiers reached inside and dragged the lifeless body of a woman out by her leg, dropping her onto the street.
Chuck felt anger rising up inside of him as he watched the men herd the remaining women inside the large building.
“Where’s this at?”
“The cartel has taken over a high-rise apartment building in Buckhead as their headquarters. They’ve got thirty or forty women locked up inside, and they’re being used as sex slaves. The gang has secured several of the surrounding blocks and don’t show any sign of leaving. Obviously, they’ve taken advantage of the terrorist attacks in Atlanta to establish a foothold. We’ve got to stop them before they get too entrenched.”
“How many gang members are we talking about?”
Williams shrugged. “We’re not sure. Probably close to two hundred. But there’s something else you need to know. They have a quantity of the virus. The President has ordered me to personally put together an operation to eliminate the cartel presence on American soil, secure the virus, and free the hostages.
“My assistant, Shaun, is at the CDC site and has briefed your agents there. I also took the liberty of sending four officers from the DC office to Georgia to be a part of this. There’ll be quite a few other assets in play and we’ll work out other details and issues as we plan. I’ll have overall command of the mission but once we launch, you’ll have tactical command of the entire operation.”
The admiral saw the shocked look on McCain’s face and wanted to tell him more but the helicopter pilot was motioning for them to return to the aircraft.
Chuck was surprised at the admiral’s confidence. McCain had been a police officer for twenty years, most of that time as a SWAT officer and a team leader. His two years of being embedded with the Army Green Berets as a police liaison had helped hone his fighting skills to a high level. Planning and leading an operation to take down a couple hundred bad guys, however, was something else entirely.
He wanted to help but his own family came first. “Admiral Williams, my daughter is less then ten minutes from here. I haven’t seen her in months and I need to know that she’s OK. As far as I know it’s a secure location and the satellite maps show a landing zone near the house. Take me there and let me see her. We can all spend the night on the farm and tomorrow I’ll go with you back to Georgia.”
The older man shook his head and sighed. “Mr. McCain, there aren’t many man who negotiate with an admiral. Most people just say, ‘Yes, sir,’ and snap to it. Not you. I guess that’s one of the reasons I like you so much.”
Williams stuck out his hand. “You’ve got a deal. And I’ll even go a step farther. After we eliminate this problem in Atlanta, I’ll let you use the helicopter to come back and spend some more time with Melanie.”
Tim, Tom, and Scotty stood around the outside of the Blackhawk, weapons at the ready, watching for threats. Emily and Elizabeth chatted briefly, with Beth trying to keep an eye on Chuck. The two men were engrossed in their conversation. A few minutes later, McCain was staring at something on a screen and she saw that expression on his face. She had only seen that look a couple of times, usually right before he went into combat mode.
Emily had observed the hundreds of zombies surrounding Chuck and Beth on top of the mobile home. When Elizabeth told her new friend what the two of them had gone through that morning, Emily could sense how stressful it had been and put a comforting arm around her shoulders.
Beth sighed with relief when she saw Chuck and the older man, the Admiral, they had called him, shake hands. He seems like a nice man, she thought. It was obvious that her husband liked him and that was good enough for her.
“I’m sorry, I’m so tired, Emily. I really want to talk to you,” Elizabeth said, yawning, weariness suddenly engulfing her.
“Don’t worry about it. We can chat later.”
For some reason, Beth felt her eyelids getting heavy and she closed them, finally feeling secure for the first time in hours.
When they got back to the helicopter, McCain saw that Elizabeth was asleep, leaning on Emily. He nodded and smiled at Em, mouthing, ‘thank you.’ Chuck pulled the satellite maps out of his pocket and showed them to the pilot, Colonel Michael Doran, and co-pilot, Major Juanita Custodio. Admiral Williams spoke to his bodyguards and Scotty, letting them know of the change of plans.
As Colonel Doran started the engines again and readied the aircraft for takeoff, Major Custodio compared McCain’s maps to her own, plugging the coordinates into the Blackhawk’s GPS.
“I’ve got the location programmed, Colonel,” the co-pilot said. “It’s just under seven miles. We’ll call it an ETA of five minutes.”
“Roger,” the pilot acknowledged, lifting the helicopter into the air.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Homecoming
Hendersonville, North Carolina, Saturday, 1535 hours
The pilot circled around and came in from the rear of what they hoped was the Mitchell farm. Beautiful, Chuck thought, surveying the property below him. What a great location to ride out the zombie apocalypse. The main residence was at least five hundred feet off of the roadway, hidden behind a thick copse of trees. Another smaller house was located a hundred feet behind the other. A well-kept barn sat off to the right of the first two structures. A fence surrounded the property, a combination of chain-link and wood.
Several large, open fields surrounded the home. McCain spotted four cows, a chicken coop, and a pigpen located around the property. Colonel Doran brought the helicopter around so they could view the front of the farm. Sergeant Harris peered over the sights of his mini-gun, looking for threats, while Scotty Smith looked out the other side, the sniper rifle cradled in his massive arms.
Three pickup trucks, two SUVs, and a passenger car were parked next to the main house. Chuck recognized Brian’s white Honda CRV in the middle of the group. Or at least one like Brian’s, the big man told himself. They still hadn’t seen any signs of life.
“I’ve got three, make it four armed males coming out a side door,” Sergeant Harris said, covering the men until they could verify who they were.
McCain had only met Brian once, and had never met the rest of his family, just talking to his fa
ther, Tommy, on the phone. The men kept their long guns pointed at the ground, watching the circling helicopter with curiosity. Suddenly, a familiar form was standing with the men.
“That’s Melanie!” Chuck yelled over the intercom.
He leaned out next to Sergeant Harris and waved. After a moment, he saw her jump into the air, grab the man next to her by the arm and shake him, and then wave both arms at the Blackhawk.
“Colonel, can you put us down in that field behind the house?” the admiral asked, softly, watching the excited young woman below.
“Yes, sir.”
McCain stuck his arm outside and pointed to the rear of the house and then moved back to where Beth was still napping. Emily grinned at him as he leaned in and gently kissed his wife. She woke up, disoriented, looking around with uncertainty in her eyes.
Chuck pulled the headphone back from her head and put his mouth next to her ear. “We’re here. I just saw Melanie and we’re about to land.”
With relief evident on her face, Elizabeth sat up and put her arms around him as the aircraft descended, making a soft landing behind what Chuck thought of as the guesthouse. McCain had his and Beth’s harnesses unsnapped before they had settled onto the ground, quickly jumping out of the Blackhawk. He held his wife’s hand and motioned for her to crouch, the two of them running clear of the spinning rotors into the waiting arms of his daughter.
“Daddy!” Melanie squealed, holding him tight, crying for joy. Brian stood just behind her, cradling an AR-15, smiling broadly.
After several minutes, Chuck said, “I’ve been so worried about you.” He held Melanie’s face in his hands and just looked at her, tears running down his face. A University of Georgia cap sat on her head, her light brown hair just touching her shoulders. Freckles were sprinkled across her nose and face.
“And I’ve been so worried about you,” she said, kissing him on the cheek and hugging him tightly again. She finally looked up at him and laughed. “That was quite an entrance!”
