A New World: Chaos (40 page)

Lynn
gathers the group around her, “Okay, is there anyone here who also feels the need to leave?”
 
She asks sternly with her hands on her hips and looking at each one in turn.

As she locks eyes with each soldier, they answer with a “No, Sergeant.”

“Very well.
 
If you hear of any rumors or word of such, you’re to let me know immediately.
 
Understood!”

“Yes, Sergeant.”

She then reassigns a single Humvee at each of the previous locations and gets on the radio informing Major Bannerman of the situation.
 
“Very well, Sergeant Connell, we’ll be returning shortly,” Bannerman responds.

It’s at this time that she notices one of the soldiers that departed was the one that had been bitten in the armory.
 
She lets out a heavy sigh of disappointment and turns to await the arrival of the foraging party.

The detail party returns a short time later loaded with water and food.
 
Lynn
brings Bannerman up to speed with the events and their situation.
 
“Sir, I recommend we break into single Humvee groups to gather our personal ready packs and meet back here in ninety minutes before heading out to the tower.
 
We’ll need to recon the tower and set up before dark,” she finishes looking at the blazing sun pass it zenith and heads into the afternoon.

“Very well, Sergeant Connell.
 
Make the assignments.”

Lynn breaks the groups into four separate groups with, Bannerman, Drescoll, Taylor, and herself leading them.
 
“Stay as a team and gather your items one person at a time,” she instructs them.
 
They synch their watches, load into their respective vehicles, and head out to the various barrack facilities.

“What about our armor, Sergeant Connell?”
 
Taylor asks.

“Bring them just in case but it’s not necessary to don them right now.”

With Corporal Horace and two other Privates in her group,
Lynn
parks the Humvee in front of her barracks.
 
She steps out of her vehicle and scans the area after grabbing her M-16 and several magazines from inside, sticking the extra ammo in the cargo pockets of her fatigues.
 
The occasional birds usually heard or seen around the camp seem to be taking a break from the heat that has now climbed to over the 100 degree mark.
 
Nothing disturbs the still heat of the day.
 
Even the muted sound of generators running near the TOC are silent giving a possible indication to Lynn that the power in this area has been disrupted by either mechanical failure or they may have simply run out of fuel.
 
The closing of the Humvee doors sounds unnaturally clear and loud; even the sound of their boots hitting the ground is crisp and disturbs the quiet more than it should.

“We’re going to move through here and clear the barracks cubicle by cubicle from front to back.
 
There may be survivors holding up within.
 
I’m going to give a shout upon entry and, if no one responds, then we’ll assume anything moving is hostile,” Lynn says gathering her small group around her.
 
“Corporal Horace, you and Private Manning take the right side.
 
Private Turnbull, you’re with me.
 
Side by side down the central corridor.
 
Any questions.”

“No, Sergeant,” they respond above the clicking sound of their weapon’s selector switches transferring from ‘safe’ to ‘burst.’

Lynn steps up to the long and narrow convex building door; the steel building and door radiating the absorbed heat.
 
Standing to the left of the door against the building with Turnbull behind her and the other team of two off to one side in front of the door; Horace kneels in the sand and Manning stands beside her looking over her shoulder, Lynn reaches out to the door’s handle.

Looking back over her shoulder at Horace, she says, “You’re right, I’m left.
 
Manning and Turnbull, you have the corridor to the right and left respectively.”

She then gives Horace a nod which the Corporal returns, and, after each soldier verifies that their flashlights they picked up from the TOC and Humvees are on, Lynn swings the door open, darts in turning instantly to her left, sinking to her knees to the immediate inside left of the door and bringing her weapon to her shoulder, her light shining in her assigned area.
 
Corporal Horace darts in immediately on
Lynn
’s heels accomplishing the same to the right.
 
Manning and Turnbull follow in setting up five feet further inside focusing down the concrete corridor.

The light streaming through the closing door illuminates the barracks in a thin stream along the corridor for about fifteen feet before dimming into blackness.
 
The thin stream narrows in width as the door begins to swing shut on its own behind them.
 
The light from their flashlights shine about a third of the way into the barracks, picking up rows of tan lockers along the corridor, separating the open space into smaller enclosed cubicles.
 
The only other light in the building comes from the far end exit light above the far end door casting very little light around it.

The light from Lynn’s flashlight shines into the first cubicle to the left revealing closed locker doors and two made bunks placed end to end against the front wall with footlockers neatly set against the foot of each bunk.
 
No movement greets any of the team and the only sound is the soft rustle of the clothing as they adjust their bodies.
 
The door behind them closes with a loud click and a soft booming noise, echoing throughout the large enclosed space, shutting off the outside light and bathing the team in the soft glow of the exit light set into the wall above them.
 
The beams of their flashlights cast searchingly into the darkness of the building.

“It’s all clear here, Sergeant Connell,” Private Turnbull says.

“Here too,” both Horace and Manning say only a second later.

“Anyone here,” Lynn calls out into the darkness as she reaches up to the light switch just above her head.

She flicks the bank of switches into the upward position just as several shrieks scream in close intervals out of the darkness.
 
The interior lights remain off, indicative of a lack of power to the barracks.
 
The echo of the screams make it difficult to ascertain their exact location but they seem to be coming from further back in the building and from the side cubicles in various locations.

“Assume they’re hostile.
 
Fire at will but hold these positions,”
Lynn
says to her team as she orients herself down the corridor, still on her knees.

Immediately upon situating herself into her new position behind and slightly to the left of Private Turnbull, three figures burst out into the wide hallway from the cubicles on the left and four from the right.
 
They immediately turn toward the team breaking into a run directly at them.
 
More enter into the light cast by their lights from the far end of the building right on the heels of the first ones.
 
The sound of Lynn’s M-16 barks loudly into the diminishing echoes of the shrieks as three rounds leave the barrel of her weapon and streak towards the closest figure, the first round catching it square in the sternum.
 
Her second round hits in the neck causing an explosion of bright red blood that spreads in all directions.
 
A millisecond later, the third round hits the creature’s pale gray face just above the tip of its nose and emerges from the back of the skull, bathing the creatures just behind it in blood and gore as its head explodes backwards.
 
The force and solid thud of the three rounds impacting immediately stops the forward momentum of its upward body as the legs continue to take one more step resulting in the figure being knocked backward and the legs flying into the air in front.
 
The body hits the concrete floor with a loud crack.

Before the strobe-like flashes of Lynn’s first shots vanish, more flash throughout the immediate area as the rest of her team opens fire on the rapidly swelling group running toward them.
 
Bodies are flung in all directions as the corridor is filled with steel and the tinkling of shells hitting the floor as rounds are expended from the chambers of four weapons firing into the mass of bodies.
 
Time slows.

Lynn calls out, “Reloading,” as she ejects the now empty magazine from her M-16.
 
The magazine hits the ground beside her with a ringing metallic sound as she grabs for another from her cargo pocket.
 
Two clicks sound as she inserts a fresh magazine firmly into the lower receiver and triggers the bolt release.
 
She quickly adds additional rounds into the air in front of them.

Although they are dropping bodies left and right, the figures are getting closer by the second due to their number and closeness in which they started pouring into the corridor.
 
A cacophony of noise fills the barracks from a mixture of shrieks, growls, and gunfire.
 
The additional sounds of cartridges hitting the floor and solid smacks of rounds finding their targets fills the air as the surrounding area is lit by a constant flashing of weapons being fired.
 
Although thinned substantially from the accurate fire, the creatures close the distance to within a few feet of the kneeling team.

Time suddenly accelerates as one creature leaps into the air with a shriek and slams into Private Turnbull, launching him backward toward Lynn.
 
He lands beside her on his back with the creature on top.
 
Lynn rams the butt of her M-16 into the side of the creature’s head knocking it off Turnbull onto the ground on the other side.
 
She quickly reverses her weapon and fires into its chest point blank.
 
Blood flowers from its chest from three neat holes close together in the middle of its chest as Private Turnbull quickly rises back to his knees.

Another creature simultaneously slams into Private Manning launching him in a similar fashion next to Corporal Horace.
 
Warm liquid sprays outward and bathes the left side of Horace’s face as the creature bites into Manning, ripping a large chunk of meat from the side of his neck.
 
His piercing scream fills the air.
 
Horace puts the muzzle of her M-16 against the creatures head and fires.
 
The head disintegrates and the thing falls heavily to the floor.
 
She turns back to face the hall only to find it empty.

The sudden lack of sound is almost deafening compared to the amount of noise that permeated the interior only moments before.
 
The only exception is the quick, shallow, panting breath from the three still on their knees and the moaning from Manning immediately beside Horace.
 
The smell of gunpowder hangs in the air.
 
Lynn scans the surrounding area but sees only a multitude of bodies covering the entirety of her immediate front to the limit of the shifting light from their flashlights.

Lynn
looks over at Private Manning and is immediately at his side.
 
Blood spurts from the gouge in his neck covering the floor around him and splashes on her fatigue pants.
 
His entire neck, side of his face, and fatigues covering his shoulder are bathed in bright red blood.
 
She drops her light and covers his wound with her hand in an attempt to stop the bleeding.
 
Blood leaks out beneath her hand and through her fingers.
 
Private Manning looks up widely at her and their eyes lock; his eyes are full of pain and a fear that his last moments are drawing near.

“It’s okay, Private.
 
We stopped ‘em thanks to you,” she says keeping eye contact with him.
 

A slight smile crosses his ruined face as his body stiffens with a tremor and the life leaves his eyes; dimming them and glazing over.
 
The blood that flowed beneath her hand stops and she reaches up to close his eyes.

Lynn
looks up from her kneeling position towards Horace and Turnbull noticing Turnbull holding his left forearm.
 
“Are you injured?”
 
She asks.

“It bit me but it’s only superficial.
 
I’ll be fine thanks to you, Sergeant,” he says looking at her with a smile of gratitude.

He lifts his hand from the wound and shows her.
 
A bite mark that has penetrated the skin shows but the wound is not gouged out.
 
Lynn
gives a nod, turns her attention to Horace and says, “Get the med kit from the wall and dress that up.”