Only the Dead Live Forever (16 page)

“You were back
home? What’s it like?” Brad asked.

“Last time I was
there I was taking a family back from Jordan. We landed at Andrews; Reagan had
already been overrun. When we flew over we could see that the city was a
burning mess; they had road blocks everywhere, but most of them were down.
Military was scattered, no command, and no control. The family begged me to
take them back to Jordan. But that wasn’t in the works.”

“What happened
to them?”

“They were taken
away by State Department vehicles,” Gunner said, shaking his head. He reached
into his pocket for another cigarette. “The jet was refueled and rushed me back
to Qatar for another pickup. City was dark when we got there; airport was empty.
We damn near crash landed. Runway lights were all off and we clipped a utility
vehicle on the ground.

“My team and I
left the pilots on the ground. They were going to try and secure
transportation. We grabbed a vehicle and headed to the embassy over land. It
was poor decision-making on my part. We only made it two blocks. We fought our
way to an apartment roof and held up for three days. Never heard from the
pilots again. On the fourth day, a Chinook picked up my distress beacon and got
us out of there. We sat at the embassy for two more days before the admiral
finally pulled us out.

“If you are
planning to go back to the States because you think it’s better than this …
think again. We all have our reasons for going back. Safety won’t be one of
them.”

Sean slapped
Gunner on the back. “Understood, Gunner; that just came out wrong. I appreciate
the plans you have laid out. Let me track down my Marines. We’ll be ready to
roll with you when we get the go.”

“Brief them on
the raid mission only, don’t say shit else. No one outside of us knows the real
intentions of tomorrow’s mission. We’ll let them make that choice on the
ground. After the CH-53 drops us in the city, we’ll wire up a perimeter. If
they decide to not go back with us, the birds will be back to take them home
... Long after we are gone,” Gunner said with a grin.

“Don’t worry,
Gunner; they’ll want to go with us. We’ve been through a lot,” Brad said.

29.

The trio found
the Marines late that night, gathered outside of the chow tents. Chelsea said
her group leader had already informed them about the raid. Sean didn’t
elaborate on the mission or why they were selected to join Charlie Group, just
that he wanted experienced Marines on his raid, people that he could trust, and
not a bunch of broke ass sailors with no boots-on-ground time. The Marines were
excited to be back working with Sean again.

Sean gave them a
detailed packing list for the mission and left them. Gunner had warned him
again about spending a lot of time with people outside of the group. The camp’s
cohesiveness had broken down, and rumors spread fast. They didn’t want anyone
getting suspicions about the real intentions of the raid. The trio went back to
tent six and did their own pre-combat checks and inspected their equipment.

Brad found that
most of his gear was still present. After a good washing, he reverted back to
his Army issue MultiCam uniform and stuffed the Navy crap back into his sea
bag. He did keep the boots though; his old ones had a lot of miles on them and
were starting to fall apart. The only things he noticed missing were his scout
binoculars and most of his spare magazines for the M4.

Sean was pissed
when he discovered the satellite phone was gone along with the batteries. Even
though it had been useless to them for a while, they had gone through a lot of
trouble to get it, and he wasn’t happy to see it missing. Sean and Brooks
decided to stay in their familiar Navy uniforms, not because they liked them,
but because the civilian gear they had been wearing was a mess and was ripping
at the seams.

Gunner took them
to the supply building, one of the few hardened structures on the camp. Each of
the trio were issued a new fighting knife, which Brad thought was of far less
quality than the karambit he already carried. He figured he would pass the new
one off to a Marine.

They were also
given a small pry bar and a tactical tomahawk, along with a bundle of
batteries, more spare magazines, and some new gloves. Each of them was given a
Kevlar shirt which the supply petty officer called a bite shirt. He explained
the shirt was originally designed when working with sharpened sheet metal on
aircraft, but had also proven useful in close combat with primals.

Gunner explained
to them that there were not many recon members in the camp and, because of the
shortage of gun fighters, they had been stuck doing most of the heavy lifting.
This niche status earned them a nice cache of weapons and equipment. The recon
groups received better food at chow and they had more freedom of movement on
the island.

Another benefit
of being on a recon team was that you did not have to participate in the daily
camp duties. No working in the mess hall, filling sand bags, or burning shit.
Still though, one or two days a week you were expected to go into the infected
cities and face off against the primals. When the mission was over, a
twenty-four hour quarantine would be waiting for you.

The admiral had
tried to give his war fighters the best to keep them happy. The security of the
camp was held together by the compliance of the recon groups. One thing the
admiral didn’t understand was that the same thing that gave them the courage to
run down primals, was also what burned at them to return home to their country
and their families, even if it meant certain death.

Morning came hot
and fast to the island. Brad woke early, since it was impossible to sleep under
the intensity of the sun. He rose from his cot and followed the others to the
showers and latrine. He had briefly met the members of Charlie Group the previous
night. It had been late though, and there were no lights in the tent, so
introductions were brief.

Charlie Group
was made up almost entirely of combat arms soldiers, sailors and Marines. There
were seven of them, including Gunner. Most of them had worked together for
weeks, since the founding of the island camp. Gunner had joined the group
early, and as the senior member had become their leader. He was responsible for
the recruiting and training of the members as well as the planning of missions.
The rest of Charlie Group referred to Gunner as ‘The Godfather’, which somehow
had broken down to just ‘Pops’.

The only female
in the group and exclusive non-combat arms member was Lieutenant Kelli Davis.
She had been a competitive shooting champion in high school, and ranked top
junior pistol shot in her state for three years. It was said her skills with a
rifle were even better. She was raised a country girl, hard as nails, and could
hunt and track with the best of them.

Gunner sent a
request through the chain of command for Kelli to join Charlie Group. They
resisted at first, but Gunner was a hell of a salesman and eventually they came
around. He was in need of a sniper and she would fit the position. The guys in
charge signed off on the request, but that’s not why he’d recruited her. She
was a naval aviator and had trained on large cargo aircraft. Charlie Group had
needed a pilot, and they got one.

The Villegas
brothers were from Southern California. Dark, lean, and mean Marine Corps
reservists doing a nine-month tour in Kuwait during the fall, they had managed
to escape deep into the desert during the first days. They had survived for
weeks on their own before being spotted by a low-flying observation plane. Now
they were designated rifleman in Charlie Group. Quiet, tough, and reliable was
how they were described.

The last three
members of Charlie Group were plucked from the top of a Bradley fighting
vehicle in the dunes of Saudi Arabia. Sergeant Hahn, Corporal Parker, and
Specialist Theo had been cavalry scouts assigned to an armored cavalry
regiment. The scouts had fought a rolling retreat all the way from central
Iraq. Tip of the spear. Lead vehicles in a massive convoy which had been
rolling south towards the southern border. During an intense late night
engagement, a fuel vehicle had bogged down on a bridge. They had pulled into a
defensive perimeter and called the recovery vehicles forward, fighting wave
after wave as the combat engineers attempted to clear the route. A lot of
people and ammunition were lost in the failed effort. The more the soldiers
fought, the more primals were attracted in. Vehicle crews ran out of ammunition
and a means to fight back, then their fuel tanks had run dry. In the early
morning hours, crews on the south side of the bridge were ordered by the
officer in charge to continue the withdrawal and move towards the Saudi border,
while vehicles to the north would search for a new route. Vehicles broke out of
the defensive formations and scrambled to escape the primal mobs. Hahn’s
Bradley was down to a driver and gunner; he had lost all of his dismounts early
in the battle. Hahn commanded his vehicle south, fighting his way through the
desert. In the chaos, they became separated from the rest. Radios were stormed
with panicked traffic. Without the support of the convoy, their vehicle ran out
of fuel and they became stranded and alone, lost in the Saudi desert. Sergeant
Hahn and his men were rescued two days later.

The back portion
of tent six contained a makeshift ready room: a small table surrounded by
cobbled-together benches. When Brad filed into the tent, he found most of
Charlie Group already assembled in the briefing area. He was surprised to see
Chelsea, Nelson, and Craig occupying a bench near the back of the space. Brooks
had followed in behind Brad, and stood next to a pole that supported the weight
of the tent.

Sean and Gunner
entered the room through a side door, causing everyone to suddenly cease
conversations and take their seats. Gunner took a seat near the table and Sean
found a seat near him.  Even though they all shared a common goal in getting
back to the States, Gunner had decided early on that he would keep everyone in
the dark until they reached the drop zone. Operational security had to be tight
for everything to succeed.

Gunner pulled a
sheet off the table, uncovering a map underneath. “Hope everyone is rested up,
we have a big op planned for tomorrow. I gather everyone has met the new
members of Charlie Group. These guys have a lot of experience on the ground with
screamers; experience we can use. Also, tomorrow’s mission will be augmented
with the Marines.

“They are
mechanics and electricians. We are tasked with trying to locate and recover
working generators. The wrench turners will help, so let’s not get them killed
right off.”

Hahn raised his
hand and gave Gunner a cold stare, “Excuse me Gunner, but how in the hell are
we supposed to kill screamers while we are babysitting these kids?”

“Fair enough
question, Hahn. We’ll split into two, six-man teams for tomorrow. You six will
run the same as always, as the Alpha element. Chief Rogers will take his people
and the techs as Bravo element. I’ll stay in command.”

Gunner pointed
to a spot on the map overlay. ”We’re going to drop in on the roof of this large
office structure. From there, we’ll run a standard perimeter and observation
post, before we branch out on our search recons. We’ll have approximately one
hundred and eighty minutes on the ground. Pickup will be on the same rooftop.”

Hahn again
raised his hand. “Pops, what’s the alternate rally and pickup point in case
things go bad?” 

“So glad you
asked that, Sergeant Hahn,” Gunner said, as he used his grease marker to circle
a section on the far corner of the map. “This is plan B, it’s an airport. If
the shit hits the fan, we will roll hard to the alternate pickup point.”

“Pops, that’s
damn near five clicks through open terrain! One hell of a hump if we’re in
active retreat,” Hahn said.

“True story;
thank you for recognizing the risk for us. I want all of you to memorize this
map and possible routes to plan B. Sergeant Hahn makes a good point about the
dangers, so let’s take double ammo and rations tomorrow just in case,” Gunner
said to the moans of the others.

“Damn Pops,
double ammo and rations? That’s a lot of gear to hump,” the elder Villegas,
Daniel, protested.

The younger
Villegas, Joey, let out a deep laugh, “Shoot, big brother, if it’s too much for
your old ass, I’ll carry your shit for you.”

“Yo shut up man,
I’ll carry my own shit!” Daniel snapped back.

“Okay, okay,
that’s enough, get your stuff together. Everyone on the road tomorrow at zero
three. That is all.” Gunner said.

The room fell to
silence as Gunner and Sean walked out of the tent. The rest of the members
gathered around the table, taking notes and drawing sketches of the objective.
Brad decided to avoid the crowd and went outside to grab some fresh air. He
went beyond the tents and walked the road toward the large camp.

Sensing he was
being followed, he turned back and saw Chelsea coming up behind him. He stopped
to wait up for her. “Can I join you, Sergeant Thompson?” she asked with humor
in her voice.

“You may,
Corporal Swanson,” he answered as they continued to walk the road.

“So Brad, what
the hell are we doing here? Do you know what is going on?” Chelsea asked.

Brad stopped and
looked behind him before answering her. “Chelsea, just relax and go with
things. We just got here. You’ll get adjusted to the routine.”

“I don’t care; I
didn’t sign up to be making garbage runs into cities. This isn’t my job. I just
want to get home. I don’t want to adjust, Brad.”

“Everyone wants
to get home, but for now this is the hand we have been dealt. Get your people
together. Inspect their gear and make sure they are ready for tomorrow’s
mission.”

“I’m not interested
in the mission, can’t they find someone else?”

“What did you
tell me back on the tower? You said don’t quit. So suck it up, Marine. I don’t
want to hear this bullshit out of you again. Do you understand?” Brad said, his
frustration growing. Not only with her attitude, but because he couldn’t tell
her the true objectives of the mission.

“Yes Sergeant!
Understood,” Chelsea said before she turned to walk away, but not before Brad
saw the hurt in her expression.