Up From the Depths (22 page)

Chapter 49

Joint Base Lewis/McChord (JBLM), Washington

“Texas-6, Raven-6, we have an asset in the area. Can you contain the hostiles?” Holroyd’s radio asked. He thought for a few seconds before responding.

“Unknown, Raven-6. I’ll come up with something,” Holroyd replied.

“Copy Texas-6, when you do, mark your target and get clear,” Cascade directed.

“Texas-6 copies all,” Holroyd replied before he switched channels back to his unit.

“Head to the Soldier’s Field House!” Holroyd radioed as he watched the seemingly never ending flow of infected that poured from every building they passed.

Turning onto 2nd Division Drive, the gun trucks moved deeper into JBLM. Using the straight road to increase speed, they soon left the infected behind. Turning into the parking lot of the SFH, Holroyd called a stop then directed his driver to the far end of the asphalt expanse. The wooded area that served as a hiking/biking/cross-country running course was fenced from the airfield but had a maintenance gate.

“Get the gate open. I need volunteers to stay behind and close it,” Holroyd directed.

Two soldiers ran to the gate, one carrying bolt cutters while the other provided cover. Pushing the gate open the two soldiers stepped aside and let the vehicles move through.

“We’ll stay back, captain,” one of the soldiers offered while his partner nodded agreement.

“Find someplace to hunker down and wait for the infected to pass then close the gate,” Holroyd explained.

The soldier gave him thumbs up before both of them ran over and began checking the civilian cars in the lot for one that was open. Holroyd had his driver park in the gate entrance, engine running while he waited for the infected to make an appearance.

He didn’t have to wait long.

The lopers came first with their unusual gait followed by others who moved almost as fast. Then the main body swept into the parking lot. Upton fired into the large concentration before Holroyd directed his driver to move out. They kept their speed down to keep the infected interested in them.

Feeling a little like a macabre pied piper, Holroyd watched as the infected seemed more coordinated meaning there were ones that moved faster than the rest. This appeared to encourage the slower ones to keep following. Enticing the horde out onto the runway, he was able to see the end of the swarm pass through the gates at SFH.

“Now! Close the gates!” he radioed back to the two men who had stayed behind.

He couldn’t see the men move but he saw the gates swing shut. “Get in your hide site, we’ll circle around and pick you up,” he radioed back as his driver increased speed, cut across the runways and headed for the gate by the tower.

The other gun trucks had already passed through the gate and were waiting for him. Roaring through the open gate, he ordered a stop then looked back. The infected were still shuffling towards him but now seemed confused. With the gates closed, they were confined to the airfield, a large open area with limited access to the hangars and other support structures. Holroyd breathed a sigh of relief. He knew that the other gates were still secure; they had been that way since the military had evacuated.

“Raven-6, Texas-6, we are marking the target now,” Holroyd radioed back to Cascade.

Soldiers tossed smoke grenades as far over the fence as possible while others unrolled bright orange marker panels and strapped them down on the roofs of their vehicles.

“Texas-6, Spooky-Five-One, I see red smoke,” a new voice stated in his radio.

“Copy that, red smoke,” Holroyd said wondering who this new call sign was.

“Texas-6, what is your location?” the voice asked.

“Spooky Five-One, we are south, southwest 1000 meters from smoke,” Holroyd stated.

“Spooky copies, coming in hot,” the voice announced.

“Bring on the rain, Spooky,” Holroyd muttered.

The sound of propellers could be heard making several of the men look up at the overcast sky. A four-engine, high-wing, large tailed aircraft dropped below the gray clouds and leveled off over the airfield.

The AC-130J ‘Spectre’ gunship banked partially on its left side and unleashed the massive firepower that it contained on the infected. Circling the airfield, the gunship laid waste to the occupants within the fence line. Mini-guns, Vulcan cannons, automatic grenade launchers and a M102 Howitzer decimated the savage horde. The gunship circled once more over the field then climbed back into the clouds.

“Texas-6, Spooky Five-One, how copy?” a voice drawled in Holroyd’s headset.

“Spooky Five-One, Texas-6, thanks for the assist,” Holroyd replied

“Copy that, Texas, always a pleasure to put all this hardware to good use,” the voice said.

“Spooky Five-One, where’d you come from?” Holroyd asked.

“Long story there, Texas-6. Come on over to Fairchild some time and we’ll tell you all about it,” the pilot of the heavily armed aircraft offered.

“Copy that Spooky Five-One, look forward to it,” Holroyd said.

“Spooky Five-One is RTB, call us anytime. You all have a nice day, Texas,” the aircraft commander said as he brought the AC-130 below the clouds, overflew the SOF convoy and waggled his wings before he climbed back above the clouds and turned towards eastern Washington.

As the convoy left the smoking and devastated airfield and headed back towards 2nd Division Drive to recover the two Special Forces operators that they had been left behind, Holroyd thought about future supply missions to the installation. With luck, this was the largest horde of the infected that had been on post. Now that a vast majority had been removed, it would make foraging for supplies a little easier. A flare of light, like that off of a rifle scope drew his attention to the far end of the airfield. He brought up his binoculars and scanned the area but didn’t see anything. It was probably a shard of glass reflecting back the sun that had finally poked its way through the cloud cover.

***

Chapter 50

Site R, Raven Rock Military Complex (RRMC)

“Mr. President?” Erwin Grayson said from the doorway. Wood looked up from holding his wife. He had been hugging her since she had squeezed his hand, afraid to let her go.

“Sir, Mr. Dunlavy has an update,” Grayson stated. Wood nodded, kissed Dana on the forehead then slowly and gently laid her back down on the bed.

Amelia Warren, who had been hovering nearby, moved quickly to check on her patient. Wood stood, wiped his eyes then walked to the door. Mike Dunlavy stood in the hall surrounded by Secret Service agents.

“Sir, the Alaskan phase of the operation has been completed. The installation has been neutralized and our teams are now searching for documents and other materials that may help us,” Dunlavy stated. “One other matter… we now know who did this to us. Or rather, who had a part in it.”

Wood focused his attention on Dunlavy.

“Who was it?” he asked half expecting to hear a foreign name.

“Nathan Conley sir,” Dunlavy answered.

“What?” Wood asked in disbelief, looking at the DIS man. “Are you sure?”

“Yes sir, it’s been tentatively confirmed at this time,” Dunlavy replied. “We’re waiting for positive confirmation but it looks like he might have financed the research and helped plan the outbreak. More information is forth coming.”

“Son of a bitch,” Wood muttered. “Make sure that the team brings him back for questioning.”

Conley had been to several White House functions and dinners. He had been a staunch supporter for pollution control legislation, was the head of several nature conservatory organizations and a multi-millionaire. There had been several people at the cabinet level that were or had been connected to Conley. Wood shook his head, closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose before he let out a deep breath.

“Yes sir, I’ll pass that along,” Dunlavy stated.

“What’s the status of Crockett’s ground element?”

“They’re almost at their objective. The last contact we had with them stated they were less than an hour away from their objective,” Dunlavy said.

“Thank you and keep me informed,” Wood said before he turned to go back to his wife. He turned as one of the aides came in and handed him a folder.

“Mr. President, NORAD is reporting more nuclear detonations in Asia and Europe.”

Wood took the folder from the aide and started to read.

“Son of a bitch,” he repeated.

***

Chapter 51

New York City

Luzetski reloaded his rifle as he watched the two medics work on Pruitt. Blood was already pooling on the poncho that Sierra-3’s marksman lay on top of still strapped to his stretcher. For some reason, Ski was fixated on watching the blood move back and forth as the LAV maneuvered around abandoned vehicles. There was something about how the liquid sloshed in the depressions of the poncho. His fixation was interrupted as the armored vehicle came to an abrupt stop. Gunnery Sergeant Frazier dropped down from his position and removed his CVC helmet.

“Why’d we stop?” Doyle asked.

“End of the road,” Frazier said as he stepped over and around the passengers squeezed into the troop compartment and pulled the rear ramp release.

Once the ramp dropped, he stepped out snagging his rifle along the way. DeMillio and the other Marines and civilians that had been riding on the top of the LAV were already assembling with the military personnel forming a perimeter. Graham and the Marine corpsman, Fahey, along with two other Marines, carried Pruitt’s stretcher outside. Ski and Doyle followed and once outside the vehicle, looked around. They were stopped at the ferry dock. In the distance they could see Governor’s Island and what Frazier had referred to as the Drift Fleet. Wallowing in the water, and exceedingly overloaded was a New York City Harbor Patrol boat. The boat was packed with civilians, with more still on the dock trying to push their way onboard. The majority of the passengers still waiting to board were children.

“We can’t take anymore!” a sailor yelled out as more civilians tried to squeeze in. Ski looked at the mix of uniforms already onboard and looked over at Doyle then DeMillio. The Marine officer drew his sidearm and fired it into the air.

“All US Military personnel! Un-ass that boat right fucking now!” A dead silence ensued. One soldier brought up his rifle and pointed it at DeMillio. A shot rang out and that soldier dropped over the side of the boat and into the water. Ski looked over at Doyle. Her rifle up to her shoulder and still smoking.

“Anyone else want to fuck with me?” DeMillio yelled out. Several of the soldiers hung their heads and began moving towards the dock where they climbed off the boat and stood in a group.

“All right! Listen up fucktards! You apparently seemed to have forgotten that you’re soldiers in the United States Military. Our job is to protect non-combatants and ensure their safety. Some of you start helping these civilians onboard. The rest of you move your sorry butts over here,” DeMillio directed.

The soldiers split up with some helping the children and remaining civilians onboard while the others moved off to stand a short distance away nervously casting glances at the approaching firestorm and at DeMillio, not knowing which was more dangerous.

When the civilians had been loaded and the boat struggled to move away from the docks, DeMillio turned and looked at the group that was left. There was a mix of ragged civilians and military personnel.

“Listen up! Know this. You wear the flag you sure as shit ain’t leaving this place before all the civilians are evacuated. We’re holding this position for as long as it’s tenable and probably after it isn’t. There will be another boat along in a few minutes to evacuate us,” DeMillio said to the soldiers who just minutes prior had been trying to bully their way onto a civilian transport.

“Gunny! Get these civilians someplace safe. Square these detached assholes away and start distributing ammunition. I want a defensive perimeter along the walking path. Nothing gets past us. The LAV in the center so the Bushmaster can cover both flanks,” DeMillio said. He then nodded to Doyle and Ski and indicated that they step away so they could have a private discussion.

“We know there isn’t going to be another boat,” DeMillio said quietly. “We’re here for the duration.” He looked over at the fire storm that was engulfing Manhattan. “However long that may be.”

“Ski, I’m sorry about your man,” DeMillio said before he removed a map and began studying their location.

Luzetski nodded then looked over to at Graham who was checking Pruitt.

“I can deal with it. So can my team,” Ski said. “We’re big boys and we play by big boy rules.”

“Where’s my rifle?” he heard Pruitt ask as the injured man regained consciousness.

Gunnery Sergeant Griser walked over and stood just outside the small circle. DeMillio looked up at his arrival and nodded.

“Gunny,” he said. “How’s it look?”

“Sir, it looks like a great big shit sandwich and we’re all going to take a bite, sir.”

“Outstanding,” DeMillio said. “Let’s make sure we’re all in the chow line then, oorah?” He nodded to Doyle and Luzetski before he walked off, map in hand, to check his men.

Ski looked at Doyle and saw the uncertainty in her eyes. He could already feel the heat from the burning city behind them. He put his hand on her arm then leaned in closer. His lips met hers and they kissed, tentatively at first then eager and feverishly. Tracing a line from her mouth to her ear, Ski could taste her sweat.

“How long have you known,” he whispered into her ear. She pulled away and looked up at him, her eyes full of love and brimming with tears.

“Since the first day we met.”

He pulled her close and held her, wanting to remember this moment for as long as possible. A sound echoing across the water brought his attention to the channel. A RHIB, Rigid Hull Inflatable Boat, was skimming across the waves heading straight for them.

They both turned and looked at the small watercraft as it slowed and coasted to a stop at the base of the ferry dock.

“You should go,” Ski said.

“What about you?” Doyle asked looking up at him

“I’ll be along shortly,” Ski said, trying to comfort her but knowing his words held no truth.

“Gunnery Sergeant Griser!” DeMillio called out. “Get the wounded and the last of these civilians onboard!’

“Aye, aye, sir!” Griser called out.” You heard the man! Get those wounded onboard now!”

Graham stood aside as two Marines picked up Pruitt’s stretcher and carried it to the dock.

“Goddamnit! Put me down! I’m not going anywhere! I need my rifle!” Pruitt yelled. The Marines ignored him and continued to the edge of the pier. Pruitt grabbed his knife and cut the straps holding him to the stretcher then tried to get up. Graham pushed him back down and held him as he struggled.

“Stop it! You’re going to start bleeding!”

“I’m not leaving my team!” Pruitt shouted.

Luzetski jogged over and grabbed his team’s marksman by the shoulders.

“Pruitt! Stop!”

Pruitt stopped moving and looked at Ski.

“I’m not leaving you guys behind, Ski! I’m not,” Pruitt said, his eyes brimming with unshed tears that he was leaving his comrades behind.

“You’re not leaving us. You’re doing me a favor.”

Pruitt looked at him in confusion.

“What?” he asked.

Ski reached back and grabbed Doyle, pulling her to the stretcher.

“Warrant Officer Doyle has important information for the Admiral of the fleet. It’s imperative that she reach him. Sergeant, I’m entrusting you with the task of keeping her alive. Are you able to accomplish this task?”

Pruitt looked at Luzetski, trying to focus through the fog of pain medication and blood loss, then at Doyle then back.

“Hoo-ah.”

“Are you sure?” Ski asked.

“Hoo-ah! I’m STRAC!” Pruitt yelled as he reached up and gripped Luzetski’s hand tightly.

Ski nodded, squeezed Pruitt’s hand then turned to Doyle, gripping her arms and looking at her.

“Go. Now.”

Doyle nodded and wiped her eyes. She looked one last time at the soldiers and Marines then climbed down into the inflatable and made room for the litter bearers to lower Pruitt. He was drifting in and out of consciousness but still flashed thumbs up at Ski. Graham looked at his team NCO.

“We won’t need a medic. You take care of Pruitt. He needs you more than we will,” Ski said. Graham stared at Luzetski for several seconds then his eyes hardened and he nodded. He wordlessly handed over all the full magazines he had left then climbed onboard the RHIB without looking back. The remaining civilians climbed aboard and eagerly found somewhere they could sit.

“Go! Get out of here!” Ski yelled, stuffing Graham’s magazines into his vest pouches as the boat backed away from the dock, pivoted, and headed towards Governor’s Island.

Ski watched the inflatable grow smaller and smaller then turned away.

“Jiminez! Get those comms up!” he called out as he ejected the magazine from his rifle, looked at it, tapped it in the palm of his hand and slapped it back in place. Jacking back the charging handle, he turned to face the infected that were moving in on them.

He watched the flames leap high into the air as the firestorm consumed everything combustible in its path. Sporadic firing broke out from the left flank as the infected began to probe their defensive line. The firestorm was pushing the Zulus towards them. Like frightened animals in the midst of a forest fire, the infected wanted to get away from the flames. There was little in the way of obstacles to block the flow. Some garbage cans, a few park benches, empty ammo crates that appeared from somewhere, and the LAV.

“Jiminez! I need those comms up!” Ski yelled as he watched more and more infected move towards them until it was a solid wall of Zulus.

“Blackbird, Blackbird, Sierra-3 Actual.” Ski said over the firing of the soldiers and Marines trying desperately to hold back the tide of the undead.

“Sierra-3 Actual, Blackbird.”

“Blackbird, popping smoke to mark targets. Danger close.”

“Sierra-3, Blackbird copies. Watching for smoke.”

Ski looked over at DeMillio who nodded and removed a smoke grenade from his vest, pulled the pin and threw the canister as far as he could into the multitude of infected. The pyrotechnic bounced off the head of a Zulu before falling to the ground where it began to spew its contents.

“Blackbird, Sierra-3, do you see smoke?”

“Sierra-3 Blackbird, I have red smoke.”

Luzetski looked at Jiminez, DeMillio, and then at all the soldiers and Marines engaging the infected that were almost to their defensive line. Among the infected he saw uniforms, fellow soldiers and Marines that had been turned. He hoped it didn’t get to the point of hand to hand.

“Blackbird, Sierra-3, confirm red smoke. Expend all ordnance on that smoke, Blackbird.”

“Blackbird copies all. Coming in hot.”

Luzetski dropped the handset, went to one knee and fired into a flaming infected that was shambling towards him. He heard the roar of the MC-130 overhead as he continued firing.

“Fix bayonets!” DeMillio yelled as he fitted the edged weapon to the end of his rifle. Looking over at Ski he asked, “You know what sucks?”

“Tell me,” Ski said as he fired into the mass of infected that were straining against the skirmish line.

“I paid for my fortune to be told a few years back.”

“Yeah?”

“Bitch told me I’d die in bed. With a blonde.”

“Not a bad way to go,” Ski admitted.

“Should get my money back. Looks like I’m going to buy it with you assholes,” DeMillio said over the firing and the overhead rumble of the C-130.

The GBU-43/B MOAB detonated several hundred yards away. Luzetski thought of a phrase he had once heard, ‘Death or Glory’.
How fitting.
There was an intense heat wave and a fleeting sensation of flying then nothing more. A few minutes later, a B-52 high over Manhattan Island released its special weapon. A heavy bass thud followed by a crackle and intense light struck as the first tactical nuclear warhead detonated on Manhattan Island.

***

On the RHIB, the coxswain cut the engine.

“Face away from the island and close your eyes tight. The flash is not your friend,” he directed as he hunched into a tight ball and covered his face with his hands.
Oh God, this better work.

Doyle and Graham dropped over Pruitt and covered him. Tears flowed from her eyes and fell onto the wounded man beneath her.

“Brace!” the coxswain called out as the shockwave rolled over them. The massive windstorm rocked the boat then dissipated. The coxswain restarted the engine and continued towards the island. Doyle looked back at the mushroom cloud that rose up over the center of the Manhattan, tears streaking her face.

***