Land of the Dead (Book 1): Infected (11 page)

“Tawaqqaf hunak. Waqf 'aw sawf tabadul li'iitlaq alnnar . Hal 'ant ghawl?”

Dillon almost laughed. He could see two armored personnel carriers now, perhaps a hundred feet away. There were two DSHK heavy machineguns leveled at Dillon and his group. The Egyptian soldiers manning the checkpoint had been smart enough to send a soldier down the small hill to the group, so as not to have to shout. But what Dillon really found funny was that the Egyptian soldier, in addition to telling him to stop, had asked him if he was a ghoul.

“Basha, Ana last ghawl . Ana ln 'atahaddath maeak 'iidha kunet. Ana min alssifarat al'amrikia . Daeuna fi , eam bik yutawaqqae minna.” was Dillon’s response.
(I am not a ghoul, I would not be talking to you if I was. I am from the American Embassy. Let us in, your general is expecting us.)

Dillon knew that playing the rude, impatient American was the way to impress upon these soldiers just how important he was. In Egypt, the most powerful of people had no respect or kindness for those under them.

“I don’t believe you. Why should we let you in. You may be carrying the disease.”

“We aren’t carrying the disease. We are carrying the cure. We have some for the general and his staff, but I think we have some extra for you. We don’t have time to waste. Let us through and we will give you some.”

“I think you are in no position to bargain, my western friend. Give us the cure or we will shoot.”

“I don’t think you want to shoot, my friend. The machineguns are very loud, and the noise would attract the ghouls. You can see with your own eyes what happened at Cairo International. Besides, firing those machineguns at us would destroy the cure.”

The soldier looked pissed that he had been unable to pressure Dillon. Dillon had seen this act in a half-dozen countries, and it was always the same. Posturing and bullying would only stop if you stood your ground on the important things.

Finally, the soldier made an angry clicking noise with his mouth and trudged up the hill to talk to his people in whispered tones. As he did, Dillon took aim on the gunner hanging out of the turret on the right vehicle.

“Talbot, aim down on the left gunner. I think we just bargained our way inside in trade for giving these guys the cure. Just in case, though, be ready.”

After a minute or so, the soldier walked back down the hill, hands in his pockets.

“I am Rashid.” He said in fairly decent English. “We want the medicine.”

“We will pass first, then give it to you.”

“Okay. Good deal.”

Dillon took the opportunity to do a head count as everyone passed between the two armored vehicles. So far, he hadn’t lost anyone. Then, he looked at Doc and said, “Give it to them.”

Doc spent five minutes giving each of them a shot. Dillon noticed that Doc used the same needle each time. As they walked away and towards the main gate of Cairo West Airbase, Dillon turned to Doc and asked “What was that about?”

“I only have thirty doses of the vaccine, and they are going to be the most valuable things we have when we get to our evacuation point. Besides, these soldiers out here aren’t going to make it.”

“They’re a speed bump.” Dillon said, agreeing.

“Exactly. So, I gave them all saline. Are you ready to go?”

“Wow, Doc. Just….wow.”

“I know. I even surprised myself with this.”

“Right. Let’s go.”

The airbase was a quiet hum. A captain controlling the main gate decided to let them in after a bit of negotiation, but acted like it was killing him to do so. It looked like there was most of a mechanized infantry brigade on the perimeter, but things inside were chaotic enough that nobody stopped them as they headed towards the northwest hangar complex. That was where the U.S. contractors worked, and where the Osprey’s would be coming in. As they moved through the airbase, the number of civilians sheltering within was alarming. The infection surely had to already be inside the perimeter. Dillon told everyone to be on their guard and moved as fast as he could until he saw the first Americans standing behind two hastily constructed rows of chain link fence.

“Hey, you must be Mr. Shay.” said the long haired guy with the M-4 at the ready. He had a full beard and wore his hair in a ponytail under a non-descript ball cap. Everything about him screamed Blackwater.

“Sure am. Do I know you?”

“I think we played around in the same sandbox a few times. You were SF, right? 5
th
Group?”

“Yah, 2
nd
Battalion. You?”

“Second as well, Echo Company.” He said, opening up the gate.

“Bravo. How many guys you have here?”

“Three. I was the guard force commander. My deputy and my logistics guy are here, too. The locals guards…well, they stopped showing up to work.”

“I know the feeling. I can’t blame them. How are the landlords?”

“The Egyptian Army? They ain’t half bad. Of course, when those C-130s land, the general is going to want a ride. I suspect you’ll have to give him one, since it will take twenty minutes or more to land them, get them loaded, and take off.”

“The plan has changed. They’re sending three Ospreys. We’ll be up and out before they know it.”

“That’ll work. Got room for six more?”

“Six? I thought you only had three?”

“Three from BW, another three techs that were working on helicopter avionics.”

“We have room.” Dillon said, hoping.

“Well, we’ll squeeze on somehow. My name’s Jimmy.”

“Dillon.”

The two men shook hands, but Dillon had the idea that Jimmy would kill for a seat on one of those Ospreys. It took most of an hour to get everyone into three lines; one per arriving Osprey. Dillon hoped it would expedite loading. Hannah and Mikey were going to be on the first Osprey.

The birds came in fast. Osprey’s are like that.

Dillon had everyone clustered in three lines, though they had started to blur into one gaggle within a half hour. The Ospreys were loud, and kicked up a lot of dust as they came in.

The beautiful thing about Ospreys is they land like a helicopter but fly like a plane. It allowed the Osprey to land, or take off, from places a plane couldn’t. They couldn’t hold nearly as much cargo, or personnel, as a C-130, but they definitely had their uses. Dillon saw the ramps come down and the crew chiefs hop out. They had M-240 machineguns mounted in the rear, which told Dillon they were U.S. Marine Marine Corps birds. That was good news. The Marine Ospreys were more reliable, and their pilots had more experience. The bad news struck Dillon like a lightning bolt. There were only TWO birds.

The closest crew chief was motioning towards the group, urging them to start boarding the first Osprey. Dillon watched as Jimmy and his contractors took their place at the ramp. They were providing security, but they had made it clear that they were boarding. The second Osprey’s crew chief motioned for boarding to start, and Dillon made sure more people started loading. The three lines had become two groups. Everyone wasn’t going to get on. They had a total of 82 passengers to get on two Ospreys that held 24 passengers each. The noise prevented all semblance of coordination. Worse yet, it seemed like the Egyptian Army had decided to visit.

Dillon cringed as the Egyptian vehicles rolled through the chain link fence. Somewhere, a shot was fired. Had it come from the Egyptians or from one of Dillon’s people? Regardless, the first bird started to close ramp and lift off. Dillon saw Mikey out of the corner of his eye and moved to him, pulling him close so the people moving from the first Osprey to the second wouldn’t trample him. He couldn’t find Hannah. He picked up Mikey and began running towards the other bird. More shots rang out, and the second Osprey’s gunner opened up on the Egyptian trucks.

Dillon ran away from the aircraft. Those running toward it started dropping. Anyone between the second Osprey and the distant Egyptian vehicles was in the middle of the crossfire. All Dillon knew was that Mikey was safe and he had to make him safer. As both of the birds lifted off, he kept running, knowing that nothing in the immediate area was heavy enough cover to stop the kind of rounds that were flying. Dillon ran until he was reached the back of a hangar. There was nowhere left to run. He turned his flashlight on and used it, and his hands, to check Mikey for holes. Mikey was shaking, but alright.

“You’re alright, you’re alright.” Dillon said, hugging him tightly. The sound of gunfire had died down outside. He knew he had to find a way out quickly. The Egyptians would be looting this place soon enough, and wouldn’t be kind to any American’s they found. Dillon heard a noise and raised his rifle in his right hand. It was Jimmy, holding one hand in the air.

“Jimmy, we need to get out of here.”

“Yep. There’s a door cut into the hangar back in the break room. It leads outside the fence.”

“Thank God for poor security decisions.”

“Yah, the locals like to smoke but know we won’t let them do it in the hangar or on the tarmac.”

“What’s happening out there?”

“Looks like the Egyptian’s are rounding up your people and shooting them.”

Dillon let go of Mikey and performed a quick function check on his weapon. He did it out of habit, as he hadn’t fired a single round yet.

“Boss, you don’t want to go out there. There’s at least fifty of those boys, and just two of us.”

Dillon knew Jimmy was right. He didn’t have to like it.

“Besides, you have to take care of this little man. This your boy?”

“Yah, this is Mikey. I need to see if Hannah…my wife…made it on board.”

Jimmy gave a wry smile. “That cute little thing with the medical bag? I was hoping she was single. I helped her up onto the ramp right before the shooting started. She looked pretty frantic, but the crew chief was pulling her into a seat and strapping her in himself. She’s okay.”

“Thank God.” Dillon said, fighting back tears. “You hear that, Mikey, your mom got out okay.”

“I left her to come looking for you. I didn’t want you to get left behind.”

“Well, now we’ve both been left behind, so we’re going to have us an adventure.”

“We sure are.” said Jimmy. “For now, though, I think we need to find a hole and hide in it.”

“Well, we need to hide or run. Do you have a place in mind?”

“I just might. I know this corner of the airbase better than those Egyptians do. There’s an old bunker under this building – we kept it up just in case.”

“Lead the way, Jimmy.”

A trapdoor led down a ladder about ten feet. The walls were bare, but the place was larger than Dillon expected. There were three rooms, each about ten by thirty feet. Jimmy quickly found a number of battery-powered lamps and lit the central room up.

“Any reason we shouldn’t look around?”

“Nope. This place is safe enough.”

“Great.” Dillon turned to Mikey. “Hey, how about you and I start the adventure by checking this bunker out.”

That seemed to shake a bit of the shock off of Mikey, and he smiled at the prospect. “With you, right?” he said, wary to walk around alone.

“Of course.” Dillon grabbed one of the lamps and started with the room on the left. It was full of old metal shelves, partially rusted but still sturdy. They held box upon box of MREs. Dillon handed the lamp to Mikey and clicked on his flashlight.

“I wonder how old these are. Here we go. This top shelf is four years old.”

“The bottom shelf is from 1995, dad.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to risk eating anything in those. The pound cake and freeze dried fruit might be okay, but I wouldn’t risk the entre. But these, up here, I think they’ll be just fine.” Dillon put his flashlight away and grabbed a box from the top shelf. “Hey Jimmy, where’s the bottled water, and how old is it?”

“I just grabbed a case. It’s about four years old or so. We stored it on cardboard to keep it from touching the concrete, so it’s good.”

“Okay then. We eat and then we make a plan.” Dillon opened the cardboard box and pulled out a packet. “Ravioli?”

“Sure.” Mikey said.

“Jimmy, you have a preference?”

“It all makes a turd, boss. I’ll take anything except maple sausage. Maple and tabasco just don’t mix.”

“Beef Brisket.” Dillon said, tossing a packet to Jimmy.

“Gracias.”

“Normally, I’d rat-fuck the box at this point, but I’m going to take whatever I pull out of the box, just to keep if fun.” Dillon enjoyed the laugh that his comment elicited from Mikey, who wasn’t used to hearing him swear. “And the winner is…..Chili Mac!”

“Lucky bastard. I love Chili Mac.”

The laughing died down rather quickly as soon as they started eating. There was nothing like adrenaline to make you hungry, and Dillon didn’t know when he would be able to sit and eat again. Ten minutes later, however, they were all finishing up, and Jimmy brought the question up.

“So, what’s the plan, boss? I don’t think driving across the desert is a good idea. There’s nothing between us and Marsa Matrouh, and there isn’t much there if we get there.”