Only the Dead Live Forever (5 page)

9.

Brad was in the
first floor lounge helping the Marines pile furniture against the doors. They
had slid the heavy pool table against them and piled chairs (and anything else
they could lift) on top of it. They didn’t think the primals could breach the
fire doors, but why take risks if they didn’t have to? Swanson was getting the
men into position. Sean had put the corporal in charge of the Marine privates,
and she had excelled at the position.

“You ready,
Swanson?”

“Yeah Sergeant,
we got this, you just tell us when and we’ll make a heck of a racket. You guys
just make sure and kill all of them.”

Brad pulled her
aside, away from the other Marines. “It won’t happen, but if they somehow
breach, make sure you get all of your people pulled back into the hallway
before you seal the second doors. I know you of all people understand that.”

“Yeah,
understood Sergeant; and you’re right, that’s not going to happen.”

“Okay, we got a
deal. I’m going to take Walkens up with me. When we’re in position, I’ll send
him back down to indicate it’s time to party.”

Brad looked
around the room one last time. The Marines had done well with the barricades;
they had cut pipes to bang together as noise makers. He saw a large radio
sitting on a bench.

“Hey, where did
you all find that?”

Wilson grinned,
holding up the old boom box. “I found this old piece of junk in the janitor’s
closet. Has a cassette tape in it, figured if the batteries work, we can turn
it up as loud as it’ll go.  Worth a shot, right?”

“Good thinking
Wilson! Alright Devil Dogs, if everyone is feeling hooah, hooah, I’m going to
head up top and get ready to kick this thing off.”

“Ooorah!
Sergeant!” the Marines shouted.

“Damn, y’all are
about as hard as woodpecker lips.” Brad laughed as he made his way up to the
roof being tailed by Walkens.

Brad found the
ladder to the roof maintenance hatch and climbed his way to the platform that
rested below the helipad. He found Brooks and Sean perched on an overlook. There
were safety lines tied off to piping, and Brad clipped himself in. He
approached Sean at the edge of the roof and took a knee.

“Okay Brad, I
want you to engage the targets in front of the door. Keep an eye on those
stairs leading to the helipad. We don’t want them getting above us. Make sure
nothing gets in. I’m going to take long shots of opportunity anywhere they pop
up. Brooks is on the other side of the roof. He will clear out the storage deck
and concentrate his fire on the stairs going down to the second deck.”

“Okay, I think I
can handle that,” Brad said.

“And another
thing … be damn sure of what you are shooting at. We
are
on an oil rig;
I don’t want to light this thing up and become a crispy critter,” Sean
finished.

When everyone
was in position, Brad yelled to Walken to get back downstairs and tell Swanson
that it was ‘go time’. They heard him running through the hallway below. Brad
pulled his rifle into his shoulder and started searching the darkness. He took
deep breaths to relax himself as he ran through his pre-combat checks.

The sun had just
set; he could just make out a few figures walking the decks with his naked eye.
His night vision was powered up and working perfectly. He pulled them down, and
watched the deck light up into green and blacks. The rain was still coming
down, but the lightning was far off and the winds had subsided.

Brad was sitting
in a good firing position when he started hearing the clanging of bars and
pounding against the walls downstairs. Then they heard a loud DONNNNNG! DONNNNNG!
DONNNNNG! “What the hell is that?” Sean asked.

“I don’t know,
man, but the primals are waking up … I see them climbing the stairs,” Brooks
called out.

The DONNNNNG! DONNNNNG!
continued and was now joined by an electric guitar solo. Brad smiled. “Oh, shit!
I think Wilson’s boom box works; sounds like he’s playing us some AC/DC
tonight!”

They could just
make out the lyrics of ‘Hells Bells’ as the first of the primals began moaning.
Soon the platform was thundering with the sounds of primals and AC/DC.

“I'm rolling
thunder, pouring rain”

“I have heavy
contacts … They’re rushing up the steps. I won’t be able to hold them all!”
Brooks shouted.

 “I’m coming on
like a hurricane”

Brad heard the
report of Brook’s M14 rifle launching the heavy 7.62 rounds. The primals were
charging down the walkway. Sean’s rifle joined the chorus and Brad watched the
numbers thin as the mass moved towards the doors. He pulled the rifle tight,
and just before they got to the entrance, he took a deep breath and fired.

“I won't take no
prisoners, won't spare no lives”

Brad watched one
of the primals flinch and snap back, but another quickly took its place. He had
been cautioned early by Sean to not ‘double tap’ and to stay away from the
three-round burst. Ammo was now a precious commodity, so one shot/one kill was
the rule for this hunt. Brad tried to calm his nerves and make every shot
count.

He put his dot
on another creature, pulled back on the trigger, and felt the recoil. The
creature moved at the last second and the round impacted it high in the
shoulder. Brad cursed himself for the miss. He closed his eyes tight and then relaxed
his eye back on the scope. He found another target and put the dot at the base
of its neck, pulled the trigger, and watched it drop.

“I got my bell
I’m gonna take you to Hell; I’m gonna get ya Satan get ya”

They were now
massed heavily on the doors, pounding and screaming. Brad was picking out
targets and firing calmly as he tried to make every round count. Sean’s and
Brooks’ rifles barked in the target-rich environment. Brass was piling up
around all of them. Brad reached into his pack for a fresh magazine, let the
bolt go forward, and took up aim again.

He found one
that was pulling hard on the door’s handle, and dropped him quickly. He
searched for a new target and saw motion in his peripheral vision. A group of
them were now charging up the stairs to the helipad. He switched his position
and turned, firing rapidly to stop the creatures’ crude attempts at a flanking
maneuver. He knocked down the leaders who fell backwards, taking the others
with them.

“Hell’s bells,
you got me ringing, Hell’s bells”

Brad brought his
attention back to the door. The primals had forced a corner of the door back
and were pulling on it. There was a massive pile of dead in front of the
entrance that partially prevented them from being able to pull it open. Brad
saw sparks below that indicated the Marines were now firing through the door,
joining the fight.

“I’ll give you
black sensations up and down your spine”

The mass
withered. Sean’s rifle went silent; soon after Brooks halted as well. Brad
searched and scanned the pile below. Sean sounded off that his sector was
clear, and Brooks followed suit. Brad made another pass and was about to speak
when he saw movement at a corner. He focused his vision and saw the Alpha
leader they had spotted days earlier on the platform. Brad tried to pick up a
sight picture just as the Alpha disappeared.

“I’m clear but I
think one got away!” Brad shouted.

Sean made his
way to Brad’s position. “What do you mean … got away?”

“I don’t know
Sean, it’s like he … like he fell back … he … ahh … retreated,” Brad sputtered
in disbelief.

“What? They
don’t do that. These things are lemmings; they always rush to their death.”

“I’m telling you
Chief, it was the big leader from a few days ago! He was watching from around
that corner right there. Just as I got a bead on him, he tucked and
disappeared.”

“Shit, well if that’s
true, it makes things a bit more interesting.” Sean paused for a moment. “Okay,
nothing we can do about it now. Let’s get downstairs and check on the kids,” he
said as he started packing up his gear.

10.

Brad and Sean
made the walk downstairs together in search of the Marines. They found them in
the lounge. They were cheering and patting each other on the back. This was the
first victory they had achieved against the primals.

“We whooped them
good, Chief,” Walkens called out.

“Calm down hero,
we just shot a bunch a fish in a barrel, but yeah, you all did well.”

“Nahh Chief, you
don’t understand; those things chased our asses all the way out of Afghanistan.
We always been on the run from them. This is the first time we kicked their
asses.”

The Marines in
the room burst into cheers.

“What’s next
Chief, we going to assault the next deck?” Swanson asked.

“Alright,
everyone calm down. You guys kicked ass, I get that, and yeah, we took back
this deck … maybe. Let’s wait till first light. Once the sun comes up we’ll run
some recons and make sure we secured the deck,” Sean said.

“Screw that,
Chief, let’s do it now!” Wilson yelled.

Brooks walked
out of the hallway and took a seat on the pool table stacked against the doors.
“Y’all do realize we only dropped about seventy-five to a hundred of those
things just now, don’t ya? From what I understand there were five hundred
stationed here. Yeah, maybe the rest were able to evacuate, but I think I’d
rather wait until daylight to figure that out,” he said.

“Okay, okay, so
what we going to do till tomorrow, I’m all ramped up,” Walkens asked.

“Uhhh, I got an
idea,” Tony the civilian said as he walked into the room from the hallway.

“You do, huh?” Sean
asked.

Tony reached
into a small knapsack and pulled out a full bottle of bourbon. “How ‘bout a bit
of Kentucky windage to celebrate and calm our nerves, Chief?”

“Shit,” Sean
said, looking at the bottle. Then he looked around the room and saw the men’s
faces light up. “Well, seein' as you got one bottle to split twelve ways, I’d
say what the hell, break out some glasses. And Tony, you better not be sneaking
open another bottle. When this one’s gone, that’s it.”

The men clamored
to pull down glasses from a cabinet, and they grouped around Tony, slapping him
on the back as he careful divided the precious liquid between them. Brad hesitated,
then walked towards the corner of the room to sit in a chair.

“Shoot, get over
here and get your share, Army,” Swanson called out.

Brad started to
say no, until the rest of the Marines cheered for him to join in. He grinned
and walked across the room to take a cup. He sniffed the liquid; Tony
apparently was not a connoisseur of fine bourbons. Brad took a sip of the brown
stuff and felt it burn as it went down. He made a face, which again caused the
men to cheer.

Brad smiled back
at the men and steadied the glass, then picked up his gear with his free hand. He
turned and moved into the hallway, walking slowly on the clean vinyl tile. He
walked until he found an office with intact furniture and moved in, dumping his
gear to the floor with a thud. The office held a sofa and a large steel desk
with an old, high back chair behind it.

He went behind
the desk and took a seat in the chair. Unbuckling holsters, he placed his M9
and S&W Sigma pistols on the desk, then leaned back and put up his feet. He
took another sip of the whiskey and felt the burn, this time enjoying it a bit
more. He pulled a water bottle from his cargo pocket and added water to the
glass. Not so much to water it down, but to make it last just a bit longer.

 Brad could hear
the men joking in the lounge; the mood lifted with the sudden feelings of
security now that the deck was presumed clear. Brad looked over his shoulder,
opened the blinds behind him, and some light spilled into the room. Looking out,
he was surprised to see the rains had finally stopped and he could see the
moon.

“Looks like the
weather finally broke,” Swanson said, breaking the silence.

Brad looked up
and saw her standing in the doorway. “Yeah, looking that way. What can I help
you with, Corporal?”

“Please, call me
Chelsea,” she answered.

“Okay … Chelsea …
What’s up?”

“Mind if I take
a seat?” she asked as she looked at the sofa across the room from Brad.

“Sure, take a
load off,” he answered, lifting his glass in a mock salute.

Chelsea leaned
her rifle against the wall, plopped onto the sofa, leaned back and took a sip
from her half empty glass before making a foul face.

“Here, add some
water, it mellows it a bit,” Brad said, tossing her the water bottle.

Chelsea smiled
and filled her glass back to the top with water, then took another sip, making
the same face. “I don’t think it helped much. I’d kill for a Coke right now.”

“So what brings
you to my office, Chelsea?’ Brad asked just before he took another sip of his
bourbon.

“Just looking
for some company,” she smiled back.

“What, the
privates don’t entertain you?” Brad chuckled.

“Yeah, turns out
that crude jokes and ball scratching get old after a while,” she laughed.

“Let me ask you
Chelsea, how did you find your way onto this rig? Why weren’t you sent back to
the States?”

“The States, I
wish … I mean, what’s left of them, anyway. I haven’t heard anything from them
in weeks. After the fall, this is where we were dropped. But it’s still better
than on the ground. We were cornered against the walls of the airfield and we
had been holding up for days hiding in the bunkers. With the armor, we were
holding the lines, doing the best we could. Some officers were trying to get
everyone out, but there weren’t enough planes on the ground to move everyone.”

“I’d heard they
recalled everyone back to the States and closed the bases. My unit never got a
warning; my company was lost in the field. At least you had the evac order,”
Brad said.

“Oh, they tried,
I’ll give them that … the first days of the evacuation were impressive; huge
airlift flights leaving the ground and landing every few minutes. The Cobras
and Apaches were tearing up wave after wave of primals, trying to cover the
withdrawal. After a couple of days, the flights dwindled with the fuel supplies.
Combat troops and those with special skills were getting priority to be sent
back to the States. I was in a maintenance unit and kept getting passed over.

“Eventually,
they asked for techs and mechanical types to volunteer to help get these rigs
online as staging areas. Our commander jumped at the chance to get us out of
that place. A Chinook helicopter picked up my team and dropped us here. It was
good duty, considering … and they said once the Navy ship was replenished they
would be getting us home.”

“Yeah, shitty
luck I guess … what’d you know about the attacks? How did we lose Leatherneck? All
that muscle and advanced warning, I’d figure they would hold forever.”

Chelsea took a
long pull on her glass and spoke quietly, “We heard the rumors and were briefed
about the ‘zombie’ attacks, or whatever they were, but nobody believed it. The
camp was put on lock down, and nobody was allowed in or out. We had a hundred
percent up on the walls but nothing happened. We joked about it, but folks were
getting pissed off about pulling twelve hour shifts out on the wire.

“We heard
stories of camps in the north getting overrun and about Bagram falling. Comms
started failing, we lost Internet access … then the sirens blared in the middle
of the second night. At first they came in ones and twos. Even though we were
warned, the sergeants of the guard still hesitated; they didn’t want to shoot
unarmed civilians. But that didn’t last long. Not after we saw the damage they
could do.

“Eventually our
gate was hit by a wave of thousands. The machine guns fired until their barrels
warped. Airstrikes and gunships pounded them. It didn’t take long before the
base was surrounded and they were in so close that we couldn’t get effective
support from the artillery guns. The main gates fell; they swarmed and pushed
in.

“The armor saved
us; the Bradleys and Abrams tanks rushed forward and plugged the break in the
wall. We thought we stopped them. The mass had been beaten back, their numbers
dwindled, but we screwed up. It was the ‘No man gets left behind’ and the whole
‘brothers in arms’ thing that screwed us.”

“What do you
mean by that?” Brad asked.

“We didn’t
understand then how it spread. Some of our guys were really kicking the shit
out of those things. But they got scratched and bit. Their buddies carried them
back to base and took them to the medics. Hell, we didn’t know they would all
turn; nobody told us that part. The hospital fell; units were torn apart from
the inside. Segregation orders for the wounded finally came down, but too much
damage had already been done.

“It was bad. We
were pulled back and we fortified the airfield in final defensive positions. The
armor formed a wall of steel and the Air Force dropped in ammo and supplies around
the clock. Our guys on the line were holding them back, but they just kept
coming. They are attracted to noise, you know … so the more we fought, the more
were drawn in; a never-ending loop. When the captain told us we had been tasked
to the oil rigs, I felt such relief to be leaving. Everyone knew they were
fighting a losing battle.”

“What happened
to the guys on the ground? Did you hear anything from them?” Brad asked.

“I don’t know. We
left for the rig seven days after the first attack, and we stopped getting
reports from the airfield on day ten. Maybe they all got out.”

“Yeah, I’m sure
they all got out,” Brad said slowly.

“Are we ever
getting off of this platform, Army?”

“You know what,
call me Brad, and yeah, I think we will. We didn’t last this long to die out at
sea. Why don’t you get some rest, Chelsea? It’s going to be a long day
tomorrow.”

“Okay. Brad? Thanks
for listening, I appreciate it. Goodnight,” she said, placing the empty glass
on the desk and walking from the room.

Brad drained the
rest of his glass and left it on the desk next to Chelsea’s. He stood to stretch
out the cramps and was surprised at the whiskey’s effect on him. His tolerance
must have slipped quite a bit after all of those months in the desert. Taking
his own advice, he picked up his weapons and gear, then made his way to the
third floor sleeping quarters.