Run (Book 2): The Crossing (28 page)

45

Wilcox looked up at Stenner when they were halfway down the first elevator shaft, as the unmistakable sound of an explosion reached them. “What the fuck was that?”

“I don’t know, but we have to get inside and let the colonel know about the damn zombie horde at our door.”

They continued their climb and eventually found Anna administering first aid to Dallas in the corridor outside the first computer lab. Rick, his M4 slung on his shoulder, stood next to them, as Ravi, Linda, and Brenda were fiddling with some of the gizmos in the computer lab. A slumped form outside the doorway of the security room got the kid’s attention. He silently tapped Stenner and pointed. “Is that Phil? What the hell happened?” He flipped the safety off of his M4 and backed up a step.

Anna continued to work on Dallas as she answered the question. “Phil wasn’t a friendly. He tried to kill Dallas, and he…he shot the colonel.

“Bourne? Where is he?”

Rick moved toward the security room. “C’mon”

Stenner sighed and nodded when he saw the body. “There are hundreds of undead about to get into the parking lot. We closed the front doors, but they’re made of glass. I closed the door into the first room with the metal detector, and the elevator doors closed behind us, but I dunno if that will stop them from getting down here.”

“Don’t forget the boom,” Wilcox added, staring at the colonel.

“Yeah, there was an explosion of some kind up there too.”

Rick’s brow furrowed, and he repeated what Phil had done with the cameras earlier. When he reached the feed for the front of the building, he could see the destroyed LAV burning in the background, and at least a thousand undead milling about the facility grounds. He slumped into a chair. “Dammit Stark.”

The phone on the desk next to him rang, causing everyone to jump.

“Rick? Where’s the colonel?”

Seyfert saw the look of horror come over Androwski’s face, and demanded to know what was happening. Androwski ran to the monitors and punched the soft keys until he was looking at the same view of the parking lot that Rick was seeing.

Androwski backed up a step. “We need to get back upstairs.”

“But the colonel… ”

“Bourne’s dead.”

Seyfert was visually taken aback. “What? How?”

“Let’s get up a floor and find the fuck out.” He looked at Bob. “Don’t leave this room, okay?”

Bob nodded, and Seyfert drew his knife. He flipped it around so he was holding the blade and passed the butt end to Bob. “Through the eye, or up under the chin are your best bets. Try not to get any infected shit on you.”

The SEALs made their way toward the elevator to climb up the ladder.

The Viper AH-1Z gunship made a secondary pass over the destroyed LAV, but she kept her guns quiet. She climbed and hovered at sixteen hundred feet, the man in the forward gunner’s position relaying what was on the ground to the three Blackhawk helicopters inbound to the facility.

“Roger that, sir, the LAV is no longer operational. Negative, the compound is not clear, repeat, not clear of hostiles. Estimate numbers in the high hundreds, possibly one thousand. Affirmative. Talon One can soften them up, but we don’t have the ammo to clear the compound, and rockets may damage the structures if fired close. Talon One has AP rounds not HE, so effect will not be maximized.”

The pilot interrupted, “We’re bingo in twelve.”

“Sir, what is your ETA? We have eleven minutes of fuel before we need to RTB. Copy that, six minutes out. Recommend incursion teams drop on to the roof of the primary structure in the center of the compound. LZ is very hot, no room for birds on the ground. Roger that, sir, Talon One engaging, out.”

The Viper nosed down to five hundred feet and the M197 electric Gatling cannon went to work, its three barrels spitting twenty millimeter destruction. Between the LAV and the undead, five hundred of the seven hundred fifty rounds of armor piercing ammunition had been expended when the barrels stopped spinning. The gunner wanted to keep two hundred rounds in reserve to cover the transport choppers which had just appeared on the Viper’s Longbow radar system.

The dead were still pushing and shoving to get inside the complex, and the gunner thought the parking lot looked like that of a rock concert or a football game. “Steady to two twenty-five, vertical spread, firing hydras in three, two…” When he got to one, fourteen Hydra rockets erupted from the LAU-68C/A launcher, and the pilot dropped the nose of the aircraft slightly and steadily as the gunner fired to maximize the effect of the rockets over a wider vertical scale. The line of dead streaming into the parking lot were blown limb from limb, some bodies and parts flying ten meters in the air. The entire exterior guard house and road into the facility simply ceased to exist. Amazingly, not all of the creatures had been destroyed, and some of them began to rise, or drag themselves toward the compound using whatever appendages would carry them forward.

The distant thrum of several helicopter rotors was heard by the undead as the Viper moved to eight hundred feet and hovered. The creatures searched, but were unable to determine the source of the sounds until the helos burst into sight over the trees. The first Blackhawk hovered ten meters above the roof of the main building, and four black lines descended from it. Eight soldiers in two teams slid down the lines head first and righted themselves immediately prior to impacting the gravel on the roof. Several bags followed them down. A quick sweep left the soldiers with nothing to shoot at, and they took up covering positions for the next teams. The lines were retracted into the Blackhawk and she moved off. The procedure was repeated twice more, the very last man down in a black T-shirt striding forward with a radio. Twenty-four men had been deposited in less than two minutes.

The Viper swooped down and fired her remaining rounds into the crowd which was still swarming into the facility, then she moved off as well.

An assortment of weapons was pointed at the roof access door as a man with a ram signaled he was ready to force the door. One whack and the door slammed open, revealing a stairway leading into darkness. Tactical lights switched on and the black-clad warriors moved forward, weapons at the ready.

Two men with sniper rifles remained on the roof for a moment to assess the undead activity that couldn’t be seen from the helicopters. They looked over the side of the building at the same time then reacted identically: “Oh shit.”

“Yeah, I ain’t stayin’ here.” One man quickly yanked up his balaclava and pressed his throat microphone. “Delta One, this is Far Eye, rooftop cover not effective with this many Fallen, request permission to regroup with Delta One?” The man looked shocked when he pulled his mask back down.

“What?”

His partner looked back over the side. “That’s a negative on the regroup. We’re to remain on station until called for.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” The second man pointed at the stairway. “We don’t even have a door!”

“Would you rather face the Fallen or Brooks?”

Both men slung their rifles and reached into one of the black bags, removing two P90 submachine guns and a single Benelli M3 shotgun. “Let’s see if we can fix the fuckin’ door, yeah?”

46

The SEALs and Rick stood over Bourne’s body, Rick had covered the top half with a lab coat. “So he just shot him?” demanded Seyfert.

Rick looked solemn as he nodded. “He called him a traitor.”

“Motherfucker,” Seyfert said through gritted teeth. “You should have left the prick for me.”

“Talk to the hillbilly about that. Killed Phil with one punch.”

Both looked incredulous. “Bullshit!”

Rick half-smiled. “No bullshit. Phil also made a phone call.”

Anna called from the computer lab. “Rick! Rick, come here!” Rick hurried off.

Seyfert glanced at the video feed and sighed. “Fuck me.”

Androwski looked at the screen and saw several extremely well-armed figures moving with military precision down a stairwell until the camera switched. The SEALs looked at each other. “We can better defend a level down, more cover.”

“Agreed,” Seyfert said, still looking at the screen. He looked at his friend and grinned, “but I can leave some surprises up here.”

“Do it,” Androwski said. “I’ll exfil the nerds downstairs.” Seyfert began to move off, but Androwski grabbed him by the shoulder. “Take Stenner, but don’t throw your lives away. A burst, maybe two, and get your asses downstairs.”

“Roger that, buddy.”

Seyfert held up what looked like a half moon of white play dough with a bunch of metal keys, paperclips, pens and precision screwdrivers sticking out of one side and he looked at Stenner. “At least a ten-foot kill radius, maybe more in a confined area like the corridor.” Stenner nodded, eyes wide. “I want you in the shaft, on the ladder. That end of the hall will be dark, but they’ll have Starlights. As soon as I see them, flip the glasses down, I’ll turn on the lights at this end and fuck with their eyes. You fire your whole mag with a light spread down the hall the second the lights come on, then get your ass down the shaft, I’ll be right behind you. If I’m not there in thirty seconds, you blow numbers two and three, got it?”

“Roger that. You just get your ass down there too.”

“I am way too fucking pretty to die,” the SEAL replied and ran toward the far elevator. Stenner could see him placing the homemade IEDs in strategic locations in the corridor in the security room. The Army man got into his elevator shaft, with his feet on a rung, and half twisted, aiming his M4 at the now closed stainless elevator doors down the hall. He swallowed hard as he heard gunshots from what seemed like a million miles away. They were coming from the floor above.

Seyfert returned and set himself up to the right of Stenner in the last lab, just inside the door. A three-way light switch for the corridor within easy reach. He flicked the switch and they were bathed in darkness, waiting.

47

“Contact behind!” screamed a black-clad soldier and he fired his belt-fed Squad Assault Weapon into the growing crowd of dead. Tracer rounds ripped into the approaching mass as the soldier’s squad mates frantically tried to open the steel door. Others joined the battle and fired their assorted weapons, some on selective fire, some on full auto. The man in charge calmly reached behind a desk and smacked something the door opening. A soda machine in the hall was peppered with high-velocity projectiles, sparks and carbonated liquid spraying the creatures who were stepping over their fallen comrades, slavering at the meal to come.

The man with the SAW actually stepped toward the horde. “Get through the fucking door!” he bellowed over his shoulder. The rest of the team filed quickly through the portal to relative safety, taking up defensive positions to guard the door behind them. The man who was dressed differently than the others, obviously the commander, slipped through the door last with a catlike grace.

The man defending his mates with the big gun was ankle deep in bullet brass, and there were considerable enemy casualties in front of him, but the mass moved forward, paying little heed to his hail of lead. When the things were an arm’s reach away, some began to lunge, and the soldier deftly backed away, skirting their advances to their utter frustration. He began a quick retreat and backwards-jogged to the door firing his weapon the entire time. To his horror, the door was closed. He kicked the door with his boot, screaming for his friends to let him in, but his calls went unanswered.

The man in the black T looked casually at the men around him. “They’re too close to the door, if we open it we all die.” He strode through the metal detector, which sounded a familiar tone, and he produced a clear plastic card from a lanyard around his neck. He ran the card through a reader next to the stainless steel doors and a ding sounded. The men in the room with him looked at each other and at the door behind them.

Several more frantic kicks thumped and then the machine gun went silent. Black T shirt whistled
The Girl from Ipanema
while reports from a sidearm could be heard from the other side of the door. Two quiet seconds passed and the elevator doors opened. A last shot made the men’s blood run cold, and then the sounds of scuffling came through the steel. The first thump of a fist thundered through the quiet room, interrupting the whistling.

Black T walked nonchalantly into the elevator and leaned against the back wall, crossing his feet at the ankles. “It will be tight, but we can fit maybe fifteen of us in here.” Men quietly filed into the box with him. “I’ll come back up for the rest of you as soon as we get down.”

The men left behind looked apprehensive, especially when multiple fists began striking the steel behind them.

The elevator doors closed, and a man near the metal detector spoke, “Harris and Billings on the roof and now Beck three feet from us? What the hell is with this guy?”

“He don’t give a shit about us, he wants whatever is in here and we’re expendable,” answered another.

“I’m not dying for that son of a bitch’s agenda!”

“Then keep up, and don’t be last. Last guy gets eaten.”