Whiskey Delta – Chapter 10

“No one can confidently say that he will still be living tomorrow.”

-Euripides

The footsteps coming up from behind were like a distant echo. The voices in the background a subtle murmur. The only thing Dezba was truly aware of was the hot gun in his hand. The smoke billowing out the top, the smell of burning gun shot residue invading his nostrils.

“Sarge? Sarge?!” the voice in the background said. It grew louder a second later, more proximate.

“Sarge, the LT’s coming up!”

Dezba looked to his right. Whitman was staring at him and had the small of his arm in his hand. He had an uncharacteristic look on his face. His green eyes seemed steeped in fear, but not for himself.

“Sarge, you okay?”

“Fine,” Dezba heard himself say. “I’m fine Private. How are you?”

Whitman released the hold on his arm and nodded warily. He took a step or two back and motioned with his gun down the hallway to their rear.

“The LT is coming up, Sarge. He’s gonna be looking for his SitRep.”

Dezba nodded and holstered his weapon. In his other hand, he became aware of his M4 which was resting against his leg. He hoisted it up and held it in both hands, turned around to see Braun as he was making his way up the hallway. Second Squad was running behind him, all of them looking itchy and fear-stricken that they’d missed all the fun.

“Sergeant!” Braun yelled when he saw them.

“Lieutenant,” Dezba replied, switching his weapon to his left hand and snapping out a quick salute.

“Sergeant, what’s your status? I’ve been trying to raise you for the last minute.”

Dezba looked around at the mess of bodies. He shrugged.

“Situation has been resolved, sir. All Whiskeys accounted for.”

The LT looked at the mess once he was inside. The men of Second moved forward and began to comb the room, inspecting each and every body for movement and any other telltale signs that they might still be undead. Several of the men emitted low whistles of surprise as they went. Giving it a quick scan himself, the LT looked at Dezba for any sign of injuries.

“Sergeant, can you account for the health and welfare of your men?”

Standard procedure, Dezba knew. First order of business was to make sure all the bastards were dead. The second was make sure they didn’t infect anybody in the process, thus laying the ground for more of them later.

“Yes, sir,” he said confidently. “We caught em straight in a crossfire, not one of them managed to touch us.”

Braun nodded and took another look around. He must have been surprised too, Dezba reasoned. Such a large host, and they didn’t know about them until they were all the way through the first building. Not exactly standard Whiskey behavior. Usually, they were to be found wandering about or congregating in random places, just looking for the next thing to bite.

He could also tell the LT would have some questions for him later, like how he had managed to flush them out. Dezba was a little fuzzy on that himself right now…

“Alright, let’s move. Sergeant Fitzgibbon,” he called over to Second’s NCO . “Take your Squad up ahead and clear down below. First and me are headed up top. Once you’ve cleared it down there, radio in. We might need you to cover our exit once we procure the civies. Understood?”

“Yes sir,” replied the Sergeant, and began to bark orders to his own men. They moved out of the seminar room and began to make their way to the stairwell at the end of the hall. Braun fell in beside Dezba as he turned to his grunts and issued his own commands.

“First Squad, on the LT. We’re Oscar Mike.”

And they were off. At the stairwell, the two squads split, one going up, the other going down. Everyone kept their rifles aimed upwards, checking every corner as they ascended. Floor by floor, they cleared the way up and encountered no resistance. At each landing, they got a quick peak at another level, noting that they all had been through the same carnage as those down below. Still, nothing appeared to be lying in wait for them anymore.

And things felt immensely different this time around. Dezba could still feel a terrible intensity, but it was as if the driving force behind it was now gone. Only a lingering echo remained, the haunting trace of something terrible having gone down here. He began to wonder if maybe his grandpa had been right about all that spirit shit. Maybe their really was such a thing as ghosts and specters, the souls of the departed inhabiting a place long after they had died.

“Hold up,” the LT ordered when they reached the fifth landing. His finger pressed against his ear piece as Second notified him they had reached bottom.

“All clear down here, sir. Nothing but the stench of rotten meat and Whiskey shit.”

“Roger that, Viper Two. Continue sweep and head back to the first floor atrium. Viper Actual out.”

They paused for just a second until the LT ordered them to move again. Whitman was sure to ask the obvious before they really started moving.

“Christ, man. Do Whiskeys even take shits?”

*               *               *

“Sergeant. Clear that door.”

“Yes, sir. Jones!”

Dezba waved the FNG forward. He came running up the door with his shotgun. Dezba motioned at the lock and the Private aimed his weapon squarely. One shot blew apart the metal casing. A second was placed up top to clear any locking mechanisms in the frame. Jones stepped back and Dezba moved forward again, bringing his boot up and sending it into the door’s frame. It broke open easily, letting the outside light and air in.

They moved forward again, pouring out onto the hot, gravel-covered roof. The smell of tar rose up to meet them, and for the first time since entering the building, their noses were spared the terrible odor of rot and decay. There was even a cool breeze coming in from their side.

In the distance, the bundled mass of colorful shirts and shorts could be seen. They were still waving their arms, calling out to the convoy below. They looked rail thin, even up close, and Dezba was beginning to suspect they didn’t smell too nice either.

They were about ten meters away when one of the civies turned and noticed them coming. He quickly rapped the man next to him on the shoulder and he turned. His eyes nearly popped out of his skull.

“Hey! HEY!” he yelled, waving frantically even though they were only a stones throw away.

Everyone else in the party turned to look and began to get equally as frantic. Up close, they got a good assessment of who they were. Students clearly, most of them in their twenties, one or two senior looking students. Fifteen, all told, men and women. From the looks of them, they had been up here for days.

When they were close enough to touch, they all started shouting out a confused mess of thanks and gratuity. Some of them even tried to grab a hold of them and give them hugs.

“Oh my God! OH MY GOD!”

“We saw you! We didn’t think you saw us!”

“Oh my God! Thank you! We thought we were dead!”

“Jesus Christ, did you see those things?! We thought they were going to eat us!”

“Oh, thank God you came!”

“People,” the LT shouted over them. “You’re safe now, but we’ve got to get you to ground quickly. An escort will arrive to take you away, but you’ve got to follow us in an orderly fashion.”

Shouts of agreement all around, then renewed statements of thanks and blessings. A few tried to try the embrace them again and had to be gently pushed away. Whitman, however, seemed to find a grateful young woman whom he just couldn’t tell to back off.

“Oh thank you. You’ve saved us, I’ll never forget it.”

“Oh… that’s okay,” he said with a shit-eating grin. “Just doing my job.”

That only made her hug him harder. Dezba looked over at him and shook his head. Whitman just smiled and gave him the thumbs up.

“Alright,” Braun cut in, hoping to restore some calm. “Can you tell me what happened? How did you folks get up here in the first place?”

Half of them tried to shout out at once. Braun raised his hands for a silence and tried another tack.

“Okay, you,” he said, pointing to the oldest amongst them, a man who appeared to be of about forty, though it was hard to tell right now.

“We were inside when the call came in, said their was a city-wide emergency.”

“Yeah, and these people were watching the news on their iPods! There were fires and these things coming out of everwhere!”

“Ma’am!” Dezba raised his hand to one of the young ones. “You’ll get your turn. Just please wait.”

She looked a little guiled, but nodded. The older man went on.

“Well… we were told to remain inside, let the authorities deal with it. But next thing we know, they tell us there’s a bunch of them moving around outside, and that people can’t leave or they be killed.”

“Yeah, and that’s when we heard broken glass,” said the young woman. Neither LT or Dezba bothered to stop her. She seemed to have the floor now. “People started running up the hallway, they were falling all over each other. Some tried to shut themselves in rooms and lock the door. We were in study hall and we tried to get out…” she paused, not so much for breath but because of what she remembered next. “That’s when we saw them.”

“Yeah,” another girl said. “They were coming through the front doors. They were coming up the stairs. We didn’t know what to do. Campus security tried to barricade some of the bigger rooms with chains -”

Another jumped in. “-but most of them just ran away.”

“Yeah, we started to as well, but people just kept bunching up in places and telling everyone else to hide somewhere else.”

“And they just kept getting closer -”

“-we could hear the screams!”

“The sounds of them biting, moaning!”

It went on like this for a few minutes, no one person talking alone anymore. All accounts agreed though, pandemonium had ensued and everywhere, people were running, hiding, and dying. Pretty much what they had determined after taking one look around the place.

“Campus security,” Braun said finally, “were they armed? Were they able to take out any of them?”

“Fuck no! Those guys don’t get to have guns. They’re like mall cops!” said one of the younger men. Just about everyone scoffed in agreement.

“But s0me of them did try fighting them off with their flashlights. But that didn’t work too well.” It was the older lady saying this. She looked around at their group, particularly the young man. “They were brave… those boys. They died protecting us.”

Everyone else hung their heads for a second. Dezba looked at the older lady approvingly. Her reminder had shamed them, but rightfully so. From the sound of things, those “mall cops” had taken their duty seriously and made the greatest sacrifice to ensure some people made it out.

And here they were.

Finally, the LT cleared his throat and began issuing orders.

“Alright folks, let’s get you out of here. Sergeant, form up around them with your squad. People, stay between us and just try to keep moving. We’ve cleared this place of a whole mess of Whiskeys, but there’s no telling if there are more still lurking inside. You copy?”

Nods all around. Poor folks looked so freaked out and grateful, Dezba guessed they’d agree to just about anything. He could have told them to drop their pants and follow them out penguin-style they would have obliged.

Braun nodded to Dezba and he looked at Whitman.

“Billy, you on point with me!”

“Uh… Sarge?” he said, motioning ever so subtly with his head at the young girl who had thrown herself at him a moment before.

“On-point-Private. Now!”

Whitman grumbled, but fell in alongside him. He was sure to share a few words with him once they moved back into the stairwell in advance of the others.

“Sarge, how the hell am I supposed to hook up with that sweet piece of ass if you’ve got me up here. Any one of those guys could be macking on her right now.”

Dezba shook his head. “One, Billy, don’t use words like macking, it’s disgraceful. Two, you already looked like you impressed the hell out of that girl. And three,” he looked back, made sure the rest were still following. “You being up front makes you look good. You’re leading the way while the others hang back. Trust me, chicks eat that shit up.”

Whitman seemed to perk up at that. The rest of the way, he moved with a newfound sense of grace.