The Dead Among Us (Chapter 1: Genesis)
March 2nd, 2012This isn't something you ask for.Who asks for this sort of thing? Who wants this?...And yet... it's unbelievably necessary.When I was twelve, the Boy Scouts taught me to Be Prepared for anything. Well... how can anyone prepare for this?I stand over my dead Uncle Darwin, a crowbar in my left paw. Sweat drips from my ghostly white hair, and for the weirdest reason, the scars on my back are starting to hurt.And the memories flood in.Not memories. Nightmares. Flashbacks. Stuff the likes of me shouldn't have survived, but I have.You see, it's the government's fault. It always is. They bred samples of the fucking virus in Atlanta, at the Center for Disease Control, trying to find a cure. I wasn't briefed beyond that. I just knew it originated in Atlanta, Atlanta was Ground Zero.Napalm doesn't stop these fuckers.You open your eyes and look down. Your uncle's still dead at your feet, his skull smashed open, blood, fur, bits of flesh, and everything is splattering the polished wood floor and the crowbar in your paw. It's your fault. So what do you do?You reach into your right pocket and pull out your phone. Blood's spotted on your uniform, your beautiful digital camouflage uniform with its badges and pins and patches and tabs, and you're covered in sweat, dripping in it, and you decide to call your friend.Come on, you say. Pick up.Dr. Gale Pahvoth is the first person that comes to mind when I want to call a friend. Why?Gale and I met in a VA hospital a month after I left the Army. He was my doctor, and he took damn good care of me. I trusted him more than any shrink that hospital could produce. He understood me. He understood the blood, the gore, the death, he knew because he'd seen it before. 3 A.M. wake-up calls, Joey's got a fever, annoying shit like that. And emergency room stuff, gurneys, blood, surgery. Gale started out as a paramedic. He could stabilize patients in the ambulance and stuff, use the pedals if he needed, all sorts of stuff normal EMTs don't get to do. Then he got to nursing. He really hated that... but he kept pushing because he wanted his doctorate. And he got it. Gale Pahvoth, MD. Whoopdie-do. He was going to specialize in heart surgeries and keep going through school, but then he met me.And that plane left the airstrip long ago.He and I were instant friends. He and I could understand "post-traumatic stress." I didn't want to see any head shrinker or support group, I wanted Gale.But our relationship got to be more than a friendship, even when he told me he had a boyfriend. I almost lost it there, but I controlled myself. I tried so hard with this tiger, and some stupid blue Border Collie comes in and steals him. The bastard.The other side of the line picks up, and I hear his voice. So sweet to the ear, but at this point, it sounds frantic. "Hello? Jack? Why are you calling?"Gale, I tell him. I need him to come home. My uncle's dead, I say, he was one of them. The Infected.That's what they're calling them on the TV. The Infected. Makes sense, I guess.He understands. He's actually already on his way home, but he's stuck in traffic.I tell him, forget traffic. Your car doesn't matter, I can get you a new ride. Get what you need and run, run as fast as you can. Steal a bike if you have to, but run. I need you, please...0944 hoursI heard the front door pop open. He's here.Gale walked in through the entry hallway and came upon me standing over my dead uncle in the kitchen. I wasn't looking at him. I couldn't look at him. My uncle's dead. Would you look at your friend if you just killed your uncle?"You... You killed him..."I didn't kill him."You did."He was already dead."But you... You put him down," he tried reasoning.I finally glanced over at him, snarling. Would you have done any different?"I don't know, Jack." He sighed, folding his arms. There was blood everywhere in the kitchen. Blood on the counters from where I smacked Darwin's head into a counter. Blood on the fridge from where I through him at it with all my strength. Dark red crap all over the floor and the baseboards of the bottom cabinets, and my boots. Well, I told him. We need to get out of here."You're just going to leave hi--"THAT'S NOT MY UNCLE!! That hurt my throat, saying that.Gale flinched, as if he was afraid I would throw the crowbar at him. Never. I'd never do that. Why would he think that? "I'm sorry, Jack... I understand, they're not people... The chief resident kept trying to tell us that, that since they're dead they're not sentient. Most of the nurses and psychiatrists wouldn't listen to him. I did. I put down two different patients that had turned. Used a scalpel."Do you know how it's spread, I ask him. Is it the bites?"Yeah... I think so. Both patients had bites, one of them on the throat."Darwin didn't have any bites. "What?"Then there came a banging at the door. How fast did you run? I asked him. "They're fast when they first turn. Most of the people in the city are fresh, except the homeless. Those guys have all been dead for at least a couple days." He approached me, putting a hand on my shoulder. "You were saying we should leave?"Yeah. Darwin's helicopter, the 210. There's
stuff in the basement I need to get. Guns, bullets, food, shit like that. "You still fly?"You never stop flying, Gale. Never. He nodded at me and followed me downstairs to the basement. What was down there was what anybody else would call the Goldmine of Survival, according to Darwin. Darwin's dead. This is our salvation.I opened up the door to the basement. It's big, heavy, thick steel, with two combination locks with different combinations. A battering ram couldn't take down this door. We get down stairs and I run straight for the pile of duffel bags in the corner. They're made for carrying large items, so I run over to a massive gun safe that's been built into the wall. I open that up and start grabbing out rifles. I call Gale over and tell him to bring a bag and start filling it with ammunition cans. God, I love redneck veterans. He's piling cans of 5.56 and 7.62 NATO, boxes of 12 gauge shells, .44 Magnum, 9 millimeter, .45 Auto, .38 Special, a few rare calibers. He has to grab another bag for the heavy shit. 40 millimeter. Darwin only had 10 shells because they're so expensive what with gun laws and stuff. He got out the .50 BMG rounds while I picked up rifles and handguns and stuffed them in bags. Where we're going, I said, we're gonna need a lot of shit. "Why?"We're going to Fort Brazos.Fort Brazos was at one point Brazos Bend State Park, but the Army bought it up to make a new instillation. It now houses the 1st Special Forces Group and a few other small special operation units, so I know they're going to have next-level shit. Before I got out of the Army, I was stationed there because they moved me from the SOAR to a "more elite" aviation unit. I agree on that point. SOAR doesn't have Apaches. 1st SFAR does. "What if it's overrun?"It won't be. If it is, we'll clear it out. Call your boyfriend. I'll call Felice and a couple others. That bird can carry up to eighty-five hundred pounds. I intend to utilize that. So as Gale grabs a different bag and starts filling it with medical supplies and as I've got a new bag full of canned food, we zip up the other bags. I start carrying shit out to the bird that sits about 200 meters from the house-- it's more of a mansion, to be honest, thanks to our business we've been running-- and within half an hour, we're packed with food, water, guns, ammunition, toiletries, medical supplies, and I know we can fit maybe six other people on the bird as well. I call my boyfriend right away. Felice, you need to get
your ass over here, we're getting the fuck out of town. "Where are you? Home?" That beautiful Cockney accent was coming through the other side... I needed my little Chinese Crested... This isn't the time for those thoughts.Yeah, I say."I'm in a sticky situation... Can you come to me?"Where are you?"The Shamrock about 5 miles south from you. I was trying to get to you anyways because I know you've got guns and food and shit, but I got cornered. I'm on the roof. Hurry, Jack, they're trying to climb up the ladder, I can't kick these things forev-- agh, shit! You son of a bitch! The fuck are you!?"Felice?"I'm alright. Listen, babe, I gotta get off the phone," is what I heard before I heard three deafening bangs before he screamed, "These things are everywhere, Jack, HURRY! Fuck! I gotta go, I love you!"I love you too. Be careful. And I hung up.Dammit. I punched the wall and told Gale to close the side doors and get in the left seat. We're headed out. I relayed to him that Caro would need to meet us at the Shamrock. Gale nodded and texted his boyfriend and then got in the copilot seat. I then got in the pilot seat, the right-sided one, and turned on the engine and got the rotors spinning. After a couple minutes, we were in the air.I'm coming, baby.1024 hoursDeath isn't something we like to think about. But it's when the dead start coming back to feed on the the living that we have no choice.This is a thought I remember after watching Romero's Dawn of the Dead. Nobody thinks these things will exist, but they do now. That's what's important.As I fly the helicopter the five miles towards the Shamrock, I see something frightening. Hundreds upon hundreds of them, all surrounding the gas station. Gale, I say over the comms. Tell Caro not to come all the way to the station, just wait a mile down the road from it! There's too many!!He shouts in agreement and whips out his phone to start texting the Collie. When you're done, I tell him, I need you to get the M60 from the back and start clearing these fuckers out. Three to five round bursts, conserves ammo. Make sure you aim for the head. He nods again, and runs to the back of the bird and fumbles around the bags to grab my uncle' sold M60. Don't ask me how he has it. It's a long and complicated story. He starts loading it like Darwin showed him and braces himself against the starboard threshold after opening the door, making sure
he's tethered. He opens up and starts shooting undead fuckers of all species and sizes and sexes. I'm bringing her down, I tell him. Right above the rooftop. Throw Felice a rope and help him up, I can't land on this tiny ass roof.He agrees, and once we're directly over the roof, I lower it as much as I can and he throws the Chinese Crested hairless a rope. The dog's carrying a Walther PPK and a cleaver. He holsters the the handgun and flings the cleaver at a freak climbing onto the roof. He then dashes for the rope, jumps, and grabs it. Gale immediately starts tugging him up while Reinhart is trying to climb his way to the top. Working together, Fel is up in no time, and I shout at him to get in the copilot seat and put on a headset. He does so, and I put my free hand on his thigh. I was so worried, I tell him.He rubs my paw and nods, a tear coming to his eye. "You're my fucking hero, you dumbass... Now go, let's get outta here." I love it when he calls names.So we're flying up the road a ways, and I see Caro's 2008 Corolla. I land in the middle of the road behind his car, and he picks up a backpack and a baseball bat off of the hood of his car; he's been waiting. He jumps right in and slams the door closed behind himself before sitting down in front of his machine-gun toting boyfriend. Even though Caro is a bit taller and maybe a little more muscular than Gale, sometimes you gotta wonder who's the sub in that relationship. I'd assume it's Gale only because I know Gale like that, but hell, Caro doesn't own guns. I thought this was Texas. Everybody and their moms are packing.Caro put on a headset, one of fifteen, and said, "We are we going?"Fort Brazos, I tell him. They've got a nuclear bunker for crying out loud, and I was stationed there, so I know they'll let us in. I'm friends with a lot of huge officers, so the likeliness they won't take us in is slim, even if I am carrying civvies. "Well... Thanks, anyways." Gale clearly agrees with Caro's gratitude, because he snuggles his boyfriend close and nods."You're a life-saver, Jack." Hey, I tell them. Thank my uncle, it's his helicopter."Where is the old man?" Fel asks. He looks around at all of us. Gale just shakes his head solemnly, and Felice understands. He whimpers softly, and puts a paw on my shoulder. I'm just silent. I'm not saying shit.I've got more important shit to worry about.We approach the skyline of the city, given that we're in College Station. Houston is a hellhole. Buildings are on fire, the streets are full of people, both dead and alive. The Nasty Girls are trying to contain it, but their lines are getting pushed back every minute. I see somebody on the ground sprinting as fast as they can. Damn, these things are fast. There are at least four of them on his tail. This lion is panting and sweating and running like his life depends on
it.Because it does. GALE! I scream. Cover him, I'm taking her down!He looks at me funny and then shrugs before shouldering the M60 and firing several rounds at the pack running towards the lion. I come in a dust off, and Caro screams at the lion to get in. The dude jumps inside and I pull up as soon as he straps into a seat. "T-thank you," he says, panting hard. "I thought I was finished, except for you." His accent was very thick and Irish to the core. I asked him for his name. "Shaun... Shaun Finnegan... Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh fuck..." I ask him, are you alright?"Yeah... Need to catch my breath." Gale pats him on the back. "So... Why me?"Dunno, I said. I can only take one more passenger."Then why waste space on me?"Because you run like a soldier. You're shaven like a soldier. You military? "Yeah, IRA, but I left that a loooong time ago... Came to America, looking for better work." I ask him if he's heard of Fort Brazos. "Yeah, we going there?"Hua."So what the hell kinda dog are ya? Never seen o' you before. You're not a fox, that's for sure, your jaw shape isn't narrow enough for that... You're not a hyena, else you'd be burlier with really curly hair... The white hair's also throwin me, so it can't be natural." He put a paw on his chin, trying to get a bead on my species. I almost laughed. I'm a dhole, thank you very much."Well, sorr-ee for not knowing... I'm love meeting exotic canines, but I've never come across your species before. Where does it originate?"India. And it figures that you wouldn't know of it. My species is almost completely extinct while tigers are living the good life. In all my life, the only dholes outside my family I've ever known, both are dead. "Why?"The fucking Crown, that's why. Their parents immigrated to England and then the two got drafted during the Afghanistan campaign. "I'm sorry," he said solemnly. "Guess that's why I joined the IRA; to fight the crown." No body gives a shit, I snapped. This is America, and right now, the whole fucking country is going to shit. It's been four weeks since the outbreak in Atlanta and already it's spread to Colorado and Utah and Nevada. How do you figure that?"I don't know," he admits. "I'm not virologist."Well, I tell him, where we're going, we won't need scientists. Brazos is self-sufficient, and even if they are overrun, it won't be hard to clear it out with the stuff that base has. Besides, we've got an M60. I can keep us in the air while we take fuckers out. It'll be easy. Caro decided to speak up that point. "Ya know, you seem awful certain about a place you haven't seen in a year. What makes you think everything will work out?"It will. Now shut up, dumbass. We got one more place to go.I tipped the nose of the bird south east, and I knew of one place we had to stop. The police
station.You see, in my time with the SFAR, I was part of probably its best unit, the Company A of the 38th Scorpion battalion. My CO, Captain Stone, retired from that with me and became a police officer with HPD. He was captain of SWAT, so chances are he'd be engaged at this point, but I had to at least try to find him. I picked up a CB transmitter, pressed the button on the side and said, Whistler-1 to Stormy Sky, come in Stormy Sky, over. We waited a few minutes, flying through the city streets while Gale and Shaun occasionally took shots at dead freaks (Shaun having picked up an M16) while I looked for the right station."Which one are we looking for," Shaun asked. "We're on 290 now!" The one in Jersey village, just off of the Fairbanks crossing, I shouted back. He nodded and fired a few more shots before reloading. I screamed at him to put the empty magazines in the duffel bag with the letters Mike, Charlie, Lima, Oscar, Oscar. He shouted in understanding and stuffed the magazine in before grabbing a new one and loading up. Gale said over comms that he still had about 40 rounds. I looked back up and kept my eyes on the horizon. I finally saw the station, and smiled.There was a grey-furred canine-looking man, almost seven feet tall, wearing full riot gear and carrying a rifle, waving a bright red flare on the roof top. There were several dozen freaks surrounding the station, some of them even living and fighting for their lives-- and failing. I knew instantly who that man was. I told Gale, it's the same drill with Felice. He nodded and threw down the rope as I hovered above the rope. The man started climbing up, and Gale struggled to pull him. He's 210 pounds, I said, good luck. Gale laughed as the wolf was finally hoisted into the fuselage.He was roughly 6'8", extremely muscular, grey-furred with black stripes on his arms and a scar in the shape of an X over his left eye, both barely visible through the armor. This, I told them, is Captain Storm Stone. The wolf-snow tiger hybrid shook paws with the other boys in the back and strapped himself in. He grabbed one of the headsets, saying, "You never told me you had a boyfriend!"That's because we haven't talked in two days since you've been busy with "work". And because you dumped me, so why should I tell you about my personal life?"Hey, you threw the first punch and started beating the shit out of me," he retorted, trying to defend himself. I scoffed at him.You're the asshole who stole half my fucking money and acted like you owned our little business. Keep in mind, it was Taylor and Stone, not Stone and Taylor. And you aren't a licensed instructor, or a mechanic. You just brokered all the deals and handled financial issues. You knew I wasn't a business man and you took advantage of that fact, and of me. By the time I realized why I was always overdrawn, I was about a hundred bucks away form bankruptcy. I
FUCKING RAN THAT BUSINESS. I STARTED IT. I TOOK OUT THE LOAN. I ASKED YOU to join, god dammit, not the other way around, you fucking sycophantic piece of shit. You're lucky I even decided to pick you up. I bet you suckered your chief into promoting you. You're nothing but a selfish asshole, and I can't believe I ever dated you.I blew a few locks of hair out of my face while Felice's gripped my thigh gently, turned around to glare at Storm, and shook his head disapprovingly. He has no idea...Storm scoffed and set his rifle down beside him before speaking up again, in a questioning tone. "So then why the fuck did you date me? Why the fuck did you pick my ass up off the roof, huh? Why!?" Don't raise your voice at me, you piece of shit, I'll have all three of those guys back there throw you onto the Williams Tower, I own this bird, not you. I caught some turbulence. He distracted me.The captain buttoned his lips and I huffed another puff of breath. Asshole. Felice's right paw was still on my leg, and I knew he was just trying to comfort me. I moved my right hand over his to grab the collective and raise the bird some, because I felt we might've been flying a little too low. I love that dog but now wasn't the time. When was the time? Then something came in over the radio. "Doctor, come in Doctor, this is Nurse, ETA to Gurney approximately zero-tree mikes, will notify you when we approach the one mike mark, then will prepare to deliver, do you copy, over?"The response came maybe five seconds later, and the voice behind it was very burly. "Docto copies, have your co- ensure the Mother is prepped for delivery. Remember, birth co-ordinates are two, niner, point, seven, eight degrees North, niner, fife, point, tree, niner, seven degrees west. Should be the Memorial Hermann medical plaza, over,"Oh shit.We just lost cabin pressure.Felice can see the worried look on my face, but before he can ask the first voice-- Nurse-- comes back through."Copy that, Doctor. One minute to the Gurney, co- has ensured the Mother is ready to deliver. Requesting authorization to deliver, over.""Nurse, you are green for go, Sierra Tango Niner Fife, over.""Affirmative, authentication codes received, Doctor, Nurse out."Then Felice decides to ask me what the fuck we all just listened to, and then I shake my head.Mother... The Mother of All Bombs. They're going to drop of a MOAB on Memorial Hermann. It's a Massive Ordinance Air Blast, and the blast radius is about a mile. We'll see the flash from here, easy. It uses the oxygen surrounding the initial blast as its fuel sets the air on fire and then after sucking everything in, shoves it all back out... Like a backwards Little Boy. Because Felice is technically a hairless dog (with tufts around his ankles, his wrists, and a mane), I can see the skin on his face
go white and pink. I hear Gale say "Oh fuck," over the comms. Oh fuck indeed. My guess, I tell them, is that the situation is so bad in the hospitals that they've gotta tie up loose ends.Then Nurse comes back online. "Doctor, we are ready to deploy. Legs are open, delivering in tree, two, one-- shit!!" Then, I swing the bird around to see what we're dealing with, and all of us witness a bright flash and then a massive fireball consuming the whole fucking hospital we just flew over not a minute ago. I lose all feeling in my hands, and Nurse comes back through-- "Ahh, Doctor, it's a boy, repeat, it's a boy, over.""Good work, Nurse, return to the airfield. Doctor out."I can feel a tear working up. There's no telling how many people in there weren't infected. And even if all them were... That's... Fuck. A life is a life, I like to say, and the bodies of all those people were just vaporized. They're nothing but dust, and it makes you think, what if we had been there at the wrong time? A mile blast radius is pretty fucking big, and that could've been us right there.I swing the helicopter back around and we're off again. By far one of the most traumatizing things any of these people have witnessed-- except maybe Storm-- because now everyone but the captain is shaking. They know. That could've been a hospital full of innocent civilians and they had no idea what was coming. They couldn't get out. And the bystanders, shit, that plaza is smaller than a fucking mile. The outbreak didn't reach here until just four days ago, so there's no way the majority of the population is already that fucked. But now they are. And I say so.Now we're all fucked. There's no telling what else they're gonna hit. I start flipping through channels, seeing if we can catch other conversations. We hear about one platoon trapped in the Fulbright Tower, one about a tank covered in dead fuckers, a helicopter going down because of a bitten soldier on board... It he's you realize that even the Army can't stop these fuckers. Which is why we have to get away, far, far the fuck away.I'm not sticking around for shit.1030 hours...1119 hoursI checked the fuel gauge on the bird. We had maybe 80 miles left in the old girl, and cruising at about 120 miles an hour (roughly 110 knots for us aviators), it wouldn't be long before we got to Brazos. By this point, it was maybe 10 miles away, so I knew we'd be there in maybe the next few minutes. Gale stands and walks up, leaning on my seat and running his fingers through my hair. Silently, I thought to myself, now isn't the time, not in front of Felice. But there was nothing I could do to stop him, otherwise Felice might notice and realize. This isn't something you'd want your boyfriend to know about.At the moment, Felice had actually been looking out the window at the city
passing underneath us, sighing. I had told him earlier not to lean on the door because he MIGHT fall out, but he's stubborn. So that curvy tiger kept running his fingers through my mane, curling locks in his claws, being all affectionate. I suppose if Felice asked, I'd just tell him Gale's a sweetheart and a snuggler. He's just not snuggling because I'm flying. But Gale and I both know that's not true.I know what he's playing. When is it ever the time?Storm "Ahems" in the back of the fuselage, taking notice not only to the affectionate tiger, but to Gale swishing his tail, from what he tells me later. Gale goes and sits back down, silently pouting, while Storm comes up and starts asking me about it.I'm still mad. Sit the fuck down, Storm, you're gonna throw off the balance of the bird with your heavy-ass self."Liar. What's you're problem?" You are. Sit down, now, or I'll hand Felice the controls and sit you down myself. He scoffs and goes back to his seat. Gale starts rummaging through the medical supply bag to see what all we have and take a mental inventory-- typical doctor. Shaun speaks up, tapping the tiger's shoulder and asking if we had anything really sugary. "Why?""Hypoglycemic... It's a curse, I tell ya." I shake my head, sighing. There's a burden for you. A hypoglycemic will eat nearly all the food if given the chance. Gale nods, reaching into a different bag to grab a King-Size Kitten bar. He hands it over and Shaun bows and holds his hands prayer-style, thanking the tiger. The lion goes back to his seat and tears it open and bites into it. If he eats all the candy bars, I say, I'll cut his balls off and feed them to him. Gale tells me to calm down and to shush, and I blow a lock of hair out of my face. Whatever. Looking closer to the horizon, ignoring the skyline. We're over farmland now, and I take the collective down to bring us closer to the ground. We pass over a row of three buildings that I instantly recognized to be a school campus, given that I've been out here before, at least, to George Ranch high school. Speaking of George Ranch, we're actually going over the farm now, following along FM 762. From what I've heard, it's a decent school, but I wouldn't know. So rather than follow the farm road completely, we simply cut across diagonally, and we're almost flying directly over the base. I pic up my mic and try to see if I can hail someone in the tower. Whistler One to Fort Brazos Control Tower, come in Control, over.No response.I call again, same hail, but I hear nothing. And for a good reason. Looking down at the base, it's a scene of complete destruction. Panic time. I didn't plan for this, completely. I didn't think it would look this bad. There's bodies everywhere, civilian and uniformed. I lower the bird a couple stories, and from what I can tell, while the whole base put
up a good fight, a decent-sized horde must've passed through not too long ago. I had no idea.So much for being prepared.But we are, aren't we?I call to Gale, how much do you have on that belt? Count."Uh... seven, eight... twenty nine." Alright, grab another belt and tell me how many we have counting the one in his paw.I hear rustling and jingling and clinking and he calls back, "Five."Five hundred twenty nine rounds. Any horde that passed through here that could do that had to have been concentrated, and chances are, no bigger than maybe a thousand. Caro, I called, you and Shaun start counting ammunition cans. Each can will have exactly how many rounds it says on the side.I'm getting random numbers whispered or muttered, and then after maybe thirty seconds, Shaun says we've got about a thousand rounds of seven-six-two. Good, I tell him. Caro says about eight hundred five-five-six. How did that happen? Did we forget some? Oh well. You see, when your uncle is an arms dealer, you know you've got a good life laid out for you if the zombie apocalypse happens. And it looks like everything's playing out my way. The problem is, from what it looks like, we've got all these GUNS and all these BULLETS, but we're probably not gonna have enough FOOD or WATER. Which sucks balls. But of course, we could fight other people for food. We've got the shit. Maybe there's an Apache around here somewhere, I don't fucking know. I don't like the idea of taking food from people, but it's us or them. Sucks doesn't it? What if we end up being in that situation? Now isn't the time to ponder on humanity-- humanity. Hah. The majority of humans started disappearing around 1915 when splicing became a big thing for all the soldiers looking to get a genetic boost to help them survive the trenches. Smart, really. That's how most of us came to be, because our parents or grandparents or great grandparents started splicing, and we came out as half-human, half-animal amalgamates. I frankly love the idea of connecting to my wild side, but maybe that's because I was born that way. My family of dholes came around because the village we originated from in India RAN with the dholes instead of HUNTING them, so they thought, what better idea than to simply BECOME the dhole? And that's how yours truly came to be.The point is, the word humanity is ironic because most of us people don't even look remotely human, and when I say most, I mean about ninety per cent. Crazy isn't it? Moving on.1125 hoursI looked back at the rest of the 'crew'. I shouted, you guys need to get ready. Gale and I are gonna stay up here, swing around, take out fuckers from up top, provide support. I need you guys on the ground in the shit, got it? ETA one minute, Tower's not responding, we're taking this place for ourselves.Everyone nodded, and Felice got out of the copilot seat and grabbed an ArmaLite from one of the duffle bags. Gale was busy reloading and shit, and everybody else was getting ready. We were gonna do this dust-off, Vietnam style. Once we were directly over the entrance gate of the base, I lowered the helicopter and shouted at everyone to jump out. We hadn't quite touched down, and so the skids were maybe five feet off the ground. Soon as everyone dumped out, I looked back at Gale to make sure he was ready for what I had in mind. "Yeah, I'm good, let's go!" Affirming that, I pulled up and pressed on the right torque pedal to get a better view of our landing party. They had already engaged several suckers, and naturally, Caro was the only one who (out of all the weapons) picked MY katana for the job. Little shit's getting on my nerve.I hear Gale going to town in the back, firing off bursts of rounds, ratatatat, ratatat, ratatatat, ratatat. From my little bottom corner window I could see Infected pieces of shit falling, bodies everywhere. I lowered us a little more, keeping us about 45 feet above ground, so I could get a better look at the port side of our makeshift gunship. Port, I told him, port, there's at least fifteen on that side, take them out and save your boyfriend some trouble. He obliged and went to work, moving to the port side door.Storm called me over the headset, saying, "Jack, we're splitting into squads, Shaun and Caro are taking north, Felice and I are going south. Do you copy, over?" I decided now wasn't the time to bring petty arguments into this (Jeez-us, is it ever the time for anything?) and so I responded.Yeah,Storm, I copy. Listen, you better fucking watch out for Felice, if anything happens to him, I'll kill you. That aside... If you see anybody else, you see if they'll join up. We need all the help we can get. Over."Copy that, Jack, won't let him out of my sight. He's in good hands. Storm out."Gale kept jumping back and forth between different sides of the helicopter, taking shots at rotters, and I'll be honest, it was starting to throw off my attitude, and I mean aviation-wise. That's when Shaun decided he'd call in. "Jack, Jack, come in!" He sounds frantic, so I'm quick to answer.Go ahead, Shaun."We're getting cornered, over by Tower one-fife, we're in the tower... Shit, there's a lot of them, requesting support, over!"Now I feel like I'm actually in Vietnam. What's going on here? Did I not pick up enough people? Before I can even respond or just get over there, I here something, just barely, over the sound of the rotor blades. Someone's shooting a large caliber machine gun, like an M2 or something, because it sounds big, but it has a slow rate of fire. I hear Shaun come over the radio again, saying, "Well... Nevermind, Jack. We've got friendlies. Talk later, Shaun out." Friendlies. That means people are still
alive. This is good. Better than good. Gale looks over at me, grinning like the devil, he feels so proud of himself. I tell him to pay attention, you can brag later. Sometimes I feel he gets a little too giddy around machine-guns, like there's a natural born killer inside of that little doctor. Not that I ever doubted. One doesn't simply save lives without demanding some payment, I guess.Then I hear a female voice over the radio, and thank God, there's more people. "This is... Fuck... This is Sergeant Stevens, First Battalion, 1st SFAR... Requesting assistance at the Tower, anyone copy? Are we still fighting these fuckers?? Shit... FUCK OFF!!" The message cuts out as I start hearing gunshots, and I quickly pic up the mic.Sergeant Stevens, this is Whistler One, I'm about a quarter klick from the tower as we speak, en route to your position. I'll be there to pick you up, sit tight. This is good. This is more than good. This means we have a chance. I take the bird over to the tower and Gale goes to work on the mob that's swarming it-- there's at least twenty or thirty, and he's just mowing them down. He stops to reload and I call back Stevens to tell him to get his outside, now. I see the door swing open, and and a red fox holding an M4 comes dashing out, shoving walkers to the side as she sprints towards the bird. I lower her as much as I dare, and this girl JUMPS, grabs a skid, and starts trying to hoist herself up when Gale comes over to grab her arms and heave her inside the fuselage. He picks up the M60 again and finishes reloading and gets back to work. Stevens comes up to my seat to thank me, and I just tell her to shut up and shoot, there's ammo in a bag if she needs, several magazines, that shit, just get to work, we've gotta clear this place out. She grabs her sensitive ears and runs for a headset before sitting down by the port door and lifting her rifle again. She grabs two magazines from a bag, draws her empty one and sets it in the bag, and then takes a full one and knocks it against her helmet a couple times before shoving it into her M4 and sliding back the charging handle and letting it go.So the two of them are going to town, firing and shooting and shit, and I get another call from Storm. "Fuck, Jack, you need to get over here, there's a big group over by Mess Alpha, at least ten or twelve people, some of them are civvies! We're getting cornered though, whatever passed through here was BIG, because there's a shit load of these ugly things everywhere-- ah, fuck!! You son of a bitch!"Storm?Storm, come in."Shit... Jack... I'm alright. One tried to bite me, didn't let him. You need to get your ass over here, we just lost a guy-- oh... Fuck... Oh god..." He cuts off when I hear screaming in the background of his call, and I know some poor soul just got torn to pieces.The movies don't prepare you for how bad this stuff looks.There's blood staining the
grass, intestines and organs everywhere, and over two dozen... Things... Eating a man. Stevens nearly pukes, it's that horrifying. Gale comes over, and he's pissed. He tells Stevens to fucking MOVE, and he sits down and just starts shooting, not even bothering to fire in bursts. I try to tell him to stop, he's wasting ammo, but he doesn't listen. We swoop down, and Felice and Storm run up carrying a wailing horse with an arm bleeding like hell. "He got bit, I don't know what to do!" Felice screamed. Gale told him to just leave him, he'd deal with the guy.So Gale reaches into the medical bag and pulls out a thick cord. I know what he's going to do. He then goes for a machete, and the horse is just clutching his right arm, screaming and shit like a baby, and I don't blame him. Gale gets alcohol and just pours the shit all over the guy's arm, and he screams more. The tiger leans over him and says, "I need you to be still. I have to amputate your arm."And by that point, the guy's lost all feeling. And it's No.And don't.Please. Help.Me.Don't.My arm.Don't.Please-- Gale acts swiftly, with Stevens trying to hold the guy down, ether rag already prepped, and over his face, tourniquet ready, and Gale raises the machete, hears one more plea from the horse, ignores it, and then slams the blade down. I wonder if it left a dent in the floor of my bird...The sound is sickening, and I can hear it even over the whir of the rotor blades. I don't dare look back. That guy is gonna need his space after that. After seeing the bite, I know he's lost his arm just below the elbow. Good luck surviving with that, I guess. Man, the movies don't get anything right.With that tourniquet on, even then, there's still a decent trickle of blood from the artery, but it stops after a few seconds. Gale knows he's going to need to cauterize it soon, I think, only because I know he will. I'm doing whatever I can to not think about it. Think about the mess. Don't think that. Look at the dials. Attitude's off just a hair. Altitude is 40 feet. Hovering. Stable now. Fuel is low, range is probably another twenty miles. Gonna have to land.Gale, we need to land.Gale.Gale.No answer.This is the story of my life.1201 hoursFaveWatchPoolsReport