***Quick Prologue***
During the first couple days of the initial outbreak, United States European Command was kept apprised of the situation in England until their forces in RAF Mildenhall and RAF Lakenheath were the only ones left. By the third day, USEUCOM had lost contact completely and any communication with British forces proved useless as they were in complete disarray. That same day, ground search and rescue operations had mobilized from deployable bases in Europe and landed on the bays of Suffolk to help survivors and scout what was happening.
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*Day 3
The HMMWV made rattling noises and frequently moaned like a dying whale while it was trying to push it's top speed. It couldn't have been more than 50 or 60 mph, Sergeant First Class Lockett guesstimated. He didn't bother asking the driver about their speed because that wasn't an issue, however the vehicles ahead of them in the convoy starting to get distance on them was.
"Can you go any faster?", Lockett asked his driver.
"Pedal's on the metal, sergeant", replied Specialist Valdez.
Lockett keyed what looked like an angled telephone receiver that was the radio mic. "2 Alpha, 2."
Nothing.
"2... Alpha… This… is… 2", Lockett said slowly. He hoped part of his message would get through if these radios were garbling them up.
Static came over the speakers. Probably a response.
"Somebody relay to 2 Alpha that he needs to slow down, convoys falling behind", Lockett announced over the radio.
Not a second after he let go of the key, all the vehicles visible in front of him had their break lights on and Lockett was suddenly grabbed by his seatbelt as his body propelled forward. The convoy scrunched up like a slinky as they came to a quick halt.
Lockett re-keyed his mic, "No I didn't say stop, I said…"
"Hey 2, this is Alpha", blared the speaker.
Lockett inhaled and utilized the next few seconds to collect his nerves. That came in louder then Lockett would have liked and it also sounded like Alpha's TC (Tactical Commander, refering to anyone in the passenger seat of a military vehicle) was speaking with his mic inside his mouth.
"Send it, Alpha."
"Hey… we're going to have to get off 1066 right here, I can't push this many cars out of the way. We should be able to find a detour at this exit back on to the same route several clicks down."
"Roger Alpha, stand by one."
Lockett looked down at the half unfolded topographic map of Suffolk on his lap. He couldn't believe he was actually staring at a map in a combat mission. None of this was believable. No, it wasn't a virus that made the entire English population apparently kill each other in rage that he couldn't believe. It was the first generation M1025 HMMWVs, antiquated SINCGAR radios, and a MAP with a COMPASS he was given to work with. Back in Afghanistan, he had up-armored M1114s, the much more smaller ASIP radio that allowed everyone to use headsets like pilots would, and the Blue Force Tracker system that was essentially a computer for the TC to use that acted as both GPS and instant messenger between trucks and that was what he was used to.
It hadn't even been an hour since Lockett and his men touched ground from Germany with whatever scrounged up equipment and vehicles they can get their hands on.
It's all fucked, Lockett thought as he searched the map for their current position. It would have only taken a few more seconds to confirm Alpha's prediction about the detour when he heard the rapid thumping of a machine gun.
"They're coming and they're coming fast! We're getting the hell out of here!" Alpha said frantically. Their 5 ton truck, modified with a bulldozer's blade welded to its front, led the way down the off ramp with its gunner's .50 cal blazing.
Valdez put the vehicle back into gear and followed the convoy off the highway. As soon as they got to the off ramp themselves, their own gunner started firing. Private Banner's lower half of his body, the only part that the driver and TC can see from inside the truck, was spinning around on a little mesh hammock being used as the gunner's seat. The rattling of their truck was now accompanied by the machine guns speaking to each other and the pinging noises the brass made trickling down from the gunner's hatch into the truck.
As soon as their humvee was about to clear the off ramp, a loud thud forced Valdez and Lockett to jerk their heads up. The top of the vehicle was slightly dented in followed by Banner's leg flailing wildly.
Lockett grabbed a hold of one of his legs.
"Banner! Hey Banner! You alright?!"
Valdez jerked his steering wheel as he didn't slow down when the road curved right once they cleared the off ramp. Lockett noticed a figure falling off his roof and tumbling uncontrollably on the pavement through the driver side windows. All he caught was the long hair and the skirt of this woman who apparently jumped on top of their humvee when all of a sudden, he was staring at Banner's bloody face with hands reaching for his face.
Lockett batted the arms away and managed to push Banner's advancing body towards the backseats. Lockett grabbed his M4 rifle that was tucked barrel down next to the door but before he can aim it at Banner, Lockett was engulfed in some kind of putrid liquid. Every orifice on his face was burning and he managed to let out a short scream before he starting gagging.
Valdez could do nothing but swivel his head back and forth from the road to the puzzling melee within his truck.
"Sergeant Lockett!"