"Homecoming"

Chapter Three - Day 15: Evacuation


The chain-link fence that made up the gate was bent out of shape. The two hummers that held them in place were dented and scratched. The outside of the metal perimeter was covered in blood. The charred bodies were a testament to the soldiers' knowledge of biohazard disposal. No one wanted to go outside and bury the infected dead. They didn't know exactly how it spread and they certainly didn't want to discover exactly how through trial and error.

The skies were still blue, yet they were marred by the pillars of smoke rising from nearby cities and blockades. The soldiers had a rough week. That was a given. But things seemed to be looking up for the rest of the country. It was confirmed that the infection wasn't spreading west as many thought it would. Too much open land, they said. The crazies would get disoriented, picked off by patrolling helicopters or die by the elements. Good thing, Doyle thought. They only had half the nation to worry about…

Alarms and sirens were prohibited in the base. The commanders worried that they might act as an invitation to any infected within hearing range. Instead, soldiers perched on the perimeter would wave a large flag around on the side where infected were spotted. A neat system, but it didn't get the soldiers to the fence as fast as a siren would have.

Supplies were running low. Convoys didn't dare to attempt to make a push through the area, and the soldiers of the base were in no rush to attempt either. But if something didn't happen soon to remedy their shortage, then they'd have to leave. No question.

Contributing to the blockade. That's what the troopers thought they were doing and that's why they had no desire to leave immediately. Every infected killed was another life saved down the line.

Doyle peered through the binoculars and out to the north of the base. A mushroom of smoke appeared. Three more began to rise along side it before the sound of the explosion was heard.

"What the hell are they doing?" Doyle whispered to himself. A few seconds later, a formation of fighter jets came into sight from the direction of the smoke. They shrieked overhead and disappeared into the distance.

--

"Bad news, ladies," the commander stood atop one of the hummers and spoke to crowd of soldiers. He referred a piece of paper on a clipboard. "We are now officially riding in the danger zone. The air force just began bombing the surrounding areas to drive the sickos down towards Manhattan."

"Why Manhattan, sir?" a soldier raised his hand.

"Commerce. Why else?" The crowd laughed off their uncertainty. They had no better reason to laugh lately. "Back to what I was saying, those explosions are going to drive every blood-spewing mother in our direction. Come nightfall, we're gonna have our hands full to put it lightly. Case and point, we're not needed here any longer. So we're evacuating."

Everyone began to shake their heads. The idea of going outside didn't sit well with them.

"Don't worry, you pansies. We have air-support enroute. If all goes according to plan, then our angels should be coming in over that fence just as soon as hell decides to pay us a visit."

--

For the rest of the day, the men began to gather what was left of the supplies: weapons, ammunition and the rest of the food. The vehicles were going to be useless when the helicopters showed up, so they were used to brace any weak spots in the metal perimeter. "We'll be out of here before those buggers ever get near us," the commanders would reiterate over and over again. Doyle could see right through them. They were just as nervous as the rest of the unit. The thought that the air support wouldn't get to them before the infected did terrified them. For the past week, they had been fighting any groups that strayed off into the country, not a concentrated lot that was being pushed towards them.

As the sun began to sink behind the horizon, the lookouts were frantically scanning the lighted parts of the sky for the choppers. Before nightfall, that's what they said. Their hopes began to dim with the fading light. The stars were out now, and there wasn't even a transponder blip on their radar.

"They supposed to be this late?" Damion asked Doyle as they sat on the perimeter wall. The commander had ordered all of the lights turned out and to have small groups sit on the walls with night vision goggles.

"We should have been on a chopper an hour ago," Doyle looked out over the field. "I'm guessing they hit a snag."

"A snag, eh? I guess we're boned then. A snag these days means—"

"I know, man. Just try not to think about it. If you start panicking then I'm pushing you over the wall."

"Screw you," Damion chuckled. "If we get swarmed, I'ma feed you to them so I can get away."

"Glad you think so highly of me."

"Your mom thinks highly of me too."

Doyle leaned over and pretended to push Damion over the edge. The two laughed. "Your life's in my hands, bitch."

"I'm just gonna jump off myself then."

The snap of a twig breaking shut them up in a hurry.

"Hear that?" Doyle began to search the field frantically.

"Might have been a bird, huh?" Damion switched on his night vision as well.

"Might have been something else, too."

"Hope you're wrong," whispered Damion. "I just wanted to get out of here without firing my weapon for one night at least."

Doyle looked back towards the base. None of the other perimeter guards were signaling anything. The night was quiet once again. Maybe Damion was right about that bird, Doyle assured himself. The rustle of the grass began to intensify.

"Turning into a windy night," Doyle pointed out. "Gonna be hard to hear things now."

Damion pulled off one of his gloves and held his bare hand up into the air. He quickly replaced the glove. "It ain't windy, Doyle." He pulled out his flashlight and clicked it on and off towards the guards in the base. Everyone began to silently move to their positions. The guards on the perimeter began to lower themselves down.

Turning back to the field briefly before descending the wall, Doyle caught a glimpse of a very large group of people. They were hunched over and tensed up and walking at a very rapid pace. Their eyes glowed like headlights in the infrared.

The whole base was quiet. No one wanted to move or breathe for that matter. They were silent enough so that the footsteps outside the base could be heard throughout.

"Do we fire?" asked Damion in Doyle's ear.

Doyle shook his head. "We just want them to pass us by."

The soldiers of the base sat nervously for several minutes. Every now and then they would hear growls and hisses from the other side of the wall. The men would pass looks of fright and confusion to each other as the footsteps continued on. Before long, the crickets in the field began to chirp once again and the rustle of the grass faded into the distance.

Everyone took a breath of relief.

"I think I pissed myself," came a voice from a corner of the base. The men laughed as quietly as they could. They all wanted to erupt and laugh away the harsh reality of things—but they couldn't.

Flashlights began to switch on.

The commander walked across saying the same thing over and over to each of the men so he wouldn't have to yell it. "Keep quiet and prep for evac."

One of the soldiers walked over to the hummers by the gate. He wanted to siphon the rest of the gasoline out of the tanks before the choppers came. Gas might be hard to come by, he thought.

As he approached the gate, he heard the chain-link fence moving. He switched on his flashlight and shined in the direction of the movement. One of the guards positioned near the gate had been pulled up against it. His mouth was covered by a small arm reaching through a chink in the fence. The guard's eyes were beginning to turn red and roll back into his head and his arm was pulled through another gap. It was being chewed on viciously by a red-eyed teenage boy on the other side.

"Shit!" the soldier yelled. He pulled out his gun and fired a single round. It penetrated through the guard and into the boy, killing both. The gunshot echoed through the night sky.

"Who the hell did that?!" the commander yelled out.

That's when the wave of screams filled the air. They had heard it. The ground began to vibrate under the infected mob's movement.

"Prepare to engage!" the commander ran through the base and made sure everyone was in their positions.

The walls had thus far been able to withstand the abuse of any infected groups that attacked the base. Because of this, most of the soldiers took positions near the gate and on the walls next to the gate.

Doyle and Damion got up on the walls with their rifles.

"Snipers, are they close?" the commander called to the two.

Doyle flipped on his night vision and found the field full of shining eyes. Thousands. The scene looked liked the very star-filled night sky they sat under. "Yes, sir, we have incoming!" he called back.

The infected ran at full steam towards the gate, their screams intensifying as they did. As they slammed into the gate and the walls, Doyle and Damion almost lost their balance.

Right away, anyone who had a clear shot opened fire. Bodies fell, but not easily. Most shook off their wounds and continued to attack the gate and the walls. To Doyle, they seemed almost desperate to get inside and shred the unit to pieces.

"We can't possibly attract more attention, sir!" Damion yelled.

"Alright then," the commander responded. "Hit the lights!"

The spotlight clapped on and brought the horror into full view.

"No way we can hold all of them off!" Damion panicked.

"We have to!" Doyle said. "We don't have any other option."

The dead had begun to pile up at the gate and the other infected were using them as stepping stools to reach the top of the gate.

One of the other men on the wall pulled out a grenade and dropped it just below him into the crowd.

"No! No grenades!" Doyle saw he was too late and turned away from that direction.

The grenade exploded, sending blood and debris all over the wall. The soldier who had thrown the grenade began to rub his eye as if something had gotten in it. He began to shake and rubbed his eye harder. Not able to control himself anymore, he toppled over the wall and into the crowd. A minute later, he was pressed up against the gate trying to get in. Hissing and scratching along with the others.

"What happened?!" Damion asked.

"Blood in his eye," Doyle didn't look up from the scope of his rifle. Every bullet counted. Headshots whenever he could. Every bullet counted...

The gate began to bend out of place. It wasn't going to last long.

"If they break through," the commander yelled to the men, "run to the barracks and lock yourselves in!"

That won't work, Doyle thought. They would bust through those cheap metal walls as if they were made of paper.

"I guess we'll be perched up here for a while then," Damion tried to joke. He fired another shot.

Everyone was so focused on the gate that they didn't notice the two transport helicopters slowly lowering themselves into the base.

Doyle looked over and saw their angels. "Halleluiah," he said. "Let's get the hell out of here." He and Damion jumped off of the wall and made their way towards the choppers.

As the men abandoned their posts to run to the transports, the infected were able to attack the gate in full force now.

A man helped Doyle and Damion aboard the chopper. They felt free now. Free from this hell.

The gate broke and the mob began to push their way into the base. Their sights set on the helicopters.

A few of the soldiers had fallen behind. The helicopters began to lift off without them.

"Wait!" Damion yelled to the pilot. "We still have men down there!"

The pilot ignored him and continued to pull back on the controls.

"Help me, Doyle," Damion began to lean out of the door to offer a hand to the soldiers. Doyle grabbed his friends hand and helped him lean out as far as he could.

Two of the men tripped over each other and were consumed by the mob. The last straggler jumped up and grabbed Damion's hand.

"Pull me in!" the soldier screamed. "Pull me in!"

"Hold up," Damion strained to pull the man in. He felt his shoulder being pulled tighter. The infected had grabbed onto the dangling soldier. They pulled him back towards the ground.

Damion was abruptly pulled through the door. The soldier screamed as he was pulled into the crowd. Damion loosened his grip and let the soldier go.

"Doyle!" Damion yelled. "I lost him."

"Get him back inside!" the pilot shouted to Doyle. "We're off balance!"

Another infected leapt up out of the crowd and now had grip on Damion.

"No! Doyle!" Hundreds of hands grabbed his uniform and began to pull him down.

Doyle grabbed onto the handrails inside the door of the helicopter with his other hand. His face turned red as he fought to save his friend's life. The other soldiers in the cabin all gripped Doyle to ensure that he too was not pulled out.

"Damion!" Doyle fought to keep his grip on Damion's hand.

The helicopter gained more elevation.

Doyle felt his shoulder pop out of its socket. The pain consumed him. The last thing he remembered before blacking out from the pain was Damion's fingers slipping out from his glove.