Chapter seven up.

Captain Kurt Hoffman: God bless you. Every review on here helps. Already went through the other stuff in my reply to your review, so… enjoy.

This officially begins Day 2 of the outbreak. Yeah, I know, not much for Day 1, save the battle and the separation. But there's not much to Day 1 to begin with, Part One of Jill's adventure already took place, and I wanna roll into the rest of the story, so onward to Day 2.

Enjoy.


Chapter Seven: Break-out

"thunk" "thunk" "thunk" "thunk"

Tom tapped his knife against the wall out of sheer boredom. He glanced at his watch. 1:36. They had been on the ground for a little over four hours now. It was technically the second day of the outbreak. And they were still stuck in that Godforsaken house with the decapitated head floating in the pot in the kitchen.

After the soup incident, the situation settled down somewhat. The only real concern was the fact that those… whatever they were were still clawing at the door, trying to break it down. The sergeant doubted that even the reinforcements they had stacked against it would hold them off forever.

"Would you please stop that fucking tapping?" Cribbs snapped, hand covering his eyes, "It's giving me a goddam headache."

Tom sighed and shoved his knife back into its sheath. He glanced back at the door, at the sounds of those things scratching, clawing, trying to break through. It was nerve-racking. He didn't want to be killed by those things, but just waiting for them to break in- that was the killer. It was mental games playing in his head, all sorts of different outcomes, what it might be like.

It sucked.

"Jackson, how's it going back there?" he called back.

No response. Instead, the machine gunner just waltzed right through.

"Nothing," he said, "Not a fucking thing, and it's fucking with my mind. I swear to God, Sarge, I can't take this shit anymore. I gotta get outta here."

"Jackson, calm down, for Chrissakes. None of us can take it either," Tom replied.

"No, seriously, Sarge, I can't deal. Those things are gonna drive me up a fucking wall. I'd rather try fighting out there than being cooped up in here, just waiting for them to break through. Quick and painless."

"The way those things are killing, I doubt it'll be quick and painless."

"Sarge-"

"Just sit the fuck down, Jackson, for Gods sakes."

The machine gunner grumbled but otherwise obeyed. Nelson came in at that point.

"Sarge, we just shut the radio off. We're not getting so much as shit out of that thing," he sighed and flopped down.

"Great," Jackson started, "We've got no communications, it's ten to one between the two parties, and the only food comes from a severed head in a pot. I swear to God, we're all gonna die in this shit place-"

"Jackson, if you do not shut the fuck up and sit still, I swear to God, I'm gonna personally feed you to those things myself, understand?" Tom snapped angrily.

His subordinate nodded swiftly, almost scared by his friend's sudden anger.

"And for Chrissakes, Cribbs, can't you do something about that shoulder?"

"It won't stop bleeding!" Cribbs said exasperated, placing another fresh Compress on the

wound, "I don't get it, this is like the fourth Compress I've put on it."

"Nelson, check it out," Tom ordered. Nelson nodded and began checking the wound out. Jackson cursed and went back to the back room.

It was just an overall shitty situation. He was afraid the guys would all start freaking out. And in a combat zone, that wasn't something he needed to deal with. That, and the fact that Cribbs looked like he was he was gonna bleed to death. That wound really did look nasty. Already it had turned purple, and it looked horribly disfigured. And the sergeant had also acknowledged the change in his friends' condition. Cribbs was awfully pale, and his eyes seemed bloodshot. His attitude sucked too- he had an excruciating headache, he was snapping at everything thrown at him, and there were some moments where he looked ready to whip out his .45 and shoot someone.

"I can't figure out what's wrong," Nelson sat back down on the floor, "It's only a bite wound, but there's something just not right about it. Like whatever bit him had hit an artery or something, it just won't quit bleeding. I put some Curlex in under the Compress and gave him a morphine shot just to calm him down."

"Great. Just perfect," Tom said, really not all that ecstatic.

"Cheer up, guys," Cribbs said, shrugging, "At least it can't get any worse."

BAM!

The crash was so loud and sudden that the door shook on its hinges. All three men jumped up and aimed their weapons at the door, praying that whatever was banging that hard wasn't going to get in.

"What've I told you about doing that?" Tom snapped.

"Doing what?" demanded Cribbs.

"That fucking 'can't-get-any-worse' bullshit. Every single time you say that, guess what- THINGS GET WORSE!!!"

"Can we please have this conversation some other time?" Nelson came in with.

BAM! Another slam.

"What the hell's going on up there?" they heard Jackson cry.

"We may have a problem," Tom called back.

A third BAM! and this time, the door almost gave way.

"Scratch that. We do have a problem!"

Jackson stalked up and almost fainted when he saw the giant cracks in the door. He decided to just ready his SAW and prepare for breach.

"Get ready for breach," Tom told his men, "Aim for the heads. If we get overrun, we'll fall back to the upstairs, toss a grenade each to weed them out. We're not dying here, you understand me? We're Delta Ops. Meaning whatever comes through that door is gonna get its ass kicked. No man's gonna get us."

And with a fourth BAM!, the door gave way.

And what had busted it down was in no way a man.

It was a large, lizard-like creature that stood on its hind legs. It had three razor-sharp claws on each hand, and the look on its face suggested that it saw the four soldiers as food instead of a decent threat. It roared a tyrannical roar, and revealed to them the true terror it possessed.

"Oh, shi-"

Before Tom could finish that sentence, the creature was joined by four others. And behind them, their assailants from the LZ were pushing to get through.

"Does that ass-kicking rule apply to giant lizard men too?" Jackson asked meekly.

The leader roared again. And the attack started.

The lizards came at them. Delta Eight wasted no time. A hail of bullets flew from their rifles and into the oncoming wave. Two fell, pelted in all sorts of places. The other three jumped, one crawled on the walls, another on the ceiling. The other attackers, finally allowed room, pushed in and came in a drove.

"Fuck!" the sergeant screamed. The group backed away, still firing all they had into the giant tidal wave that threatened to engulf them. The more they shot, however, the more desperate their situation got.

The lizard on the roof dropped down and landed on Tom, causing both to fall to the floor. Tom did his best to hold him off, but the hands shot out faster than his 100 yard dash time in track. They went all over the place, claws extracted, piercing where his head was. He dodged every blow as best he could, but he was getting pretty tired.

In a burst of strength, the sergeant slammed his foot into the thing's chest and pushed it up long enough for him to reach to his belt and pull out his trusty combat knife. He lifted it and jammed it into the creature's brain, then kicked it three times off him.

Just as soon as that threat passed, the fourth monster took this one's place on the Delta soldier's chest, trying to do what his brethren couldn't

Oh, gimme a freaking break, Tom thought as his struggle continued.

Thankfully, this time it was ended by Jackson and a quick burst from the Godsend of a SAW, riddling the thing so badly its arms were torn off.

The machine gunner helped his team leader to his feet. They surveyed the scene. The room was a mess, and quickly getting crowded. Cribbs and Nelson were doing their best, but it was just too big.

"Shit, Sarge, if you've got a master plan, now would be a time for it," Jackson said between spurts of fire.

"Fall back to the upstairs! GO!" Tom screamed, grabbing his knife and firing his CAR-15 into a few heads.

Jackson covered Nelson as the medic dove for the stairs, then he followed. Tom and Cribbs bolted up the stairs and almost made it to the top when Tom came to a horrifying realization.

Anna's picture was gone.

He glanced back at the mess he had left. There it was. Right at the bottom of the steps, just as he had run up them. And beyond that, the horde was coming closer.

Just forget it! The voice in his head snapped, it's a fucking picture! You can ask for another one when this is all over! There will be other pictures… hell, other girls!

Bullshit.

Taking a deep breath, and praying to God that this would come back to bite him in the ass, he fastened his helmet to his head, fingered his beloved rifle, and head-rolled down the steps. He grabbed the photo and, at the same time, jammed the barrel of his CAR-15 into an attacker's head, and pulled the trigger.

"SARGE, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!" Jackson screamed, "YOU'RE GONNA GET YOURSELF KILLED!!!"

Cribbs looked back to see his friend now engaging in a rifle-butt-to-the-head smashing the enemy, and he was quickly becoming surrounded.

"Sonuva…" he groaned, and then passed Nelson his M-4. "Hold this."

"Wait, wha-"

Before Nelson could finish the sentence, Cribbs let out a loud war-yell and thrust himself down the stairs and sank a foot into an enemy skull, cracking it.

"GO! GO!" he screamed, pushing his friend up. Both crawled on their hands and knees back up the stairs with their enemy closing behind them.

CHOMP! Cribbs let out a wild scream, clearly in deep pain. One of the attackers had grabbed a hold and took a deep bite out of his leg. Cribbs fell backwards, soon engulfed by their pressing assailants.

"CRIBBS!!!" Tom screamed as his friends screams were heard amongst ripping and tearing of skin.

He dove back in while Jackson and Nelson opened fire from the top of the stairs. Bullets slammed into backs, chests, and a few skulls, but these things were as relentless as ever. They pressed forward with that vacant expression that both amazed and terrified the living shit out of them.

Tom yanked Cribbs out of their hold and began dragging his heavily wounded friend out of the mess. It wasn't easy; Cribbs was older, and heavier, than he was. He dragged his friend in one hand and was steadily firing his CAR-15 with the other.

A hiss was heard. The final lizard man was moving towards them. And no amount of bullets in his gun alone would do the trick.

"THROW A GRENADE!" Tom shouted up to Jackson.

"I throw it now, the blast'll kill you-" said Jackson.

"JACKSON, GODDAM IT, JUST THROW THE FUCKING GRENADE ALREADY!!!"

The machine gunner reached for a grenade as Tom hurriedly dragged Cribbs up the stairs. About three-quarters up, Jackson pulled the pin, flipped the switch, and threw it down.

Almost there… Tom saw the grenade fly by, almost in slow motion, just as the lizard jumped. The grenade landed in its mouth and, in surprise, it fell backwards and on top of the group below. Almost…

They made it. Jackson and Nelson grabbed Cribbs by his vest and pulled him up and behind the wall while Tom rolled behind.

BOOOOM!!!! The blast was deafening, the explosion great. To their joy, bits and pieces of the lizard man was seen flying up as well. But their joy did not last; the sound of the army below was still heard, moaning and crawling up the stairs after them.

"GET INTO THE BEDROOM!" ordered Tom.

The three men dragged Cribbs through the open door. Nelson slammed it shut, locked it, and shoved the dresser in front of it.

They took a little breather. But it was short-lived.

"Oh, great job, Sarge!" Jackson yelled hysterically, "Perfect plan! Wish I'd thought of it, jumping down at them!"

"Jackson, shut up!" Tom screamed at him, heading for him. Nelson held him back.

"Easy, man, easy," he said.

"Fuckin' Christ."

Cribbs was examining his body. His uniform was torn and bloody; his vest was shredded in the middle; bite marks were all over his arms, legs, chest, and face.

"Jesus," he said, "I look like a fucking cruncy-munchy."

"Great leadership skills, Sarge," Jackson went on, "really great, I'll recommend you for a commission to Sullivan… if we ever get out of here!"

"You know what?" Tom crossed the room, grabbed his subordinate by the vest and slammed him against the wall, "How about I permanently shut your fucking face for you!!"

"HEY!" Nelson yelled, "This isn't helping!"

Tom threw Jackson backwards and stormed around the room, fuming. Outside, the familiar scratching on the door could again be heard, along with the spine-tingling moans.

"So what do we do now, Sarge?" Cribbs asked.

"Oh, come ON, Cribbs! After he almost got you turned into a chew toy, you're still gonna follow him?" exclaimed Jackson.

"I'd follow him to the gates of Hell and back, Jackson," snapped Cribbs, "and if you were smart, you'd do the same. He's team leader, and he outranks you."

"Like that means shit around here," the machine gunner muttered. Cribbs glared daggers at him. Jackson sighed.

"Sorry, Sarge," he said, sincerely enough.

"It's alright, man," Tom sat down on the bed and put his head in his hands. "I fucked us back there. All over a stupid picture that ain't even worth shit anymore."

"Hey man," Cribbs placed a bloody hand on his shoulder, "It was important to you. You did alright. Not the smartest thing in the world, but it was still alright."

The sergeant grinned. Leave it to Cribbs. Even after looking worse than Foley that night he ate too many Sloppy Joes, he still managed to have a positive thing to say about him. "Thanks man," he answered.

"So…." Nelson looked towards the door, the sounds of the enemy still there, then back, "any idea how we're getting out of here?"

"Uh…" Tom's brain was formulating a plan. He glanced down at the bed he was sitting on. A light bulb went on as stood up.

"OK, Jackson, Nelson, help me pick this up. Cribbs, get that window open," he ordered.

Cribbs opened the window as the other three lifted the mattress and rolled it up. Tom directed them from the end as they inched towards the opening. The tip hit the edge, and from there they just slid it out and it landed fully open onto the ground.

"Right, Nelson, you're first. Cribbs, you're next. Jackson, you wanna go, or-?"

"Naw, Sarge, you go. I'll cover you," Jackson stated firmly.

Tom nodded. "Alright, get ready-"

BAM! The door was about to give way again.

"Go, Nelson, Go!" screamed Tom.

Nelson jumped feet first, landed on the bed, and rolled off and took a knee, MP-5 ready.

"Cribbs!"

Cribbs pulled himself onto the window, wincing with every movement, as each brought him excruciating pain. His body was halfway out the window when the door was hit with another BAM! and he tumbled out. Tom glanced after him, afraid he'd miss the bed.

But he didn't. He landed perfectly onto the mattress. Nelson grabbed him and helped him off.

Tom threw down Cribbs' M-4 and turned to Jackson, who had his SAW fixed on the door.

BAM! Yet again, the door almost came.

"SARGE, GO!" the machine gunner ordered. Tom barreled out the window as the door finally gave with a CRASH!

He landed on the bed and stood just in time to hear the machine gun fire and screams coming from the room they had just left.

Shit… Jackson's dead, was his immediate thought. They were down a man. And with Cribbs in this condition, it wasn't good. Damn, he thought, why didn't I stay? Now I gotta answer to his family and-

"COWABUNGA!!!!"

Tom looked up just in time to see his friend barrel out the window and land directly on the bed. He sat up and brushed himself off.

"Nice landing," Nelson laughed.

"Alright, we ready?" Tom asked.

"Ye- Aw, shit! I forgot the radio," Jackson looked back at the kitchen window.

"Forget it, Jackson. It doesn't even work," said Cribbs.

"I have to go back for it."

"Jackson, WAIT!" Tom tried to stop him, but Jackson grabbed his SAW, charged over, and barreled through the window, smashing the glass.

There was more shooting and screaming in the kitchen, and for the second time in under five minutes, Tom thought that was the last he would see of his friend. But seconds later, the gunner tumbled out the window, the SINCGARS strapped to his back. He rejoined his unit.

"OK, now I'm set," he said.

The Delta Eight sergeant couldn't help but grin.

"OK, move it out!"

The team moved out, Tom in front, Jackson in back, covering Nelson as he helped the wounded Cribbs down the street. The team moved out into their first full day, none knowing where they were going or what they would meet.

But at least they were free.


…Wow.

I don't even know where the inspiration for that came from.

At first, I just thought I'd do what I did before, but then I got the idea for a battle, and then the thought of the Hunters bursting through (the scene where they came through the door was, I think, inspired from a scene in Return of the King.), and then the rest just came and made… this.

Well, OK, in my original draft, Cribbs was supposed to have multiple bite wounds, not just the single one I gave him last time.

Sorry for the long wait. Hope you like it.

Review please!