Hey Zombies
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10 Seconds
"Simple job gentlemen, supply drop just like the rest except we have a bit more ground to cover. Everything within a five mile range of Denison has been scanned by drones so you're going into uncharted territory. From what the drones detected, you will have minimal resistance as far as human encounters, but we can't speak for the infected population. Last we heard, the hordes of infected in Vegas are still roaming the streets and very few have spread out into the Nevada outskirts. Since we are pressing for time; and supplies as minimal as they are in their current state, we cannot wait for the helicopters to return from their reconnaissance mission in the east, we'll have to travel on ground. Complete discretion and caution are required on this mission. Krieg has been researching these new jock mutations and so far the results are not good. We haven't encountered any yet, but I can't guarantee the same for you guys. The 801st squad will take the lead in an armored personnel carrier while Arnold's team will follow in a standard truck that will be used to haul the supplies back here. You're just there for that, retrieving the care package contents and nothing else. We will provide you with proper defense according to your training, proceed to the armory and you will each be provided with a weapon. Then at 1400 you will meet up with the 801st and hit the road. Any questions?...Good, dismissed."
The crowd slowly dispersed, Arnold saw his father waiting by the exit and approached him as everybody else left.
"You didn't tell him yet?" Arnold asked. Miles looked in confusion, "Goose, about my friends and I. Our...abilities."
"You think I plan on telling him? The less he knows about what's going on the better." Miles replied, crossing his arms.
"The less he knows...? Dad are you seriously trusting Victor over Goose?"
"Victor's a snake yes, knowing him, he's ready to tear you and your friends apart to find out what's making those powers of yours tick if you let him, but at least he's innovative in what the hell's going on out there." Arnold was silent, his distrust began to grow.
"Just keep it on the down low, don't give yourselves away, only if you're in a tight spot should you use your foresight and tell Gerald no burning shit with his hands." Miles demanded frugally. Arnold chuckled.
"Will do dad," he said as he prepared to leave.
"Wait, son." Miles stopped him. Arnold turned back, "Victor's been asking again about the trip...have you reconsidered at all?" Arnold's joy melted from his face.
Miles could see Arnold's reaction crystal clear, "We need to re-think what we're doing here. Nothing's gonna matter until we go back and get help from the Green Eyed-"
"No." Arnold replied, "We've got people coming in day in and day out, some of them may be people we know, someone we may know might still be out there. We need to keep looking."
"You don't know tha-"
"I made Stinky a promise." Arnold interrupted, "Earlier today, I watched him slump against a wall and break down in tears because his girlfriend was killed when we took Denison and because he misses his parents. Who's to say Phoebe, or Harold, Eugene, Charlie, Nadine feel the same way?!" Miles was speechless.
"What do I tell them? Drop all their hope and come along with me on a magical mystery tour in the beautiful San Lorenzo jungle? Forget it!...I made a promise to Stinky that I will make for every single fucking one of them..." Arnold finished. He turned and marched away from his father, still standing there in awe.
Stella came from around the corner, "I heard all of that..." She said as she wrapped her arms around Miles' shoulders.
"Our boy is growing up...but he has so much more to learn."
"He's gonna be a father Miles, passion will blind him just as much as it does you." Stella said as Miles turned to give her a kiss.
"I just hope for his sake...it doesn't take a tragedy to get him to snap out of it..."
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1400 Hours
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The sun shined brightly at a 45 degree angle onto the base as Arnold's team hopped in their truck. The 801st was loaded in the APC and the engines of both vehicles purred. Harold drove the truck, Stinky rode shotgun; whilst Gerald, Arnold and Charlie sat in the back, decked out in their defense gear, standard kevlar body armor and M14 carbine rifles. Each had their own unique weapons: Arnold with his revolver, Charlie had a Walther PP7 custom made from the armorers, Gerald scavenged dual Berettas from their Denison raid a few months back and had Alpha provide him with suppressors for both. Harold was given a black Desert Eagle with silver lining, and Stinky settled for a nickel plated Colt .45 M19A11. The front gate rolled itself open and the APC revved its engine once more before taking off through the open gate. Harold floored it with the truck and they hit the road. Arnold and the rest bounced in the back of the truck as its wheels hopped over the gate track and onto the smooth asphalt road.
Arnold combed over his body, checking for everything until he patted the emptiest part of his waist belt. His radio was gone.
"Shit." He exclaimed.
"What's goin on buddy?" Gerald asked.
"My walkie, I wasn't carrying it this whole time..."
"Never thought of you to be incompetent Arnold, aren't you supposed to be perfect?" Stinky asked with a wink. Arnold grinned cheek to cheek, not just at Stinky's jest but out of joy that Stinky's mood was picking up from their encounter earlier that day.
"I've got my radio bro, and we've still got the CB in the cab with Harold, we're covered." Gerald reassured his friend. Arnold sighed and just leaned back in his seat.
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"There they go." Cody said from his hiding spot in a bushel that the truck and APC sped past, "Time to get movin kid." He said, standing up. John crawled out from a nearby similar bush.
"Who do you think is in there?" John asked.
"Who cares, whatever they bring back still won't be enough to feed us. If Shortman tries to offer some of that shit they bring back, his son is as good as dead. Let's move, we should reach Denison by nightfall." With that, Cody took off with John not too far behind as the sun continued to hang in the sky, barely touching the desert horizon.
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Helga finished Pride and Prejudice, her fourth novel in the last few months and set it on her dresser. Barely any light shined through her window, the clock read 7:32. Some library this place has got, she thought. Suddenly there was a knock on the door.
A bit suspect considering it was dark; who would want to talk to a pregnant girl at 8 in the evening? Helga carefully got off the bed and waddled to the door, peaking through the eyehole. Pure blackness, almost like the hole was being blocked...Helga gripped the doorknob with her left hand but waved her right hand over the dresser, prepared to grab the lamp. She turned the knob and carefully pried it open...
It was Phoebe.
"Helga." She said, almost solemnly.
"Oh hey Pheebs, you're so short I couldn't see you through the eyehole." Helga jested in relief.
"Yeah...still not growing much nowadays." Phoebe replied, a tone of sadness in her voice as she invited herself into the room.
"What's got your goat girl?" Helga asked as Phoebe slumped in the desk chair across from the bed. Phoebe was quiet for a minute.
"It's just.." She said, finally breaking her silence, "We haven't seemed to talk much since we got here. You seemed preoccupied with Arnold proposing and helping him get over his grandpa...Gerald hasn't exactly been the best company, being there for Arnold more and more often..."
"Well yeah, it's a crazy time we live in, can't go back to the way it was like in 4th grade y'know?" Helga said.
"That's the thing Helga! I think we can!" Phoebe rebuttled, "Just because we're still struggling doesn't mean we can't still be there for one another. I mean we're still best friends right?"
"Of course Pheebs! You still got me." Helga said, smiling.
"Doesn't feel like it so much, I've been through a lot and I really needed you there for a lot of it."
"Hey in case you didn't know, I was dragged away to a secret research lab with four of our other friends...I stalked you guys because I thought you had all gone mad and were treating Charlie like shit...then after that..." The dark in Helga began to shake her up again. Phoebe at first only sat and watched her begin to break down again, then her attention was brought to the lamp which began to flicker...the light switched on and off, filling the room with an omniscient presence. That would've been enough if Phoebe hadn't noticed the lamp beginning to levitate off the desk...
Phoebe stood up as she saw Helga's anger begin to melt into sadness, and realized her selfishness, "I'm sorry..." She said as she reached down to hold Helga in a loving embrace.
That warmed Helga's heart almost instantly, "We've been through some shit haven't we..." Helga said through her sobs.
"We both have indeed," Phoebe replied, her shock from the supernatural event she had just witnessed still stung her in a way that only left her confused, "Get some rest Helga, I love you."
"I love you too sis." Helga replied, "Best friends till the day we die." Phoebe stood up.
"I'm gonna go down to Alpha, be there for Gerald when he gets back, lord knows what they're putting up with out there."
"Eh, he and football head will handle it." Helga said nonchalantly. Phoebe smiled.
"I'll see you tomorrow if I don't get back before you're completely out." She said as she shut the door, entering the cool breeze of the outside once again. She trotted down the stairs and walked up to the soldiers on patrol.
"Excuse me." She said.
"Yes ma'am, what can we do for you." The presumed leader of the group said, standing up from their small round table.
"I was hoping I could get a ride down to Alpha, one of my friends has been through a hard time and I want to go visit her." She said, a little white lie to hopefully sound more convincing.
"I suppose we could," One of the other soldiers said.
"We still have two more hours Corporal," The leader said, a bit irritated at the corporal for speaking out of line.
"Come on Sarge, it's a 10 minute round trip at most." The corporal refuted. The sergeant began to ponder.
"Okay, Hicks, it's your job, get it done." The sergeant said. Corporal Hicks stood up, dropping his cards on the table revealing their contents.
"And I was sitting on a royal flush..." Hicks said, "Come on Miss Heyerdahl." And he hopped into the truck, Phoebe jumped in the passenger seat.
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From afar, Cody and John watched as the truck pulled out onto the road and drove off into the night.
"It's like fate wants us to pull this off." Cody said with a devilish grin and cruel twitch in his eye, "Come on." He said as he crawled from his hiding spot. John was not too far behind.
"Cody, why not go through the front? Tell them we're visiting someone."
Without missing a beat, Cody drove his hand across John's face, leaving a red mark, "Are you really that much of a dumbass? Where's that smart head of yours, leave it back in Vegas or something!?"
"Well those soldiers will know we're here anyway after we take this kid hostage," John said in his submissive state, "Won't they radio to those guys to come get us?"
"Not if we tell them we've got a gun glued right to that little fucker's head now will they?" Cody growled. John had no response, he just followed Cody as they headed around to the fenced in basketball courtyard. The fence towered much higher than the rest of the perimeter as it was already placed there from before the break out. Seeing as that part was already sealed off, FTi security had no reason to block it off more. It was the only part of the fence without barbed wire. Cody and John scaled it at a snail's pace but eventually made it over. Cody made ground first while John slipped about ten feet up, colliding his shoulder with the ground. Cody nearly towered over him prepared to beat him again but kept his cool.
Quickly but quietly, the two made it around to the motel parking lot, just out of ear and eye shot of the soldiers camped out near the west balcony. They headed up the stairs and scanned the doors till they made it to one with the name "Shortman" scrawled on it. They looked left and right, noticing the rest of the motel rooms had their lights turned out, but this room was still glowing brightly. Cody raised his knuckle and tapped the door three times.
A few seconds past and no answer. Cody tried once more, this time knocking louder. The response was almost immediate.
"Who are you?" Helga asked a little snarkily. Cody just looked in shock, she was not the football headed kid they were expecting.
"Is...Arnold home?" was all Cody could choke out.
"I'll ask again...who are you?"
"Oh..forgive me..I'm Chris, this is my son Jimmy, we wanted to speak with Arnold Shortman about something..."
"You can tell me, he's not here."
"He's not huh?" Cody said as he scanned the door frame for any security, the door was wide open, ready to get kicked in...he looked back at Helga, "So I take it you're Arnold's 'squeeze'?..." His devilry leaking through his words which mutated into a snarl.
"...The hell do you punks want?" Helga said, almost immediately regretting saying anything as she saw the gun handle poking out of Cody's jacket pocket.
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Arnold's heart rate sped up about 3x out of nowhere. He clutched his chest and rainbows started to fly through his head. His grunts got the others' attention.
"S'matter Arnold?" Stinky asked.
"I don't know...just got a bad feeling all of a sudden."
"Is it your future vision thing kicking in?" Gerald asked.
"Maybe, not sure."
Gerald reached over and put a hand on Arnold's shoulder, "It's gonna be okay man, we got this. There's like 8 of us versus what's ever out there, and believe me, I'm betting you it's not that much."
"Remember what Goose talked about in the briefing, there's those new jock zombies we got running around now, who knows how many there are of those now." Charlie said. Gerald was quiet as Charlie did have a point there.
"Two miles out boys, ready your weapons, I want a good clean pickup." Said a voice on Gerald's radio, the sergeant from the APC in front of them. The group fell silent, the intensity between them increased tenfold.
"Just keep your eyes open guys, no one's dying tonight." Arnold said. The group remained quiet as they approached their objective, things were getting real now, as it became completely pitch black outside.
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The barrel of the gun was a devil to Helga's eyes. Although the hand that held it was flimsy, it was still a menace to her as she slumped on the bed.
"Phone, now." Cody demanded, standing next to John whom held the gun as they both towered over her in her vulnerable state, all she could do was frown at her captors. Cody snapped, snagging the gun from John's hand and plastered it straight onto Helga's forehead, pressing it in, making her skin red.
"Phone." He said again in his monotone voice.
"We don't have phones here idiot." Helga's gutsiness prevailed even with her current circumstances, "Some of the guys have walkies but they're long gone now..." She said, almost triumphant. Cody backed away, almost feeling distraught until he saw something. A long black antennae sticking out from under the bed. Its plastic shined with the lamplight and he knelt down to take a closer look. He reached in and whipped out Arnold's walkie talkie. Helga shut her eyes out of disappointment for her lazy cover-up techniques.
"Someone's not exactly organized around here are they?" Cody said sarcastically as he handled the black box in his hand. He passed the gun back to John who again held it flimsily by the handle pointing at Helga.
Cody walked the other direction towards the bathroom, looking at the walkie.
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"Something's wrong, you told me they'd be back before sundown." Miles protested, looking out at the desert sky, all in black, no light to be seen, through the window in Goose's office.
"They had a ways to go Miles, they're probably headed back now."
"Fucking Washington..." Miles said under his breath, his malice directed towards Fort McNair and their halfass resupply procedure.
"Two hours, give em two hours and they'll be back." Goose said holding up his fingers. Miles just looked discerning.
"Victor tell you yet?" Goose asked after a few minutes of silence.
"Yeah, I tried talking to Arnold, he won't have any of it..." Miles replied.
"Even if it's all bullshit, it's the closest thing to hope we've got." Goose argued.
"Goose," Miles started, "He won't go back."
"Then we're lost...kid has to wake up." Goose said, "We can't hold up in here forever, morale is low with the troops and supplies are dwindling. Vegas could be a gold mine for all we know and we can't get my men in there without them getting jumped by those goddamn bandits. We're running on fumes since winter hit us hard. We need a plan."
"Don't have to tell me twice." Miles patrolled the floor with his hands on his hips.
As if on queue, Victor strolled into the office, his face was stone cold, expressionless, clearly no purpose as to why he came in. Miles knew, he was clearly eavesdropping.
Just then, Goose's radio started to sputter and beep. He glanced at it for a second, then nothing. Everybody in the room dismissed it until it happened again, this time repeatedly.
"You gonna get that?" Victor said, breaking the silence. Goose reluctantly picked up the radio.
"Go for Goose." He said into the walkie, nothing, "General Marshall Goose, respond."...
"Denison Motel calling Alpha Command, come in Command." Said a sullen voice on the other end, hoarse and low, monotone.
"Copy that Denison Motel, we read you, who is this?" Goose asked. Silence. A few beats later.
"This...is the Alpha Slums biting you in your fat crumbling ass General..." The voice replied, no emotion.
Goose had no rebuttal, "Alpha Slums?" Something that sounded new to him, "Thought this was one of the boys in Denison, who the hell is this?"
Cody rolled his eyes on the other line, "Let's disparage with the names, I know you but you don't need to know me." He stood up, "All I can tell you is this: I wouldn't be calling you if this place was equal, nooo sir. But seeing it as it is...I have had it with your bullshit Goose. Just because you've made some friends when you started opening up your gates, you start giving them the pampering-royalty-chocolate-on-the-pillow crap that you choose not to give to everyone else. Look out your window to the south, right now." He ordered.
Goose stood up, and walked over to the window. The compound was dimly lit, the base's power struggled to keep the area bright. Across the way, he could spot the hangar where the refugees were being sheltered, "Looking outside yet?!" Cody said, louder and more assertive.
"I am, I am." Goose replied, panicky, almost as much as Victor and Miles who listened in.
"Good, see that hangar? You have 100 people in there, you serve the bare minimum to all of them with this ticket system, thinking you can ration your supplies by giving less to them. That's not a shelter Goose, that is a fucking dog pound..." Silence, "Now like I said, I wouldn't be calling you if this wasn't an issue, but you've left me no choice, same with dozens of others with starving children and families and they are being treated like shit. So I decided...if I can't bring you to the dog pound to see what's on the up and up, I'll bring the dog pound to you...You know where I am right?"
"That I do..." Goose sighed. Miles just stood there, he glanced at Victor who locked eyes with him, both frozen stiff in their panic.
"Good, I paid your 'motel' guests a little visit, in particular a room with the name 'Shortman' scrawled on it." Miles gasped in fright.
"Unfortunately that football headed bastard was nowhere to be found but I found the next best thing. Pretty little blonde chick with a plump belly and a very gorgeous looking ring on her finger, looks like a family heirloom, goes by the name uh..."
Cody clicked off the radio and put it to Helga's mouth while pressing the gun to her head with the other, "What's your name miss?"
"This is...Hel-Helga Shortman." He pulled the radio away.
"If I'm not mistaken, that is Colonel Shortman's daughter in law right?" Silence, the evil seeping through the speaker filled everyone who was listening in with more manic and dread.
"A little leverage never hurt to get a decent ransom out of this," Cody said condescending, "Now let me clue you in on what I want. I know you pamper your buddies with better shit than what you're giving those people in that hangar, and that is going to stop. From now on, everybody you have kept here in the motel is going to go back to the hangar where they get to feel the cold hard concrete floor against their back as they sleep every night and sipping puke out of a tin can 3 times a day for food. I want a room in this here motel for me, my son and my wife where we can get the luxury you loved to give so dearly to your little 'family'. And simply put, if you don't deliver, Miss Shortman here gets several in the head and a date with the infected to feast on her corpse for days to come..."
A deep dark hum mowed in Miles' head, the pure silence in the room filled him with both anger and fright as things turned south.
"Listen...whoever you are, I-I'm sure we c-can work this out," Goose continued to stutter, "We have plenty of room for expansion, Denison's metro is barely tapped, we'd be fine trying to relocate all the refugees including you and your family to a more comfortable-" BANG! echoed through the radio speaker...
Miles' heart sunk into his shoes, Goose's fingers squeezed the radio while his lips quivered and sweat began to pour down his forehead...
"The next one won't be aiming for the dresser General...I mean it." Said Cody's low monotone voice again, "You have until sunrise, radio each and every person in this motel to clear out and go back to your base. My wife's name is Sarah Redfield, get one of your men to escort her up here. And don't even try telling those boys of yours right outside this room to move in on us because this gun will be aiming at Helga's pretty head until I see my wife come through this door and the rest of the rooms emptied. Do you copy...?"
Goose looked at Miles as he sat down at his desk, he clicked his radio, "I copy. We'll get on it..." The silence stayed this time.
"I guess now's not a good time to talk about San Lorenzo..." Victor muttered, Goose and Miles both just turned to glare at him. Now was not the time for humor.
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Helga's racing heartbeat took its sweet time to slow down from the gunshot. She could smell the burning powder as she stared at the dresser, a clean hole embedded in the bottom-most drawer.
"Cody what the hell are you thinkin? We are going against a full army here, are you seriously thinking this will work?!" John stated frantically, "They probably have a full platoon on their way here now to put us both in the dirt."
"No they don't." Cody said, complacent, "I've seen Goose around this guy's father, they're simpatico like no other. If he cares so much about this dude and his family or everybody he "cares about", he'll do as I say. He brought this on himself anyhow..."
"And you're trumping him by putting a gun to this chick's head?!" John refuted, Cody struck him once more, John nearly stumbled to the floor. He looked back at Cody in terror.
"This isn't Vegas Cody...you need to wake up! General Goose isn't even close to Malcolm!"
"I told you not to say his name!" Cody shrieked.
Helga's fear levels began to spike again. Suddenly she saw the light flicker again, Cody and John seemed to pay no attention to it. Helga's chest tightened as she looked around the room, for a means to get out of this...she noticed a flashlight, sitting on top of the dresser that Cody had shot.
Then she felt a rumbling, it was faint but she could hear it, again it didn't seem to bother Cody and John in their little argument, then the surprise came to her again when the flashlight started to move...
"Either you're with me or against me John..." Cody said, slowly breaking the illusion, and snapping Helga out of her daze. She looked at them then back at the flashlight, which had shifted a couple inches towards her, she wasn't tripping, it was real.
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"We have to go over there, break in through the roof or something!" Miles exclaimed.
"Did you not hear them? If we do or say anything, they're gonna kill her." Goose protested. Miles took a second, recollecting the situation that a random survivor had a gun to his daughter in law's head.
"We'll just sit tight, if Arnold's friends are still there, radio them in and get them here quick. In the mean time I gotta contact all my troops, God knows how many of them were listening in, that was broadcasted to the whole damn base." Goose said, Miles continued to stay silent, "Miles! Now." He said, grabbing Miles' attention. Miles turned and pulled his own radio from his belt.
"Alpha Base calling Denison Motel, come in Denison..." Miles said, clicking the radio off, "Alpha Base calling Denison Motel, Eugene, Sid, anybody read?" More silence.
"Yeah this is Sid, what's up Colonel?" said a voice on the other line.
"Sid, you need to evacuate the motel, gather everybody in the courtyard and have the soldiers on patrol escort you all back to base, immediately."
"What's going on Miles?" Sid asked, the worry was subtle but indicating in his voice. Miles paused, wondering how he was going to explain this...
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The supply drop was further off than they anticipated, by the time they located it, a couple miles away from the main road, it was pitch black all around. The 801st piled out of the APC, flares were tossed in all directions. Even with their fiery red blaze, Arnold's group barely felt safe as they themselves climbed out of the truck. The containers were intact for the most part. Two of the food pallets had broken their seal and metallic canisters were sprawled out on the desert sand. Everybody clicked on their shoulder flashlights and surrounded the pile of supplies.
"Nothing too bad we can't handle." Sergeant Farrell said optimistically, "Alright boys, let's get the truck loaded up. Squad I want you all watching 6 different angles, ten feet apart, watch your spacing. Let's get this done." And everybody went to work. Arnold, Gerald, Charlie, Stinky and Harold created an assembly line, passing each item to the next person until it got in Harold's hands whom tossed it all into the truck. The bigger containers required two people lifting them up.
Gerald and Arnold loaded the last of the heavy boxes into the truck and rested against it for a minute.
"Arnold..." Gerald muttered, "I want to, apologize..."
"For what Gerald?" Arnold asked curiously.
"I miss my brother y'know? Not a day goes by that I don't think about him or the rest of my family. Knowing I won't see them again..." Gerald explained.
Arnold just listened, minimally confused.
"When I pulled a gun on you after the plane crash...I don't know what I became. Just looking at that pile, couldn't take my eyes off it. Just thinking of it as the last true image of my family I'd remember. I just snapped."
"Gerald..." Arnold said, approaching him closer, "You got nothing to be sorry for, we've had over seven months of healing and I think we're doing alright!"
"Always the voice of reason Arnold, as usual." Arnold just shrugged, his signature grin formed on his face, "I've said it a hundred times and I'll say it a hundred times more, you're a bold-"
A flying box interrupted them as Harold tossed the last of the supply drop into the truck past them, "What's with the meal break guys? We got a job to do!" Harold said as he walked around to the driver's cab. Arnold and Gerald shared one last glance.
"You know it Harold, let's go home." Arnold said with a smile. Images of cuddling Helga and holding her as they slept comfortably in their motel room gave him a shrill of confidence and happiness, amazed at how things turned out out there.
Meanwhile, the soldiers began loading into the APC.
"Wait, Private Daniels, and Corporate Welker" Farrell said to two soldiers, "Check the area about twenty feet out, if Goose catches something off in inventory he'll have our asses for dinner..." The soldiers both grunted and turned. They clicked the flashlights on their rifles on once more as they moved out into the desert, scanning the area for anything they might've left behind.
"See anything?" Daniels asked.
"Nothing...I'ma take a piss real quick." Welker said.
"We're on a schedule dude, hold it till we get back to base will ya?" Daniels protested.
"Shut up private, get your ass back to the vehicles, I'll be there in a minute." Welker responded. Daniels just scoffed and began to walk towards the dimly lit parameter lights on the APC.
Welker was overwhelmed with sweet relief, three gallons of orange juice finally rid from his system. Welker zipped up his pants and grabbed his rifle, swinging it around. The flashlight caught nothing but more desert until it stopped on a large grey mass. Before Welker knew it, a sharp pain shot through his shoulder as what felt like teeth and razor claws gripped him and pulled him further into the desert.
Welker's screams caught the attention of everyone at the vehicles who looked out towards the sound's direction. They could see nothing but what appeared to be the small light on Welker's rifle flailing around until it finally shut off.
"Corporal!" Farrell screamed from the side of the APC.
The next few minutes stretched out to several hours as everybody heard thuds on top of both vehicles. They looked up and shined their lights on two grotesque creatures, their eyes glowed an eerily green, similar to that of infected humans but much brighter. Their structure was humanoid but hardly comparable to regular people. Although they appeared to have been human at one point. Their skin shined in a glimmery pus that was smeared all over their skin which looked like a hardened grey matter similar to a rhinocerous.
Everybody was hardly paying attention to Welker's dying screams that they nearly missed both creatures leaping from the trucks, emitting a shearing screech as their skin appeared to emit smoke from the rifle flashlights pointing at them.
"JOCKS!" Farrell screamed as he opened fire carelessly. Everybody else followed suit, shouldering their rifles and firing at the creatures as they leapt around the vehicles. Their bullets appeared to do no damage as the jocks weren't bleeding. Their skin appeared to absorb the bullets.
"Sergeant! We have to leave!" Arnold hollered as he fired at a jock which was about to charge at him, jerking left and right to avoid the flashlight rays. The jock was not close enough to swing at Arnold with a killing blow but still launched him against the truck. The collision caused Arnold to shiver in pain as he landed on the sand. He felt a hand gripping his arm pulling him to his feet again.
"They can't be killed Arnold we gotta go!" Stinky yelled as he helped Arnold to the back of the truck. Gerald and the rest followed behind. The jock's inhumane screeches echoed into the night.
"Shine your lights on them, they're sensitive to it!" Gerald yelled as they all shuffled to the truck. Gerald's rifle clicked empty. He cursed as he dropped it and whipped out his Berettas, unleashing 9 millimeter chaos on the jocks which both seemed to go for the truck instead of the APC. Farrell and his group were hopping in it preparing to leave themselves. One jock began slamming against the truck, nearly tipping it over while the other advanced on Arnold's group as they piled into the truck. Stinky was the last one still not in the truck, holding it off with his shotgun, seemingly doing more damage than the others did with their rifles.
"Stinky!" Arnold screamed. Stinky had struck the jock in its head which seemed to kill it as it fell to the floor but continued to move. Thinking the coast was clear, Stinky began climbing into the truck-when suddenly a large grey arm swung around and gripped him by the shoulder, whipping him away from the truck back into the sandy desert, disappearing into blackness.
"NOOOO!" Arnold said as he and the others hopped out to go after him. Gerald picked up Stinky's shotgun which fell a few feet away from the truck. Farrell heard the commotion and his squad began to move the APC towards where Arnold and the others were going.
Arnold caught eye of Stinky's struggle with the jock as he swung his rifle around, hoping to catch something with the flashlight. Stinky was not in eyesight but Arnold could see the jock swinging back and forth, with Stinky's body flailing around like a ragdoll in its mouth. Arnold emptied the rest of his rifle into the jock's back while Gerald unloaded into it with the shotgun.
The jock, seemingly irritated by the gunfire turned around, its jaws and fangs caked with fresh blood on them. Gerald, out of nowhere, dropped everything he had, and in his anger charged the jock with his bare hands. He gripped it by its neck and squeezed. The jock tried to get a scratch on him but a new pain started burning in its head. Gerald's hands began to glow red again, and this time they began to emit flame. It wasn't long before the fire in Gerald's hands began to burn through the jock's skin, all the way down to bone which Gerald easily snapped off, decapitating the jock with one good twist, and spilling its blackish oozy blood onto the sand. Gerald tossed the head aside and went over to Arnold and the others who were attending to Stinky and his shoulder which was missing skin and muscle. Gerald held back his nausea when he saw the jock had torn right into Stinky's collar bone, indicated by a small white strip jutting out from the surrounding pink-red mass.
"No" was all Arnold could say, over and over again as he cradled Stinky in his arms, blood pouring onto his pants and shirt. "No no nononono Stinky no, you-you're gonna be okay." The tears came instantly. Stinky coughed up more blood as he went into shock. Farrell and his team came out from the APC to surround them.
"Y-you gotta do it Arnold, fast, p-pllease." Stinky said, slobbering and choking on his own inner fluids, a fountain of red began to spew from his lips. Stinky reached for Arnold's revolver, still pocketed in his holster. Arnold batting his hand away.
"No no you saw what happened with Charlie, we can bring you back!" Arnold said through his sobs, his voice becoming less like his own through the crying.
"Pl-ase keep goin-this a good thi-ng we got goin here don't ever stop" Stinky muttered, his breaths getting shorter and shorter, his head began to twitch, the infection was setting in...
"Arnold you gotta do it." Gerald said.
"Son your friend is gone already, will you do it or should I?" Farrell said behind him, realistic but compassionate.
"N-no I can't." Arnold said looking between the soldier and his dying friend. Without missing a beat, Stinky gripped Arnold by his jacket, smearing more blood and muscle matter on it.
"10 SECONDS! 10 SECONDS!" Stinky screamed as he let go, writhing on the floor, his words not sounding like his regular dialect. The twitching grew more consistent. Arnold unclipped his holster and drew his revolver out as tears streamed from his eyes onto his shirt, mixing in with the blood and chunks of flesh. More screeching could be heard in the distance. Gerald and everyone else whipped their heads around, hearing but not seeing the infected population closing in on them. "10 SECONDS!" Stinky continued to scream in an almost non-human screech, his eyes fading in a sharp green color as the infection completely took him over...
Bang!
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To Be Continued
