"I don't know what you're talking about," Bryant replied swiftly, the honest look of confusion on his face masking his momentary panic that his allegiance with the woman in question had been discovered.
"I'm talking about this report I found on my desk this morning from the communications staff. It clearly reports that one of our groups in Guatemala has not only seen Burke's aircraft, but engaged in a firefight with them a few days back while they stopped to refuel," Scarecrow told him, thrusting the report into the Captain's hands.
Bryant scanned over the brief report, looking for anything that would incriminate him. At last he said, "Okay, so they traded fire with a group of three helicopters, but I don't see anything that confirms the identity of the air crews. There's nothing here about the identification numbers of the aircraft or anything substantial that would indicate it was in fact Briggs' or Burke's or whatever the hell she's been calling herself group that they faced off against."
"No," agreed Scarecrow. "But it does say that they appeared to have been painted, that the identifying marks seemed to have been purposely covered up. Why else would that have been done unless it was Burke trying to cover her tracks?"
"But how can we be so sure of that? It could be anyone with the skills to fly, survivors who managed to steal some helicopters. They'd obviously want to cover up the markings so they wouldn't get caught," Bryant said cautiously, trying to provide some facts thatcould plausibly provide reasonable doubt over the identity of the group that he was sure in his mind truly was Briggs'.
"Read the report again, Captain. I have eye witness confirmation that there were three helicopters spotted, an AH-6, a Blackhawk, and a CH-53, the exact same aircraft that our prey have been traveling in. And I believe Burke would have much more reason to obscure the markings than any would be thieves you dream up. It's her, I'm sure of it," Scarecrow declared.
"Yes, well, when you put it that way it does make a bit of sense," admitted Bryant weakly. "Shall I put together a pursuit team? Recall our other patrols and put them to use elsewhere?"
"Yes, make it happen."
"And bring Burke in alive?" asked the Captain caustiously.
"No. Take her out, use extreme prejudice. Her traveling companions too, we don't know how much information she's shared with them and I'm not willing to take any unnecessary chances," Scarecrow replied.
"I'll get to work on it immediately, take charge of the pursuit team myself," Bryant replied, moving towards the door and hurriedly escaping from the room.
"Yes, I'm sure you will," muttered Scarecrow as he watched the officer retreat from the room. This mission would go a long way to prove whether or not the Captain could be trusted, something that had become very much in doubt of late.
Bryant rushed down the hallway towards the operations room, his mind racing, trying to come up with a solution to their latest dilemma. It would be impossible to warn Briggs in time, he'd have to be airborne long before their next scheduled communication if he wanted to keep Scarecrow's suspicions from rising any more. Mentally, he began to put together his assault team, troops who were either already loyal to Briggs, or else those that could be easily be persuaded to join her cause.
As Bryant worked to save Briggs from Scarecrow's wrath, she was busy putting her own ass on the line once more. The Blackhawk hovered over the dock of the boat rental place, two lines dropping from either side, where, two by two, the four man team made a swift descent. Touching down, Briggs moved towards the nearest boat that suited their needs and leapt aboard. Cowboyjoined her, inspecting the engine,whileJones and Cook remained alongside on the dock, rifles at the ready as more and more of the zombies gathered outside the fence.
"I don't suppose that someone was nice enough to leave the keys in the ignition for us," Cowboy commented over the noise of the helicopter as he moved at last to stand beside his sister. The Blackhawk lifted slightly and moved away, hovering a short distance from the dock.
"It could happen," Briggs replied, bending down beneath the dashboard. "But then how would I get my practice hot-wiring boats?"
Cowboy shook his head, looking out past the boat stern towards where the rental building sat just inside of the gate. "Keys are probably up there," he said off-handedly.
Briggs grunted, "Not worth the effort to go look for them. Especially if that gate doesn't hold.
"It does look a bit weak," commented Cowboy, watching as the creatures moved against the fence in earnest, their snarls rising to a frenzied pitch. "Jones, get the mooring lines, let's at least get this beast moved away from the dock a bit," he called out.
Jones moved to do his bidding while Cook continued watching the fence. Moments later, the boat was freed from the moorings, and Jones hopped on board. "Whatever you're doing down there Briggs I think you should hurry," he said. "That fence is starting to give."
"They're tearing it to pieces," Cook agreed, coming aboard as well. The two soldiers leaned over the side to push out and away from the dock, hoping the boat would drift away from the dock enough to keep them safe should the zombies break through before Briggs got the machine started. The current wasn't willing to work with them though, within moments the boat banged up against the side of the dock again, scraping its side as it slowly edged closer to shore. They pushed off once again, bumping into another boat as they did, still edging in the wrong direction.
"Uh, Briggs," Jones called, watching as the shore seemed to be moving closer to them. "I really meant it when I said you should hurry."
"What's your problem Jones," grumbled Briggs. A loud crash and a furious roar from the zombie horde as theyfinally broke through the fence causing her to sit up swiftly and bash her head on the underside of the dashboard. She refocused her concentration to the task at hand, swearing loudly as she did.
"I'd say it's more like our problem," replied the soldier, watching as the creatures swarmed onto the dock. "Does this bitch have paddles or something," he asked desperately as they began to near.
"What? Damn!" Briggs said as she once again smacked her head. Finally looking away from her work, she caught sight of the zombies on the docks. "I see what you mean," she said, ducking down once more.
Jones and Cook raised their rifles, firing at the first group of zombies that staggered their way. A few of them dropped, but they barely did anything to stop the slow, almost drunk gait of the rest of the pack as they moved down the dock. They fired again just as the engine roared to life. Popping out from beneath the dash, Briggs swiftly maneuvered the boat away from the other moored vessels, directing the craft into the wide open waters of the harbor. Taking one last look back towards the dock, Jones saw some of the creatures stepping right off the end and dropping into the water as if to follow them still.
"Holy Shit! They're coming after us, they're jumping right in the water!" he shouted in a panicked voice over the noise of the engine. Everyone but Briggs turned to look back at the dock, watching as three more zombies entered the water.
"I've never seen them go into water like that," exclaimed Cook. "They told us all along that they wouldn'tgo in the water." The shock on his face mirrored that of Jones.' Absurdly, Cowboy could only think of the guy from the movie Jaws, always walking around saying 'Don't go in the water.'
I wouldn't worry too much about them," Briggs hollered at them, the roar of the engine and the wake the boat kicked up as it sped along, nearly drowning out her voice as she opened up the throttle all the way.
"Oh yea, why the hell not?" asked Cook, still peering back at the rapidly disappearing dock.
"Even if by some miracle they walked across the bottom and made it out of the harbor, they wouldn't stand a chance against the ocean's current," Briggs told them. "Besides, no point in worrying about that when we've got other things to think about."
"What do you mean 'other things'? It's a little late to be springing stuff like that on us," complained Jones.
"Okay. I won't then," Briggs said, still focusing on their path out into the open sea.
"Won't what?"
"Tell you that this boat wasn't really designed for traveling out on the ocean," she said. "It's more of a cruise around the harbor, throw back a few beers and try to pick up some drunken little co-ed kind of machine."
"You mean we're gonna die in this fucking little boat before we ever even make it to the island?" Cook asked beginning to look a little nauseous.
"Nah, think of it more along the lines of Cuban or Haitian illegals trying to make it to Florida. Some of their boats have actually succeeded you know, from time to time that is," Briggs replied matter-of-factly.
"Jesus, Mary and Joseph," mumbled Jones, making the sign of the cross.
"Relax," Cowboy said from his seat behind Briggs. He was busy loading a pistol. "We've only got about 5 miles to cover from the harbor to the island, barring any freak accidents or hurricanes we shouldn't have any problems. She's just messing with ya'll. No need to get religion now Jones."
"Spoilsport," Briggs called over her shoulder. The two soldiers visibly relaxed at Cowboy's words.
"Briggs, you can be a real bitch sometimes," Cook told her, looking ahead at a speck on the horizon that slowly began to take shape as their island destination as he inwardly fought the nausea that still plagued him.
"Seriously Briggs, he's right. That was wrong on so many different levels," admonished Jones.
They were all silent for a moment, each of them watching as the island became more visible, the beach and the outline of the buildings becoming clearer. At last Briggs spoke.
"It may have been a shitty thing to do, saying what I did and all, even if it was true to a degree, but ya'll have to admit that it did keep you from freaking out about what lies ahead of us."
Jones looked at her in amazement while the other two men let out a burst of surprised laughter. "Would you mind telling me why you decided that now would be a good time to remind us about that?" he asked.
Briggs hesitated for a moment before saying, "Would you believe me if I said it was because confession is good for the soul?"
"Not a chance in hell lady, it's a bit late for you to suddenly be finding religion too. Try again."
"Okay, we'll go with the truth then. What was the last thing you saw before we left the marina?" she asked.
"Those things. Walking off the dock. Why?"
"The plan for us to draw those creatures away from the buildings."
"So."
"You like to fish Jones?" she suddenly asked.
"Yea, used to spend my summers as a kid fishing with my Grandpa almost every day. What's that got to do with this?"
"Think of this in terms of a fishing trip. The zombies are the fish and we're the bait."
"I get that, what does it have to do with the marina..." he trailed off, a look of understanding coming across his face. If things went as planned and the undeads left the building to come after them, the water wouldn't offer any protection. They would have to bring the boat in close enough to gain their attention, and the likelihood of the water remaining deep enough to eliminate them as a threat was minimal at best. They would be sitting ducks if the boat stalled out. "Jesus, Mary and Joseph," he said again. If something went wrong with the boat or the Little Bird they were fucked.
"Amen, Jonesy, Amen," Briggs said. "When we get to the island, I'm going to buzz the shore as close as I can for a quick pass, try to get their attention. If that works, we'll move back out aways and pray that Henry takes out as many as he can with Eve. Once they make their pass, we'll move back towards the shore, I want you three to keep picking them off as best as you can. After that we're going to have to rely on our moving fast along the shore, and our boys on the rooftop. Any questions?"
"Yea, you really expect us to be able to make head shots from a moving boat?" Cook asked skeptically.
"Cavalries used to do it from horseback so why the hell not?" Cowboy said.
"You're both nuts," muttered Cook.
"Yea, I hear that a lot," Briggs said. "Now get your asses ready, we're almost to the island."
Overhead, the Blackhawk moved towards the main building, while the AH-6 banked right, heading parallel to the length of the beach. Briggs slowed the boat, arcing slightly to the right as well, but then making a sharp U-turn to head opposite of the Little Bird. She moved as close to the shore as she dared, she kicked up the speed a little bit, but so far the creatures were ignoring them. The Blackhawk deposited the rooftop team, then looped around to hover out over the water once again.
"Shit, they're ignoring us Briggsy," yelled Cowboy.
"Nah, we just don't have their attention yet." She looped around once more, bringing the boat back towards the shore, directly in front of the main building, slowing the boat down to a near stop.
"Briggs, what the fuck are you doing? You know what could happen to us if this thing stalls out," Cook panicked.
"Hey you dumb fucks!" she suddenly screamed out. "Come and get us. Dinner's served!"
A few of the zombies closest to them began to look their way.
"I'll be damned,this may actually work after all," Jones said. He started hollering at the dead too. "Yo! Motherfuckers, let's see you try to get a piece of this," he yelled, firing his rifle into the air.
Slowly, some of the creatures began moving towards them, snarling. From the rooftop, the three man team began to open fire, dropping a pair of the creatures as they staggered towards the beach. It was obvious then that the angle of the roof would make it difficult for them to hit anything that wasn't halfway down the beach, everything directly below was a blindspot.The three passengers aboard the boat began opening fire as well as Briggs kept them moving at a slow crawl through the water.
"Come on you bastards, keep coming for us," muttered Briggs under her breath as she glanced out towards the creatures on the shore. About ten of the creatures were staggering across the beach at various intervals, moving slowly towards the boat, when the Little Bird came through on it's first strafing run, it's guns chewing three of the creatures to pieces. The helicopter turned for a second pass, cutting down another four.
"That should benearly half of them," called Briggs. "Cowboy, get on the radio to the Blackhawk, tell them to drop the last team on the beach, we're going in." She directed the boat headlong for the shore, plowing it right up onto the sand where it lurched to a rough stop, knocking Jones to his knees.
"Everybody move!" hollered Cowboy, leaping over the boat's side and opening fire on the oncoming zombies. Gunfire cracked from all around as the team from the Blackhawk joined the melee. CJ's sniper team atop the roof also continued firing while the ground troops tried to advance towards the buildings.
"Briggs I thought you said there were only twenty of these fucks!" hollered Walker and the two groups merged together.
"I said twenty give or take," grunted Briggs as she just barely avoided being bit on the leg my what remained of a zombie. It had been cut in half by the AH-6, but was still dragging it's torso, its innards trailing after it, in an effort to get to living human flesh. She stomped her foot down on the back of the things neck, feeling it snap beneath her foot before she added a bullet to its head for good measure.
"I'd say give," panted Terry, firing a round that caught another zombie in the chest, staggering it backwards and allowing Peter to fire a shot between it's eyes.
"We're doing good, just stay alert and keep shooting," called Cowboy. He and Briggs moved together like a single unit, back to back, constantly moving. Suddenly a scream pierced the air, rising above the snarling din of the zombies.
"Sonuvabitch they got Cook!" yelled Jones, momentarily stunned as he watched two of the creatures appear out of nowhere to bring the burly soldier down. In a split second one had torn his throat out while the other gouged open his stomach, pulling his entrails out and feasting upon them. Jones raised his rifle and opened fire, killing both the zombies.
"Put a round in Cook's head," commanded Briggs, firing towards the last half dozen zombies left. They were rushing towards the scent of fresh blood.
"Are you crazy! He's one of our people!" Jones cried out in horror as he looked at what was left of his friend.
"He's been bit Jones, it's only a matter of time before he comes back," Briggs yelled. No sooner had she finished her statement than the soldiers reanimated corpse sat up snarling.
"I'm sorry man," whispered Jones, squeezing the trigger. Almost as soon as he'd risen, Cook's body dropped back into the sand, at peace once more.
Silence suddenly filled the air.
"We did it," Terry said, almost in awe. "We actually pulled it off."
"We're not in the clear yet," Cowboy said. "We still need to clear the buildings, make sure there aren't any more of them lurking around."
"Steele, this is Briggs, do you copy?"
"Affirmative Briggs."
"Have your team clear the building, make sure none of those things are inside, then work on tearing down those barricades."
"Affirmative."
"Jones, Walker, Michael, and Kenneth," Briggs called out. "I want you to stick together, clear all the huts to the right of the main building, when you've secured those, loop around and meet us out back at the helipads. The rest of you come with me, we'll do the same on the left. Once we've ascertained the perimeter is secure we'll land the Birds and radio for the others to join us. Understood?"
When nobody replied, Briggs signaled for the groups to move out, and just like that, they were one step closer to making their island paradise a reality.