Chapter four

Ben Johnson itched the underside of his chin. The intense sunlight beat across the exposed portion of his neck as it inscribed in and out of the rainy clouds. He shifted uneasily within his uniform, trying to rid himself of his itchy feeling. Captain Miller addressed his squad before they set out. First, after they got a head count, Miller radioed in their successful drop. Umbrella had then issued orders to Captain Miller to meet up with A National Guard unit inside the city. Now supposedly they had a vaccination station up and running and they were taking in several survivors at once. They reported that they needed assistance due to their vaccine supplies running low. They were told to sit tight as Miller's unit was heading their way.

Now they're here; walking slowly out from the woods onto a deserted highway road that met at a three-way intersection. The road that was adjacent the highway led into the city, on an overpass.

Captain Jack Miller crouched next to an abandoned vehicle, taking a long cylinder-like metallic tube out from his side-pack.

"Suppressors equip." said Miller silently into his comm-link.

Everyone else, including Johnson, down the single file line rustled through their equipment, taking out identical pieces of accessory and screwing them onto the nozzles of their weapons. That is, except Connors, who withdrew his SPAS-12 and brought out his 9mm, suppressor and all.

Captain Miller remained in his crouching position, walking in between the lines of abandoned vehicles. Everyone followed closely behind. The overpass extended out at least half a mile heading into the city, over the highway and buildings that were below. Johnson stuck his head out over the guard rail and scanned the highway beneath them; same scene. Congested highway littered with paper, trash, and abandoned vehicles. More than three dozen or so bodies sprawled all over the road. Distinctive groaning could be heard from below, and Johnson smelled it before he saw it; zombies. Several of them wandering without a given purpose. He contorted his face before bringing his head back over the rail.

"Jesus Christ…"

Johnson spotted Miller's fist pump into the air once, and they reflexively knew to stop, as they did. Miller spoke into his comm-link.

"I need men watching the rear. Make sure those bastards don't sneak up on us."

Miller came to rest behind a minivan, peering out towards the town down the road. Corporal Johnson heard him speak before his voice came over the comm-link.

"I have tango's insight. At least fifteen of them. Bravo two through twelve, come up here."

Johnson and eleven other soldiers quietly crept over towards Miller's position, surrounding the minivan and taking cover behind other vehicles, weapons trained ahead.

"Take aim and fire. Make every shot count. Aim for the cranium."

Johnson took aim at a scantily clad older woman with his M4A3 and squeezed off a shot, hitting one of the undead in the shoulder. The loud click! of the rifle wasn't loud enough for the creatures to hear them, so the stupefied zombie had no source to be attracted to. The thing just took the shot and looked around with colorless eyes, desperately trying to find what had disturbed it from its useless slumber. The next 5.56mm bullet found its target, a crimson hole blooming across the creature's forehead.

Johnson looked ahead and noticed that all twelve of the soldiers found their targets and downed them without hesitation, and the pathway seemed to be cleared of any threat.

Miller moved his hand forward, and the rest of the squad, approximately 16 men, came running up to regroup.

"Sir, I have a large number of hostilities at our six! We need to get moving because somehow they've caught our scent!" spoke one of the soldiers out of the group. He had a sniper rifle equipped and his battle-hardened face showed no signs of comfort.

"Damn." Replied Captain Miller with a worried look. "Okay, then let's get it movin' faster."

Miller continued his walk forward, a bit faster this time. He was flanked by Johnson to the left, then the rest of the unit quickly followed behind.

They approached the entrance into the city, with the congested traffic growing thicker. Utter chaos was present in every angle of the street. Miller approached a four-way, stopping to take cover behind an overturned Volkswagen. He aimed his weapon out in front of him and paused.

"Sir?" Johnson said in a hushed whisper.

Miller pointed out onto the street, and Johnson's eyes followed his finger.

"Oh… crap…"

30 meters away more of the creatures sounded off with their incessant moaning, as if carrying on a conversation in a language not comprehensible to the human ear. There were at least forty of them, not counting the ones that were further off into the city.

"Sir, we've got to get going! Those things somehow know we're here!" a voice erupted over the communications-link. It was one of the snipers in the rear.

The unmistakable clicking sound of the suppressors could be heard, followed by a shrill voice screaming into the pre-noon sky.

"AAAHHH! GET IT OFF ME, GET IT OFF!"

Someone yelled from the rear, and a shotgun rang out into the air, shattering the silence that they'd hope to maintain.

"Sir, they're more than we thought back here. We've got to get it going NOW!"

"Okay, let's move!" Miller said, standing up from his prone position.

By now the undead party of zombies ahead had gotten wind of their position and they were charging their unit like a frenzied person high on some mind-altering substance. Johnson stood up just as the Captain went forth and began to run across the intersection. Several more men did the same, weapons aimed at the nearest threat. They began to sound off with their weapons, which by now had rendered the suppressors useless at this point. Cordite filled the air with a sickingly sweet smell of rotted flesh. Miller tried to lead the pack, but was cut off due to the mass number of infected citizens. They streamed from every imaginable nook and cranny of the street. From under cars, out from under the subway entrances. Several more undead joined the fray by running out from inside the buildings.

Surrounded in every direction, Miller pointed towards an empty alley-way.

"There!" he screamed above the gunfire.

"Help me! Help—BOOM!"

One man ran for the alley-way as Johnson turned to motion the rest of the unit in their direction. The guy was clothes lined almost instantly, as a result of a zombie lurching out from the shadows of a dumpster.

"ACK! HELP!" screamed the soldier.

Johnson raised his rifle, but to no avail. The soldier was swarmed by the undead, being eaten alive with every passing second. Johnson turned on his heels and ran, not wanting to see anymore of this tragic event. He spotted Miller helping some of his men up onto a balcony, his arm extended out to help them off the ladder.

"Corporal, hurry your ass up! They're right behind you!" screamed Connors from the balcony.

This only made Johnson run faster, feeling as if he was almost weightless. He reached the leader and leaped as high as he could, grabbing the bottom rungs and pulling himself up with an adrenaline-fed fury. A bloated hand scuffed the bottom of his boot and Johnson quick free. Next thing he new he was being pulled up by the Captain, who led them into a fifth-story apartment. Johnson stood there, hands clasped to his knees, sucking in gulps of air as the adrenaline began to fade.

BOOM!

Connors came into view of the living room, where he surviving unit stood. Grimacing, he spoke; "there was an old lady in the bathroom. Looks like she just joined our friends outside a little under an hour ago. Had to do away with her."

The Captain nodded slowly, obviously in deep thought. Ben Johnson looked at what faces remained. A sniper, Bill Giles, the shotgun artist Joey Connors, and a few unrecognizable faces were also in the crowd, all of whom Johnson didn't know very well. Pvt. 1st class Brandon Cooper walked out from the kitchen back into the living room. Most of everyone at training called him 'Coop', and Johnson had only talked to him a few times.

In all only seven people remained out of the thirty soldiers that were dropped in. Jackson and Hughes was still MIA, unfortunately, and whoever else might've survived outside on the streets would have a tough time on their own. Johnson stared out the window, trying to evaluate their situation.

A moving vehicle suddenly gleamed through the window, its silver paint creating an easily seen distraction amongst the lifeless, still city streets.

"Hey, there's someone done there!" yelled Johnson in exasperation.

Everyone in the room crowded the window trying to catch a look at what alerted one of the soldiers. The silver GMC slammed into several undead LA residents, clearing a temporary path in the somewhat congested intersection. The truck slowed at the entrance of the alley which was on the other end, the area they hadn't gone through. The vehicle continued its rampage as it toppled over a mailbox and onto the sidewalk, doing damage to a shopping cart and running over a few corpses.

"Well, Good luck to them. They'll need it more than us at the moment." Said Miller as he walked back into the room away from the window. He got on the radio, and began to radio in…