Chapter 5
Go Loud
The bearded SAS operative took point, followed by the elder Terasov. They swept through the main streets of the city, moving quickly and efficiently.
As Price checked a side alley, he heard a scratching, clanking noise, like something being scraped against metal.
"Sergei. You hear that?" Price whispered hoarsely.
The Russian nodded.
"Loud and clear. I will see what it is; let me take point." Sergei murmured in response.
The mustached Russian moved ahead, looking around the corner of the grimy, foggy alleyway.
"Shit...come look at this, Price..." Sergei said, signaling to Price to move closer.
The SAS captain moved ahead cautiously, leaning around the corner with his combat rifle aimed.
A humanoid monster was standing in the dimly-lit alleyway. It had a spindly bipedal body and some human features, like arms and legs. However, its skin was transparent and slightly brown and showed the muscle structure, and it had incredibly long, sharp, black claws in lieu of fingers. The flesh seemed to be almost rotting; it stank of decay, and had a wet sheen to it. The monster's gut appeared to be cut open; it had what appeared to be a small proboscis there, where the stomach was normally located. Its facial features were distorted into a bloody grimace of pain and anger, sharpened by its beady black eyes. It had pinned a Shadow Company trooper to a dumpster, and was lunging viciously at the helpless soldier's neck with incredibly sharp fangs. The clanking was coming from his gun, which was scraping against the container as the trooper squirmed uselessly.
"I'm going loud." Price growled.
Price wasted no time in aiming a clean headshot at the creature, immediately incapacitating it...but not killing it.
Even though its head was blown to shreds, it still managed to stagger around, swiping haphazardly in the direction of the trooper, who was running towards Price and Terasov.
Price blasted the monster to its doom with a hail of well-aimed M4A1 rounds, swapping to his M1911 and firing a few rounds into its motionless corpse for good measure.
The Shadow Company soldier was leaned over, panting and leaning on the wall.
The SAS captain put a hand on his shoulder.
"You all right?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.
He was surprised to hear a woman's voice coming from within the suit.
"Of course I'm all right...I just got attacked by some freakish monster, I'm just dandy right now." she responded sarcastically.
"You're with Shadow Company?" Terasov asked in surprise.
"Yeah, or, at least I was. I defected when they gave the orders to kill the One-Four-One guys, and ran away here. You're...Captain John Price, aren't you?"
"Yes. That's me. Now you tell me. Who are you?" he asked, motioning with his M1911.
She pulled off her balaclava, and pushed a few strands of hair out of her face casually. She had medium-length reddish-brown hair, framing a sharp-eyed face with bright green eyes.
"My name is Corporal Meryl Shepherd, USMC engineer and CQB expert, age 27."
Shepherd. Price hoped she wasn't related to the Lieutenant General Alan Shepherd they'd just recently killed.
"Do you have any ordinance, Corporal?" Captain Price barked, in his drill-sergeant voice.
"Yes, sir. I have 5 C4 packs, 5 Claymores, and 5 sticky grenades, as well as 3 frags."
"Good. What weapons do you have?"
"I have a UMP45 with ACOG sight, and a Striker with a Red-Dot."
"That'll do fine. Are you willing to join up with us? There are a few more survivors at the city hospital; we're holding up over there."
"I'm all in. Anything is better than being stuck out here. One question, though...who's the big Russian?"
"He's Captain Sergei Terasov, from the Spetsnaz. Don't worry about him, he's pleasant enough once you get to know him."
"Okay then. Just makin' sure. Let's go."
"Sergei, you take point." Price growled, motioning with his M1911.
"Got it." the Russian responded.
He turned the corner, checking to the right, then the left with his Kalashnikov.
While he was turning to the left, he saw a large mass of flesh hurl itself at him.
The Russian captain had no time to pull the trigger before the monster slammed into him head-on. The force of the impact knocked him flat, hurling his weapon several feet away. The creature was straddling him, its talons tearing at his arms and chest, trying to get at the vulnerable neck area. He struggled to keep its claws away from his face as they tore at his uniform for traction.
"Sergei!" Meryl shouted.
She shoved past Price, who had raised his M4A1, and blasted away at the monster with her auto-shotgun, knocking it off the dazed Russian. She pumped another three shells into it, ensuring it was dead.
The Spetsnaz captain remained on the pavement for a few seconds, shell-shocked from the impact.
Eventually he stood up shakily, the entire top half of his uniform a tattered mess. There were slashes and scrapes all over his sinewy chest; fortunately, none of them were too deep.
"Sergei! Are you all right?" Captain Price asked, concern and fear evident in his voice.
"Da. I've seen worse..." Sergei groaned, staggering slightly.
"Come on, we need to get back. The sun's setting; I think that's when they come out." Meryl said, surveying their environment.
Price and Meryl helped Sergei, who had a slight limp, and was still stunned by the force of the impact, walk back to the hospital where Soap, Nikolai, and Dimitri were camping out.
"Come on, big guy, just a bit farther; you can make it." Meryl encouraged him gently.
It seemed to Captain Price that the Marine had taken an immediate liking to the husky Spetsnaz captain. But he kept his mouth shut about it. Despite his cut-the-crap direct nature, he knew when not to open his mouth.
Once they reached the hospital and got Sergei into a room, Price went to alert Soap, Nikolai, and Dimitri of their new teammate.
Soap was asleep, so he addressed only the Russians.
"Oi, Nikolai, Dimitri. There's some good news, and some bad news."
"Where's Sergei?" Nikolai exclaimed.
"That's the bad news...he was attacked by the same monsters that attacked the civilians. He's fine with just a few slashes on his upper body. Nothing severe."
"And what's the good news?"
"We have a new teammate; she's in the other room, with Sergei."
"Oh. Okay. I'll meet him later. Wait...did you say she?"
"Yes. I said she. Corporal Meryl Shepherd, USMC. She's a demolitions expert."
"But she's a girl!"
"And what, exactly, is the problem you have with that?" Price was beginning to lose his patience with Nikolai.
"Nothing...never mind..." Nikolai mumbled.
"Alright then...I'm going back to check on Sergei."
Price strode back to the injured Russian's room.
The SAS captain was relieved to find Meryl tending to Sergei's wounds, carefully disinfecting them, and bandaging the deeper ones. He leaned on the doorframe casually, observing Sergei and Meryl.
"Stop squirming, Captain Terasov...I can't get the gauze on..."
"Sorry." he mumbled, and settled down slightly.
Once she'd finished patching up his cuts, the Marine traced her fingers over the Russian's fox insignia tattoo, earning a shudder from the Russian officer.
"What does this tattoo mean?"
"It is the emblem of Fox Squad. It represents stealth and resourcefulness."
"That's interesting..." Meryl seemed lost in thought for a few seconds, until she suddenly spoke up once more.
"Wait, Fox Squad, as in, THE Fox Squad? The most highly skilled unit in all of the Spetsnaz?" she questioned, pulling slightly away from Sergei, an eyebrow raised suspiciously.
"Yes, that is right." the captain grumbled.
Meryl chuckled slightly.
"I am truly in awe. I never thought I'd meet a real live Fox Squad commando up close. Dead, maybe." The Marine said, somewhat sarcastically.
"Well, now you have. Can you give me some space, please?" Sergei muttered, annoyed.
"Yeah, sure." Meryl rolled away her chair, giving the Russian commando a wide berth.
Price smirked at his cohort's discomfort, tossing Sergei a dark gray t-shirt and pixel-patterned Kevlar-weave combat jacket.
"Here, take these. The jacket should provide a bit more protection than your uniform."
"Thanks, Captain Price." Sergei said, as he pulled on the tee and combat jacket.
"No problem."
Just then, Nikolai pushed past Price, sitting near his older brother.
"Sergei...what the hell happened?"
"We were attacked. The things that attacked us...they are hideous. They look like thin, spindly humans with thin, rotting skin. They have these...tubes on their stomachs. Their eyes are black and beady, and they have these huge talons instead of fingers. They run like hell, and a headshot is not a guaranteed killing shot. They need quite a few bullets to kill them."
"Are you hurt, brother?"
"Not badly; just a few slashes and bruises. Meryl has patched me up pretty well. How is Soap doing?"
"He's conscious, and is getting a bit better, I suppose. He can sit up now."
"Then he can defend himself. In a few days, we will be able to move out."
"Da...that is the problem, Sergei. Your truck is totaled. Our chopper is unflyable. How do we leave?"
"There must be a way; next morning, we look for vehicles."
"Sounds like a plan, my Russian friends." Price interjected. "Tomorrow we look for some way to get out. And tonight...we hole up here. We'll take shifts to guard the entrance. Meryl and I will go on the first shift. Dimitri and Sergei take the second. Nikolai watches over Soap. Agreed?"
"Sounds good to me..." Sergei and Meryl responded.
"Why am I stuck with Soap?" Nikolai grumbled.
"Because it's the most tactical decision. Meryl has explosives and an auto-shotgun. Dimitri will be useless in taking care of Soap if he needs medical attention. Sergei and I are the most experienced members of the group. That leaves you. You have good medical skills, in addition to having no unique combat abilities."
"What do you mean by that?"
"He means that you are just as good as any other soldier. Your skills in ground combat are not exactly mind-blowing." Sergei explained quietly.
"Hey! I have to be at least as good as Dimitri!"
The blonde soldier was standing right outside the door.
"I'd beg to differ, Nikolai. My time on the training course was twenty-two seconds with perfect accuracy, all headshots." he said casually.
"That's why he's in Fox Squad. His reaction times." Sergei added.
"But...but I got thirty-five seconds!" Nikolai moaned.
"And you shot every civilian target! That's why you joined the Air Force! You just blow everything up!" Sergei retorted harshly.
Nikolai hung his head when it became clear that he wouldn't be going on patrol with the others.
"Fine...fine...you win." The pilot said defeatedly.
Sergei sighed and put a hand on his little brother's shoulder.
"Hey...you don't suck too badly. Maybe, once Soap gets better, you can go on patrol with him."
"Meryl. You ready?" Price barked at the Marine.
"Hm? Of course. Got my Striker, got my UMP. Locked and loaded." she responded, standing up.
Price motioned towards a cabinet.
"We're going in fifteen. Eat something before you go."
"Yes, sir."
Price sighed, striding off to Soap's room.
He stepped in, and found the Scotsman sitting up in his hospital bed, reading a Russian magazine.
"Soap...how are you doing now?" Price asked gently.
The Scottish captain looked up from his reading, focusing his sights on his former CO and best friend.
"Much better, mate. I think I can stand up and maybe walk."
"Don't rush yourself. We don't want you to get hurt." Price said, a look of concern shadowing his features. He didn't want Soap to reopen his wounds; if that happened, he might very well get an infection and die.
"I won't, mate. I'm good enough to walk, see?" Soap responded.
The Scotsman swung his legs over the edge of the hospital bed, standing on them carefully.
He took a few tentative steps, deciding that he was all right.
"Amazing, Soap. Recovered already?" Price replied, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Eh. What can I say? Not much can stop me." Soap grinned victoriously.
"Still, you should take it easy. Don't walk around too much, sleep a lot, eat plenty."
He tossed Soap a package of instant noodles-in-a-cup and a bottle of water.
"Wow. Never thought you'd be the kind of person to get this crap..." MacTavish muttered, turning the package over in his hands.
"Necessity. It's a pain, ain't it? Eat up. You need the energy." Price said, a slight smirk on the corners of his mouth.
"Yes, drill sergeant!" Soap saluted with mock enthusiasm.
Price just chuckled, turning to leave.
"Hey! Where are you going, old friend?" the Scotsman questioned.
He turned back towards Soap.
"There are...tangos in the town. They come out at night, so Meryl and I are going on guard duty."
"Didn't know you had a badass girlfriend, Pricey."
"She isn't my girlfriend. She's a corporal from Shadow Company, former USMC. A demolitions expert as well. We found her when we went out to sweep the town. She's on our side now."
"Quite the persuader, are you? Convinced a Shadow Company trooper to work with some of the most-wanted men in the world?" Soap said as he poured water into the cup of instant noodles.
"She deserted Shadow Company when the orders to kill the One-Four-One came in, so she's almost as wanted as we are now."
"Oh. Nice. Well, good luck out there."
"One last thing, Soap. Can you figure out what's wrong with this heartbeat sensor? It isn't showing any dots, just static."
The Brit tossed the Scot a heartbeat sensor.
"Hmm...looks like it needs adjusting. I'll try and tune it again. Thought I had the settings for these things down pat..." Soap mumbled under his breath, fiddling with the dials on the tiny device.
"If you can get it working, that'd be great. We have a whole bunch of these that have the exact same problem."
"As long as I can get this one tuned up, we should be good to go."
"Hey, Price. Let's go." Meryl said, poking her head into the room.
Soap raised his eyes from the gadget he was attempting to fix, and glanced at Meryl.
"You're Meryl, huh? I'm Captain John MacTavish, Task Force 141. Nice to meet ya." Soap said, a bemused expression on his face.
"Same to you, sir." Meryl replied.
"All right, no time for pleasantries. Let's go. Lock and load, Corporal."
"Good luck out there, guys. Stay frosty." Soap said, waving at the two soldiers.
"Don't worry about us, Mohawk. We'll be fine." Meryl muttered sarcastically over her shoulder.
Soap grinned as Price and Meryl left. Meryl had an attitude; she was no pushover. He liked people who were outgoing and forceful, who weren't passive. That was why his troops didn't get along very well in the barracks; they were all bold, confident individuals. Especially Ghost and Roach.
He still couldn't believe that his XO was dead. It was a harsh blow to him. He sighed and went back to fixing the heartbeat sensor.