Chapter 1: Rangers Lead The Way
October 1, 1998
6:00 PM
Outskirts of Raccoon City
High in the night sky and only a few miles outside of Raccoon, four sleek Black Hawk helicopters sped towards the city. Each choppper carried a company of Army Rangers twenty men strong. The troopers waited patiently in the cabins of the aircraft, decked out in full combat gear. Kevlar helmets rested securely over each man's head. Dark brown-green camouflage jackets and cargo pants covered their bodies, concealing the heavy flak jackets the soldiers wore beneath. Black combat boots rested squarely on the vibrating floor of the Black Hawk. Slung over their backs were sturdy packs containing everything from emergency flares to emergency rations. Held firmly in two gloved hands was the Ranger's primary weapon: a fully loaded M4 assault rifle.
Lieutenant Zeke Wilcott eased forward in his seat and anxiously tightened his grip around the rifle. Deep in his gut he could feel the butterflies stirring as they always did before each mission. Zeke reached up and adjusted the helmet atop his short brown hair then wiped the sweat from his brow. 'Damn thing is too stuffy!"He thought irritably, looking around the cabin.
Zeke Wilcott's face was unnaturally youthful, belying his thirty-five years by about ten. His face (young looking or not) was just as unreadable and apparently relaxed as the other members of his chalk, save for one small difference. The lieutenant's brown eyes seemed to hide heavy troubles within their depths. The Ranger tried to dismiss the unpleasant thoughts running through his head, convincing himself that he was just worrying like always but the thoughts and feelings continued to bother him. 'I might as well face it,' his mind mused, 'I'm not just worried this time. I'm not just worried like I always am about every mission. This time I'm scared too. I'm scared because you know when the cops apply to the army for help and the army responds by sending one of its best elite units to handle the situation something seriously messed up must be going on in that city. It means that an entire city of cops can't handle whatever is going on and our superiors seem to think they're right. I don't even want to think about all the rumours I've been hearing about Raccoon City on CNN either. Stuff like just simply does not happen anywhere.'
All the trooper had heard about on the news lately was the strange occurrences going on in the city his unit was headed for tonight. He had sat in his moderately sized living room and watched as the newscaster explained the turmoil gripping Raccoon City. The residents had mysteriously contracted some unknown skin disease that was reported to bear some similarities to the Marburg virus. This unknown illness had already infected a good deal of the city's populous and there was still no progress in finding a cure for the sick. Raccoon City had been placed under quarantine, completely sealed off from the public by barricades erected by the local law enforcement. Scientists and doctors were said to be working around the clock but were having little luck in identifying the disease let alone coming up with an anti-toxin. The reporters assured the public that while minor looting had taken place the authorities had the situation well in hand and, while the citizens in Raccoon were no doubt frightened, they were far from resorting to anarchy. 'Which is total horse shit,' Zeke thought, nervously chewing on the inside of his cheek, 'otherwise we wouldn't need to be here right now.'
Indeed, Lieutenant Wilcott was scared but he was not about to let his fear seep out. Not infront of these people at least. A Ranger of his high rank was expected to be a leader no matter what the situation and that meant keeping your worries and bad feelings to yourself. If anything happened to the captain Zeke would be the next in command. Others would look to him to know what to do and issue orders. Seeing their commander full of fright and apprehension would not do anyone any good. It was a hard responsibility to bear, having the lives of nineteen other men depend on your judgement, and one the lieutenant would be glad not to carry. He had been lucky so far, in all ten missions his chalk had been out on, he had never once been forced to assume command. It wasn't a confidence issue for Zeke, he knew he was a good soldier as all the men in his family had been, he just didn't know if he could live with himself if anything happened to the men under his command.
Pulling himself from his gloomy thoughts, Wilcott looked over the bench on the opposite side of the cabin and spotted his good friend Sergeant Wesley Creeks. Wes had been his pal since grade school and when Zeke told him about his decision to enlist the younger man, by two years, refused to let his friend go off to boot camp without someone to watch his back. Wesley and Zeke had graduate at the top of their class and made it into the Army Rangers together. The lieutenant had to admit that without Wes' help he probably would have met his end more than once by now. Sensing eyes on him Sergeant Creeks glanced up at his comrade and, seeing the hints of anxiety in his eyes, gave the thumbs up and slapped a goofy grin on his face, forcing Zeke to chuckle and return the sign.
Wesley Creeks was of British descent and made no attempts to hide his heritage among his American companions. When Wes had announced his plans to enlist as well, Zeke was apprehensive, worried that the other soldiers might give him a hard time for being a Brit. He was quickly proven wrong though, as Wesley's tireless sense of humour and (when the occasion called for it) professionalism earned him many friends among the other troopers. The sergeant was a sarcastic joker who had little care for rules and regulations, as such he insisted on wearing his light brown hair long, shaggy and growing a thin, well-groomed beard. Wesley's bright green eyes were always alive with mirth and the belief that everything was going to be ok provided you were willing to just bloody wait long enough.
Sitting next to Wesley on the bench was his exact opposite, in both appearance and personality, Captain Curtis Sullivan. The Ranger captain was the epitome of the hard ass officer. He was well-built, tall, stern-faced had had an icy blue stare that froze any new private in his or her steps. Unlike Sergeant Creeks, Captain Sullivan believed in the use of a razor and kept both his face and head shaven. Surrounding the man like an invisible aura was an air of authority so thick that many who met the captain for the first time felt almost suffocated by it. All you had to do was look at Curtis Sullivan and you knew that as soon as the Black Hawk set down at its destination he would be shouting orders, co-ordinating efforts and telling who to do what. Unlike most stereotypical hard ass captains, Sullivan's men genuinely respected him. He was a fair, just and honourable man who was the first one on the field and the last one off. Sullivan also wasn't above going to the local bars and kicking back a few brews with his squad members either.
The intangible aura that surrounded the man instilled Zeke with a sense of relief...and one of fear. Relief that his squad was in such capable hands but fear that if anything happened to Sullivan he would never be able to fill the shoes of such an experienced and respected commander. The butterflies in Zeke's belly were doing loopdy-loops and figure eights now. He placed a hand over his stomach in an effort to calm them.
"You feeling all right, lieutenant?" Asked tactical sniper Ryan Pierce, seeing Zeke's uneasiness.
"Yeah, I'm good," he lied, frustrated that he was letting his anxiousness start to show, "just skipped chow today. I'm kind of hungry now."
While Zeke didn't know the sniper that well, Ryan was all right in his book. He had met the thirty year old sergeant a few times back at the Rangers home base and knew the sharpshooter to be a decent, hardworking family man with a wife and little girl back at his home in Lansing, Michigan. If there was anything Zeke disliked about Ryan it was that he was too quiet, giving others the impression that he was either an anti-social jerk or had something to hide. For the most part though he followed orders and watched the backs of his teammates, which was all that really mattered to the lieutenant.
"If you're hungry I'll give you my share of the rations they passed out," boomed the powerful voice of Corporal Joesph Cooper from across the cabin, "although I wouldn't recommend you eating them."
The worrisome lieutenant actually found himself cracking a smile, the chit-chat seemed to be doing some good at relieving any pre-mission stress he was feeling. Besides, he liked Joe to begin with. Corporal Cooper was rather new to the chalk, as was Pierce, but had quickly made an excellent impression on the other Rangers. The corporal was a huge bull of a man, built like a fridge and twice as durable. Joe's bald head and dark mahogany skin gleamed in the dim light of the Black Hawk's cabin as he absently stroked his black goatee. Cooper's positive attitude and outstanding willingness to help out earned him the respect and friendship of his peers. The man would practically give you the shirt off his back. Cooper's burly size and high quantity of brawn had made him a shoe-in for the position of heavy machine gunner. Due to his position the bulky Ranger carried the M- 249 squad assault weapon in his enormous paws, rather than the M-4 rifle.
"Yeah," Zeke said, still grinning, "military rations do tend to taste like sun-dried vomit don't they?"
"Well it's really an acquired taste," chipped in Sergeant Scott Owens, who was seated opposite Wesley Creek, "kind of like my dear friend Wesley's mother. How is the old vixen, Wes? Does she have any messages for me?"
"Just one, you hairy son of a bitch," Wesley replied in his polished British accent, smiling with good humour, "she says you left this at her house and can pick it up whenever you please."
The shaggy-haired Ranger slapped on a half grin and extended his middle finger at Owens. Everyone in the cabin began to laugh and Zeke found himself joining them. If there was anyone the lieutenant was not worried about losing their head it was Scott. He had been with the unit for nearly seven years now and had proven time and time again what a capable soldier he was. Zeke had also checked out the sergeant's file and discovered the man had been decorated five times for valor. He also seemed to be friends with Wesley and any friend of Wes' was a friend of his. Scott also served as the team's radio man.
Zeke found himself actually starting to loosen up a bit. He was in the best damn squad in the best damn unit and under the guidance of the best damn captain there was. They were Army Rangers after all, there was nothing they couldn't handle. He was here to do his job and with all these experienced, capable, professional troopers backing him up how could he fail? Zeke's troubles were just beginning to ebb away when Captain Sullivan open his mouth and helped bring them all back again.
"All right, enough horsin' around ya hear?" The captain spoke with a southern accent that made him sound a bit like a cowboy but did nothing to cow the obedience demanded by his voice. The cabin was silent once more.
"Now that's better." Said Sullivan, looking around at his Rangers. "I know y'all have already been briefed on what I'm 'bout to say but it doesn't hurt to go over things twice. As y'all know the folks in Raccoon are experiencing a very serious health problem. Seems a lot of the people living there are getting sick with some type of skin disease. The doctors are workin' on it but they still haven't been able to figure out what the damn bug is. Needless to say the folks in Raccoon are gettin' scared, some of 'em are startin' to panic. The police are reporting that there's been some looting and vandalism but they expect things could get worse in the comin' days. That's where we come in.
You've all probably heard on the news that the local cops are suffering from a shortage of personnel since a great deal of their people contracted this thing in the initial outbreak. We've been asked to reinforce their numbers and help keep the peace until either a cure is found or the cops from New York arrive to replace us and maintain order. Personally, I reckon we'll be here about a week or two tops. Are there any questions?"
Captain Sullivan swept the cabin of the Black Hawk with his cold blue eyes, searching for inquiries. Ryan raised his hand after a moment. Sullivan nodded at the sniper. "What is it, Pierce?"
"Is there any danger of us contracting the virus, sir?"
"That's a good question. Everyone listen up." Sullivan's order was unnecessary, no one dare not pay attention during the man's briefing as he shouted to be heard above the rotors. "I've been informed by Raccoon health officials that the virus is not airborne and the only way to get it is through direct contact with a carrier. Therefore the odds of us becomin' infected are low but I'm not leavin' anythin' to chance. If any of you develop a severe headache, fever or skin rash during our stay report it to me immediately. Got it?"
Each Ranger nodded his head. They got it. 'Yeah, I got it.' Zeke thought, his bad feeling resurfacing as the captain went over the briefing a second time. 'I wonder if you've got it though, sir. I wonder if you've read about the same rumours that have me so bent up inside. You know, the ones about the victims of the virus getting up again, about them staggering around to eat the living, wandering aimlessly looking for warm flesh. Any of that ring a bell, Captain Sullivan? It's not that hard to believe is it? I mean this is the same place that had those cannibal murders back in June and now this? A little too close together to be a coincidence don't you think? I wonder if the people down there have heard any of the rumours. I wonder."
Zeke sighed, what was the use? Worrying about it now wouldn't change the fact that the chopper was still headed for Raccoon City and he still had a duty to perform. Besides, he always got worked up like this before missions only to have his worst fears not come true. They'd land safely and spend a boring two weeks doing patrols before some hot shot egghead would develop a miracle drug to cure the infection or the cops in New York decided to get off their asses and come lend a helping hand and then all would be well again. There wouldn't be any skin eating mutants hiding in the shadows waiting for some careless soldier to walk by and become its next meal.
"Sir?" said a heavy set voice, snapping Zeke back to reality.
"What's on your mind, Cooper?" Replied the captain, nodding at the gargantuan soldier.
"Well," Joe began, "everything we've been hearing about this mystery virus has been pretty vague. Do you know anything more about it? Like is it just a really bad fucking case of the flu or what?"
"I only know what I've been told by the doctors working on this thing." Came Sullivan's answer. "Up to this point that's been basically the symptoms and the fact that there have been some fatalities reported. Actually, there's one other thing, the virus causes brain deteration over time which eventually causes the host to become increasingly violent and despondent. That's why the police called for the extra help."
The assembled company of Rangers glanced at one another uneasily. They were used to risking their lives in fights against hostage takers and fundamentalist terrorists. They knew how to combat the living, breathing threat of a maniac with a gun...but how did you fight against a disease? What good was an assault rifle against a microscopic organism? Noticing that he might be losing his squad, Captain Curtis Sullivan did his best to lift their spirits.
"Come on now!" He shouted in his macho cowboy tone. "Don't y'all pussy out on me now! We're Army Rangers, an' it's gonna take more than a nasty cold bug to keep us out of the game right?"
"Right!" The rest of the chalk shouted in unison.
"ETA three minutes until we're over Raccoon City." Pilot Rachel Parker called back into the cabin, giving Zeke a small smile before turning back to the controls.
Rachel was another person Zeke felt remarkably fond of. He had met the twenty-three year old flygirl nearly a year ago when she started flying missions for the Rangers. The lieutenant had been unable to resist the allure of her all-white smile, dark silky hair and chestnut brown eyes. Her athletic physique, delicate laugh and give-'em-hell attitude had further drawn the trooper in. Try as he might though (and he tried exceedingly hard) Zeke's attempts to obtain a date with the young chopper pilot had been wholly unsuccessful. Each time he would ask Rachel out to dinner she would laugh that intoxicating laugh of hers and reply that she liked the man too much to get involved with him. Zeke found this disappointing fact somewhat interesting. He thought the irony in her statement just too comical to miss. Since when was liking someone too much a good reason not to get involved with them?
Whether this was the honest truth or simple fiction did not matter to Zeke. He would continue his efforts to get the pilot to join him for a drink one night and he honestly believed that one night she would say yes. Wesley seemed to find his best friend's advances on Rachel exceptionally funny. He would often chuckled and tell his buddy Zeke that a hot, young thing like their pilot would be interested in "shacking up" with an "old geezer" like him. This did nothing to shake the lieutenant's confidence though, giving up never accomplished anything was his motto.
The remainder of the trip to Raccoon City was taken in silence. The chalk of Rangers double checked their gear and weapons, making sure everything was in the right place. Securing the chin strap of his helmet, Zeke grunted with displeasure, feeling as if it was even tighter and more uncomfortable now. Wesley patted down the front of his uniform, on the other side of the material was about every lucky charm known to man. Connected to a silver chain was a four leaf clover, rabbit's foot, shark's tooth, and even a small vial of holy water. When the others would make smart remarks about the Brit's superstitious nature he would just grin and reply: "Well I'm not dead yet, am I?" Captain Sullivan jammed a plastic mouth guard into his maw. On a previous mission the helicopter had been put through a rough landing and the captain nearly bit off his lower lip. The mouth guard ensured the same thing would not happen twice.
"We're coming up over the east side of the city now." Announced Rachel from the pilot's seat. "Take a look if you like, guys."
Turning in their seats the twenty Army Rangers gazed out through the Black Hawk's windows. What they saw down in the streets below helped confirm the uneasy feeling in Zeke's stomach. A riot was raging in the east part of town, not a small looting fit like the police had reported but a full blown tantrum of uncontrolled, wanton destruction.
Bright flashes broke through the darkness, Zeke immediately recognized them as muzzle flashes, as the frenzied citizens opened fire upon one another as well as the police barricade the chopper sailed over. Police officers returned fire from behind the cover of the squad cars and wooden barriers that formed the blockade. Fires rose high as the rioters hurled Molotov cocktails through store-front windows and set cars alight with them. Projectiles of all sorts, trash cans, rocks and bricks were thrown as the looters shattered shop windows and stole the merchandise inside with crazed haste. Vehicles race haphazardly through the chaos, seeking an exit from the madness but were at a loss to find one. Rioters were sent flying as frightened drivers carelessly ran them down. Zeke and his teammates watched in horror as a pale beige car steered straight towards the police barricade at dangerous speeds.
"My God," Ryan murmured beside Zeke, watching the horrendous scene below, "they're going to try and ram their way through."
Sergeant Pierce's statement of the obvious came true as the insane driver charged full-throttle towards the thick line of SWAT trucks, squad cars and wooden fortifications. The officers immediately opened fire on the rampaging motorist, filling the car full of bullet holes. Zeke thought he saw a tire on the right side blow out as well but he couldn't be sure at the high cruising altitude of the Black Hawk. There was squeal of tires and the crunch of metal as the vehicle slammed violently into the barrier. Officers scattered to get out of harm's way, throwing themselves to the pavement and rolling for safety. Almost instantly the car erupted into a tremendous ball of orange fire, igniting the gas tank of the cruiser it had struck and causing a massive explosion. More cops were thrown from the bone- breaking crash, their bodies being slowly consumed by the flames.
"Holy shit." Owens breathed, then pressed a finger up against the glass. "Look!"
Witnessing the police barricade erupt into an inferno of burning metal, the maddened rioters charged on the officers. Perhaps they thought the fortifications were weaker now, thanks to the collision, or perhaps the panicked residents just wanted to take their aggression out on the cops whose duty was to keep them contained. Whatever the case was they failed at their objective.
Lieutenant Wilcott watched in stunned terror as the unruly mob raced towards the smouldering blockade, firing guns and hurling projectiles. The officers took up there positions once more and returned fire. The Rangers watched as the riots front-line was torn down, bodies staggering and dropping to the ground. A second line rushed the officers. This time there were trails of smoke as the police launched tear gas to subdue the enraged mod. Thick clouds of white smoke began to rise, halting the charge in mid- step. Citizens began coughing and choking, stumbling in every direction looking for escape as the gas started to blind them. The crowd began to disperse, running every which way to avoid the grasp of the painful fumes. Those who could not get out of the way were trampled by those that could.
Zeke turned away from the grizzly sight and glanced at the floor, feeling like he might throw up. The other squad members also averted their eyes moments later, feeling much the same way as Zeke did. Everyone was silent, even the usually upbeat, high-spirited Wesley looked dower.
"Looting and vandalism huh? My ass." Ryan scowled.
"We're heading into that?" Joesph remarked incredulously.
"Damn right we are!" Captain Sullivan bellowed, a train load of authority in his tone. "We're going in here so y'all better learn to deal with it! We've been in bad situations before an' we made it through 'em jus' fine. This is going to be no different alright?"
The Rangers nodded their heads solemnly.
"Alright." The captain said. "Now, our goal is the north blockade. Upon our arrival there Ms. Parker will drop us off and return to base. From the moment we set foot on the pavement our chalk will be known as Charlie Company. The team at the east barricade is Alpha. Bravo Company has the west end and Delta will take the south barrier. Upon our arrival I will contact the other companies to ensure that they have reached their goals. From there on out we reinforce the security measures set up by the local cops. You've seen how bad things are in the east end so I expect all of you to be alert and follow my orders to the letter. Do you get me?"
"We get you, sir!" The assembled soldiers answered as one.
"Rangers lead the way!" Sullivan yelled with pride.
"All the way!" Came a collective shout.
"Here we go." Zeke muttered to himself nervously, holding his rifle tighter.
"What's our ETA to target, pilot?" The Ranger commander questioned.
"About-" was all Rachel managed to reply before a heart-stopping explosion rocked the cabin.
Lieutenant Wilcott felt his stomach jump into his throat as a loud bang rang out and the chopper dipped heavily to the right. A couple Rangers hissed curse words as the Black Hawk began to sway and shake violently. Several thick tendrils of black smoke drifted into the cabin from the front of the helicopter.
"What the bloody hell was that?" Wesley shouted, gripping the bench beneath him for dear life, then began coughing from the dense fumes.
"Report, pilot!" Sullivan demanded, calling into the cockpit where Rachel and her co-pilot struggled with the controls.
"I'm not sure, sir!" Rachel yelled back, the panic in her voice scarring Zeke more than he liked. "Something in the engine overheated and blew...fuck! The controls are shot too. Shit, shit, shit! W-we're going down, sir."
The Black Hawk continued to spiral out of control. Lieutenant Wilcott could almost sense the pavement rising up to destroy them as they sank closer. The Rangers hastily secured themselves to their seats, digging their fingers into the benches struggling, coughing and near blind from the putrid smelling smoke. Zeke finally managed to snap his own belt into place.
"Stay clam!" The dependable Captain Sullivan commanded. "We are making a crash landing in hostile territory! Be prepared for immediate combat once we land!"
"By land you mean get smashed to bits on the bloody sidewalk right, captain?" Wesley looked over at his superior with askance as the entire cabin began to tremble.
"Can it, sergeant!" Sullivan spat. "Brace for impact!"
Lieutenant Zeke Wilcott shut his eyes tight, gripping onto his seat hard enough to turn his knuckles white. The Black Hawk continued its rapid descent as the pilots fought desperately for control. 'What the fuck happened?' The thought raced through the lieutenant's mind as he tried to ignore the dizzy sensations washing over him. 'So much for there being nothing to worry about.'
These last words travelled out of Zeke's mind and were replaced by the horrid stench of fire and smoke. The splintering sound of metal tearing and contracting tore through his brain like a hot razor. A violent tremor shook the cabin and its inhabitants a moment later. Zeke felt his head painfully collide with the back of the Black Hawk's cabin as the wall behind him buckled. Thinking that he should have listened better to his instincts, Zeke drifted off into unconsciousness.
October 1, 1998
6:00 PM
Outskirts of Raccoon City
High in the night sky and only a few miles outside of Raccoon, four sleek Black Hawk helicopters sped towards the city. Each choppper carried a company of Army Rangers twenty men strong. The troopers waited patiently in the cabins of the aircraft, decked out in full combat gear. Kevlar helmets rested securely over each man's head. Dark brown-green camouflage jackets and cargo pants covered their bodies, concealing the heavy flak jackets the soldiers wore beneath. Black combat boots rested squarely on the vibrating floor of the Black Hawk. Slung over their backs were sturdy packs containing everything from emergency flares to emergency rations. Held firmly in two gloved hands was the Ranger's primary weapon: a fully loaded M4 assault rifle.
Lieutenant Zeke Wilcott eased forward in his seat and anxiously tightened his grip around the rifle. Deep in his gut he could feel the butterflies stirring as they always did before each mission. Zeke reached up and adjusted the helmet atop his short brown hair then wiped the sweat from his brow. 'Damn thing is too stuffy!"He thought irritably, looking around the cabin.
Zeke Wilcott's face was unnaturally youthful, belying his thirty-five years by about ten. His face (young looking or not) was just as unreadable and apparently relaxed as the other members of his chalk, save for one small difference. The lieutenant's brown eyes seemed to hide heavy troubles within their depths. The Ranger tried to dismiss the unpleasant thoughts running through his head, convincing himself that he was just worrying like always but the thoughts and feelings continued to bother him. 'I might as well face it,' his mind mused, 'I'm not just worried this time. I'm not just worried like I always am about every mission. This time I'm scared too. I'm scared because you know when the cops apply to the army for help and the army responds by sending one of its best elite units to handle the situation something seriously messed up must be going on in that city. It means that an entire city of cops can't handle whatever is going on and our superiors seem to think they're right. I don't even want to think about all the rumours I've been hearing about Raccoon City on CNN either. Stuff like just simply does not happen anywhere.'
All the trooper had heard about on the news lately was the strange occurrences going on in the city his unit was headed for tonight. He had sat in his moderately sized living room and watched as the newscaster explained the turmoil gripping Raccoon City. The residents had mysteriously contracted some unknown skin disease that was reported to bear some similarities to the Marburg virus. This unknown illness had already infected a good deal of the city's populous and there was still no progress in finding a cure for the sick. Raccoon City had been placed under quarantine, completely sealed off from the public by barricades erected by the local law enforcement. Scientists and doctors were said to be working around the clock but were having little luck in identifying the disease let alone coming up with an anti-toxin. The reporters assured the public that while minor looting had taken place the authorities had the situation well in hand and, while the citizens in Raccoon were no doubt frightened, they were far from resorting to anarchy. 'Which is total horse shit,' Zeke thought, nervously chewing on the inside of his cheek, 'otherwise we wouldn't need to be here right now.'
Indeed, Lieutenant Wilcott was scared but he was not about to let his fear seep out. Not infront of these people at least. A Ranger of his high rank was expected to be a leader no matter what the situation and that meant keeping your worries and bad feelings to yourself. If anything happened to the captain Zeke would be the next in command. Others would look to him to know what to do and issue orders. Seeing their commander full of fright and apprehension would not do anyone any good. It was a hard responsibility to bear, having the lives of nineteen other men depend on your judgement, and one the lieutenant would be glad not to carry. He had been lucky so far, in all ten missions his chalk had been out on, he had never once been forced to assume command. It wasn't a confidence issue for Zeke, he knew he was a good soldier as all the men in his family had been, he just didn't know if he could live with himself if anything happened to the men under his command.
Pulling himself from his gloomy thoughts, Wilcott looked over the bench on the opposite side of the cabin and spotted his good friend Sergeant Wesley Creeks. Wes had been his pal since grade school and when Zeke told him about his decision to enlist the younger man, by two years, refused to let his friend go off to boot camp without someone to watch his back. Wesley and Zeke had graduate at the top of their class and made it into the Army Rangers together. The lieutenant had to admit that without Wes' help he probably would have met his end more than once by now. Sensing eyes on him Sergeant Creeks glanced up at his comrade and, seeing the hints of anxiety in his eyes, gave the thumbs up and slapped a goofy grin on his face, forcing Zeke to chuckle and return the sign.
Wesley Creeks was of British descent and made no attempts to hide his heritage among his American companions. When Wes had announced his plans to enlist as well, Zeke was apprehensive, worried that the other soldiers might give him a hard time for being a Brit. He was quickly proven wrong though, as Wesley's tireless sense of humour and (when the occasion called for it) professionalism earned him many friends among the other troopers. The sergeant was a sarcastic joker who had little care for rules and regulations, as such he insisted on wearing his light brown hair long, shaggy and growing a thin, well-groomed beard. Wesley's bright green eyes were always alive with mirth and the belief that everything was going to be ok provided you were willing to just bloody wait long enough.
Sitting next to Wesley on the bench was his exact opposite, in both appearance and personality, Captain Curtis Sullivan. The Ranger captain was the epitome of the hard ass officer. He was well-built, tall, stern-faced had had an icy blue stare that froze any new private in his or her steps. Unlike Sergeant Creeks, Captain Sullivan believed in the use of a razor and kept both his face and head shaven. Surrounding the man like an invisible aura was an air of authority so thick that many who met the captain for the first time felt almost suffocated by it. All you had to do was look at Curtis Sullivan and you knew that as soon as the Black Hawk set down at its destination he would be shouting orders, co-ordinating efforts and telling who to do what. Unlike most stereotypical hard ass captains, Sullivan's men genuinely respected him. He was a fair, just and honourable man who was the first one on the field and the last one off. Sullivan also wasn't above going to the local bars and kicking back a few brews with his squad members either.
The intangible aura that surrounded the man instilled Zeke with a sense of relief...and one of fear. Relief that his squad was in such capable hands but fear that if anything happened to Sullivan he would never be able to fill the shoes of such an experienced and respected commander. The butterflies in Zeke's belly were doing loopdy-loops and figure eights now. He placed a hand over his stomach in an effort to calm them.
"You feeling all right, lieutenant?" Asked tactical sniper Ryan Pierce, seeing Zeke's uneasiness.
"Yeah, I'm good," he lied, frustrated that he was letting his anxiousness start to show, "just skipped chow today. I'm kind of hungry now."
While Zeke didn't know the sniper that well, Ryan was all right in his book. He had met the thirty year old sergeant a few times back at the Rangers home base and knew the sharpshooter to be a decent, hardworking family man with a wife and little girl back at his home in Lansing, Michigan. If there was anything Zeke disliked about Ryan it was that he was too quiet, giving others the impression that he was either an anti-social jerk or had something to hide. For the most part though he followed orders and watched the backs of his teammates, which was all that really mattered to the lieutenant.
"If you're hungry I'll give you my share of the rations they passed out," boomed the powerful voice of Corporal Joesph Cooper from across the cabin, "although I wouldn't recommend you eating them."
The worrisome lieutenant actually found himself cracking a smile, the chit-chat seemed to be doing some good at relieving any pre-mission stress he was feeling. Besides, he liked Joe to begin with. Corporal Cooper was rather new to the chalk, as was Pierce, but had quickly made an excellent impression on the other Rangers. The corporal was a huge bull of a man, built like a fridge and twice as durable. Joe's bald head and dark mahogany skin gleamed in the dim light of the Black Hawk's cabin as he absently stroked his black goatee. Cooper's positive attitude and outstanding willingness to help out earned him the respect and friendship of his peers. The man would practically give you the shirt off his back. Cooper's burly size and high quantity of brawn had made him a shoe-in for the position of heavy machine gunner. Due to his position the bulky Ranger carried the M- 249 squad assault weapon in his enormous paws, rather than the M-4 rifle.
"Yeah," Zeke said, still grinning, "military rations do tend to taste like sun-dried vomit don't they?"
"Well it's really an acquired taste," chipped in Sergeant Scott Owens, who was seated opposite Wesley Creek, "kind of like my dear friend Wesley's mother. How is the old vixen, Wes? Does she have any messages for me?"
"Just one, you hairy son of a bitch," Wesley replied in his polished British accent, smiling with good humour, "she says you left this at her house and can pick it up whenever you please."
The shaggy-haired Ranger slapped on a half grin and extended his middle finger at Owens. Everyone in the cabin began to laugh and Zeke found himself joining them. If there was anyone the lieutenant was not worried about losing their head it was Scott. He had been with the unit for nearly seven years now and had proven time and time again what a capable soldier he was. Zeke had also checked out the sergeant's file and discovered the man had been decorated five times for valor. He also seemed to be friends with Wesley and any friend of Wes' was a friend of his. Scott also served as the team's radio man.
Zeke found himself actually starting to loosen up a bit. He was in the best damn squad in the best damn unit and under the guidance of the best damn captain there was. They were Army Rangers after all, there was nothing they couldn't handle. He was here to do his job and with all these experienced, capable, professional troopers backing him up how could he fail? Zeke's troubles were just beginning to ebb away when Captain Sullivan open his mouth and helped bring them all back again.
"All right, enough horsin' around ya hear?" The captain spoke with a southern accent that made him sound a bit like a cowboy but did nothing to cow the obedience demanded by his voice. The cabin was silent once more.
"Now that's better." Said Sullivan, looking around at his Rangers. "I know y'all have already been briefed on what I'm 'bout to say but it doesn't hurt to go over things twice. As y'all know the folks in Raccoon are experiencing a very serious health problem. Seems a lot of the people living there are getting sick with some type of skin disease. The doctors are workin' on it but they still haven't been able to figure out what the damn bug is. Needless to say the folks in Raccoon are gettin' scared, some of 'em are startin' to panic. The police are reporting that there's been some looting and vandalism but they expect things could get worse in the comin' days. That's where we come in.
You've all probably heard on the news that the local cops are suffering from a shortage of personnel since a great deal of their people contracted this thing in the initial outbreak. We've been asked to reinforce their numbers and help keep the peace until either a cure is found or the cops from New York arrive to replace us and maintain order. Personally, I reckon we'll be here about a week or two tops. Are there any questions?"
Captain Sullivan swept the cabin of the Black Hawk with his cold blue eyes, searching for inquiries. Ryan raised his hand after a moment. Sullivan nodded at the sniper. "What is it, Pierce?"
"Is there any danger of us contracting the virus, sir?"
"That's a good question. Everyone listen up." Sullivan's order was unnecessary, no one dare not pay attention during the man's briefing as he shouted to be heard above the rotors. "I've been informed by Raccoon health officials that the virus is not airborne and the only way to get it is through direct contact with a carrier. Therefore the odds of us becomin' infected are low but I'm not leavin' anythin' to chance. If any of you develop a severe headache, fever or skin rash during our stay report it to me immediately. Got it?"
Each Ranger nodded his head. They got it. 'Yeah, I got it.' Zeke thought, his bad feeling resurfacing as the captain went over the briefing a second time. 'I wonder if you've got it though, sir. I wonder if you've read about the same rumours that have me so bent up inside. You know, the ones about the victims of the virus getting up again, about them staggering around to eat the living, wandering aimlessly looking for warm flesh. Any of that ring a bell, Captain Sullivan? It's not that hard to believe is it? I mean this is the same place that had those cannibal murders back in June and now this? A little too close together to be a coincidence don't you think? I wonder if the people down there have heard any of the rumours. I wonder."
Zeke sighed, what was the use? Worrying about it now wouldn't change the fact that the chopper was still headed for Raccoon City and he still had a duty to perform. Besides, he always got worked up like this before missions only to have his worst fears not come true. They'd land safely and spend a boring two weeks doing patrols before some hot shot egghead would develop a miracle drug to cure the infection or the cops in New York decided to get off their asses and come lend a helping hand and then all would be well again. There wouldn't be any skin eating mutants hiding in the shadows waiting for some careless soldier to walk by and become its next meal.
"Sir?" said a heavy set voice, snapping Zeke back to reality.
"What's on your mind, Cooper?" Replied the captain, nodding at the gargantuan soldier.
"Well," Joe began, "everything we've been hearing about this mystery virus has been pretty vague. Do you know anything more about it? Like is it just a really bad fucking case of the flu or what?"
"I only know what I've been told by the doctors working on this thing." Came Sullivan's answer. "Up to this point that's been basically the symptoms and the fact that there have been some fatalities reported. Actually, there's one other thing, the virus causes brain deteration over time which eventually causes the host to become increasingly violent and despondent. That's why the police called for the extra help."
The assembled company of Rangers glanced at one another uneasily. They were used to risking their lives in fights against hostage takers and fundamentalist terrorists. They knew how to combat the living, breathing threat of a maniac with a gun...but how did you fight against a disease? What good was an assault rifle against a microscopic organism? Noticing that he might be losing his squad, Captain Curtis Sullivan did his best to lift their spirits.
"Come on now!" He shouted in his macho cowboy tone. "Don't y'all pussy out on me now! We're Army Rangers, an' it's gonna take more than a nasty cold bug to keep us out of the game right?"
"Right!" The rest of the chalk shouted in unison.
"ETA three minutes until we're over Raccoon City." Pilot Rachel Parker called back into the cabin, giving Zeke a small smile before turning back to the controls.
Rachel was another person Zeke felt remarkably fond of. He had met the twenty-three year old flygirl nearly a year ago when she started flying missions for the Rangers. The lieutenant had been unable to resist the allure of her all-white smile, dark silky hair and chestnut brown eyes. Her athletic physique, delicate laugh and give-'em-hell attitude had further drawn the trooper in. Try as he might though (and he tried exceedingly hard) Zeke's attempts to obtain a date with the young chopper pilot had been wholly unsuccessful. Each time he would ask Rachel out to dinner she would laugh that intoxicating laugh of hers and reply that she liked the man too much to get involved with him. Zeke found this disappointing fact somewhat interesting. He thought the irony in her statement just too comical to miss. Since when was liking someone too much a good reason not to get involved with them?
Whether this was the honest truth or simple fiction did not matter to Zeke. He would continue his efforts to get the pilot to join him for a drink one night and he honestly believed that one night she would say yes. Wesley seemed to find his best friend's advances on Rachel exceptionally funny. He would often chuckled and tell his buddy Zeke that a hot, young thing like their pilot would be interested in "shacking up" with an "old geezer" like him. This did nothing to shake the lieutenant's confidence though, giving up never accomplished anything was his motto.
The remainder of the trip to Raccoon City was taken in silence. The chalk of Rangers double checked their gear and weapons, making sure everything was in the right place. Securing the chin strap of his helmet, Zeke grunted with displeasure, feeling as if it was even tighter and more uncomfortable now. Wesley patted down the front of his uniform, on the other side of the material was about every lucky charm known to man. Connected to a silver chain was a four leaf clover, rabbit's foot, shark's tooth, and even a small vial of holy water. When the others would make smart remarks about the Brit's superstitious nature he would just grin and reply: "Well I'm not dead yet, am I?" Captain Sullivan jammed a plastic mouth guard into his maw. On a previous mission the helicopter had been put through a rough landing and the captain nearly bit off his lower lip. The mouth guard ensured the same thing would not happen twice.
"We're coming up over the east side of the city now." Announced Rachel from the pilot's seat. "Take a look if you like, guys."
Turning in their seats the twenty Army Rangers gazed out through the Black Hawk's windows. What they saw down in the streets below helped confirm the uneasy feeling in Zeke's stomach. A riot was raging in the east part of town, not a small looting fit like the police had reported but a full blown tantrum of uncontrolled, wanton destruction.
Bright flashes broke through the darkness, Zeke immediately recognized them as muzzle flashes, as the frenzied citizens opened fire upon one another as well as the police barricade the chopper sailed over. Police officers returned fire from behind the cover of the squad cars and wooden barriers that formed the blockade. Fires rose high as the rioters hurled Molotov cocktails through store-front windows and set cars alight with them. Projectiles of all sorts, trash cans, rocks and bricks were thrown as the looters shattered shop windows and stole the merchandise inside with crazed haste. Vehicles race haphazardly through the chaos, seeking an exit from the madness but were at a loss to find one. Rioters were sent flying as frightened drivers carelessly ran them down. Zeke and his teammates watched in horror as a pale beige car steered straight towards the police barricade at dangerous speeds.
"My God," Ryan murmured beside Zeke, watching the horrendous scene below, "they're going to try and ram their way through."
Sergeant Pierce's statement of the obvious came true as the insane driver charged full-throttle towards the thick line of SWAT trucks, squad cars and wooden fortifications. The officers immediately opened fire on the rampaging motorist, filling the car full of bullet holes. Zeke thought he saw a tire on the right side blow out as well but he couldn't be sure at the high cruising altitude of the Black Hawk. There was squeal of tires and the crunch of metal as the vehicle slammed violently into the barrier. Officers scattered to get out of harm's way, throwing themselves to the pavement and rolling for safety. Almost instantly the car erupted into a tremendous ball of orange fire, igniting the gas tank of the cruiser it had struck and causing a massive explosion. More cops were thrown from the bone- breaking crash, their bodies being slowly consumed by the flames.
"Holy shit." Owens breathed, then pressed a finger up against the glass. "Look!"
Witnessing the police barricade erupt into an inferno of burning metal, the maddened rioters charged on the officers. Perhaps they thought the fortifications were weaker now, thanks to the collision, or perhaps the panicked residents just wanted to take their aggression out on the cops whose duty was to keep them contained. Whatever the case was they failed at their objective.
Lieutenant Wilcott watched in stunned terror as the unruly mob raced towards the smouldering blockade, firing guns and hurling projectiles. The officers took up there positions once more and returned fire. The Rangers watched as the riots front-line was torn down, bodies staggering and dropping to the ground. A second line rushed the officers. This time there were trails of smoke as the police launched tear gas to subdue the enraged mod. Thick clouds of white smoke began to rise, halting the charge in mid- step. Citizens began coughing and choking, stumbling in every direction looking for escape as the gas started to blind them. The crowd began to disperse, running every which way to avoid the grasp of the painful fumes. Those who could not get out of the way were trampled by those that could.
Zeke turned away from the grizzly sight and glanced at the floor, feeling like he might throw up. The other squad members also averted their eyes moments later, feeling much the same way as Zeke did. Everyone was silent, even the usually upbeat, high-spirited Wesley looked dower.
"Looting and vandalism huh? My ass." Ryan scowled.
"We're heading into that?" Joesph remarked incredulously.
"Damn right we are!" Captain Sullivan bellowed, a train load of authority in his tone. "We're going in here so y'all better learn to deal with it! We've been in bad situations before an' we made it through 'em jus' fine. This is going to be no different alright?"
The Rangers nodded their heads solemnly.
"Alright." The captain said. "Now, our goal is the north blockade. Upon our arrival there Ms. Parker will drop us off and return to base. From the moment we set foot on the pavement our chalk will be known as Charlie Company. The team at the east barricade is Alpha. Bravo Company has the west end and Delta will take the south barrier. Upon our arrival I will contact the other companies to ensure that they have reached their goals. From there on out we reinforce the security measures set up by the local cops. You've seen how bad things are in the east end so I expect all of you to be alert and follow my orders to the letter. Do you get me?"
"We get you, sir!" The assembled soldiers answered as one.
"Rangers lead the way!" Sullivan yelled with pride.
"All the way!" Came a collective shout.
"Here we go." Zeke muttered to himself nervously, holding his rifle tighter.
"What's our ETA to target, pilot?" The Ranger commander questioned.
"About-" was all Rachel managed to reply before a heart-stopping explosion rocked the cabin.
Lieutenant Wilcott felt his stomach jump into his throat as a loud bang rang out and the chopper dipped heavily to the right. A couple Rangers hissed curse words as the Black Hawk began to sway and shake violently. Several thick tendrils of black smoke drifted into the cabin from the front of the helicopter.
"What the bloody hell was that?" Wesley shouted, gripping the bench beneath him for dear life, then began coughing from the dense fumes.
"Report, pilot!" Sullivan demanded, calling into the cockpit where Rachel and her co-pilot struggled with the controls.
"I'm not sure, sir!" Rachel yelled back, the panic in her voice scarring Zeke more than he liked. "Something in the engine overheated and blew...fuck! The controls are shot too. Shit, shit, shit! W-we're going down, sir."
The Black Hawk continued to spiral out of control. Lieutenant Wilcott could almost sense the pavement rising up to destroy them as they sank closer. The Rangers hastily secured themselves to their seats, digging their fingers into the benches struggling, coughing and near blind from the putrid smelling smoke. Zeke finally managed to snap his own belt into place.
"Stay clam!" The dependable Captain Sullivan commanded. "We are making a crash landing in hostile territory! Be prepared for immediate combat once we land!"
"By land you mean get smashed to bits on the bloody sidewalk right, captain?" Wesley looked over at his superior with askance as the entire cabin began to tremble.
"Can it, sergeant!" Sullivan spat. "Brace for impact!"
Lieutenant Zeke Wilcott shut his eyes tight, gripping onto his seat hard enough to turn his knuckles white. The Black Hawk continued its rapid descent as the pilots fought desperately for control. 'What the fuck happened?' The thought raced through the lieutenant's mind as he tried to ignore the dizzy sensations washing over him. 'So much for there being nothing to worry about.'
These last words travelled out of Zeke's mind and were replaced by the horrid stench of fire and smoke. The splintering sound of metal tearing and contracting tore through his brain like a hot razor. A violent tremor shook the cabin and its inhabitants a moment later. Zeke felt his head painfully collide with the back of the Black Hawk's cabin as the wall behind him buckled. Thinking that he should have listened better to his instincts, Zeke drifted off into unconsciousness.