A fuckup
That's what this whole situation was, one, colossal, fuckup.
Gallatin, TN. August 25th, 2010. Corporal Mick Halverson, 278th Armored Calvary Regiment.
They were coming.
I let out a breath I had been holding for what felt like an eternity, my finger resting on the trigger as what used to be a person slowly came into my sights. A dozen other guardsmen and a few local cops were standing alongside me. My uniform felt like it weighed 80 pounds as sweat slowly rolled down my forehead.
"LIGHT THOSE FUCKERS UP!"
A chorus of fire erupted from the motley firing line of guardsmen and local police. half a dozen of the advancing shamblers were cut down almost instantly.
Sergeant Willis was screaming himself hoarse. I didn't blame him, considering the massive horde of shamblers making their way down 4th Avenue. It was the fourth we've encountered in just an hour. Dozens of rotting bodies already lay before our checkpoint, with new corpses being steadily adding to the growing pile.
My finger slowly squeezed the trigger, a short kick and crack was soon followed by the collapse of my target, a steady stream of blood leaking onto the crimson-soaked street.
I didn't know how many others were still out there. The Company had already been scattered to begin with, losing half our number to these things had only thinned our ranks even further. Still, we were determined to kill as many of these…things as possible. The more you killed, or distracted, the more people you saved.
"Halverson! Dawes! Cover our asses we got biters to the rear!" Sergeant Willis yelled.
I grit my teeth and spin around. Half a dozen freaks were streaming out of an alleyway a few dozen feet away.
These things are quiet when they wanna be...
Dawes immediately went to his knee, dropping the first freak with a burst to its head.
I quickly shouldered my M4, bringing an old geezer of a biter into my sights before pulling the trigger twice. The first shot tore a hole through his shoulder, but the second tore a chunk of his upper left skull apart, sending him to the ground.
"FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU" Dawes screamed as he unloaded his entire magazine into the crowd. He hadn't heard from his sister since yesterday. Given that she was a Georgian, I didn't have much hope for her.
You thought this whole thing had just been some sort of media sensation when it kicked off. Some sort of new drug or disease, none of you believed the first reports that came out of Atlanta. Homeless guys hyped up on bath salts trying tear people open, people going insane, parents contracting rabies and killing their own kids.
You thought it was one big hoax. So did most of your buddies in the Guard.
Until your unit was activated.
"Fuck, I'm black!" A guardsman yelled, his magazine running dry as he reached for his knife.
Fuck, I'm low to...
"SHIT, everyone get back! GET BACK!"
The horde was closer now, their numbers swelling to the hundreds as more and more were attracted by the sound of gunfire, their numbers stretching across the entire block.
There was panic now. They were streaming in from seemingly every alleyway and street corner. I let my M4 swing to my side, conserving my ammo. Escape was the only thought on everyone's mind now.
"Halverson over here!" Willis yelled as he shoved a shambler away, the horde was close now, climbing over the makeshift barricade of police cars.
A scream pierced through the chorus of groans and growls, one of the cops lost his nerve, accidentally backing into the loving embrace of a group of shamblers that quickly began tearing into his neck and back. His screams became a pained gurgle as blood filled his throat, bloody chunks of his arms ripped away as the horde began to feast.
I wrenched my eyes away, adrenaline overpowering fear and disgust as I followed the Sergeant. A couple of the Guardsmen had cleared a way through one of the Alleyways, beckoning the rest of the group through.
Willis jammed his knife through the skull of a biter, shoving it to the ground as he quickly blew another's skull apart with a short burst from his rifle.
Dawes let out another angry yell as he fired several bursts into the horde, covering us as we made our way off the street. Several more screams began to overpower your senses as other Guardsmen were overwhelmed by the onslaught, at least half of the group had been dragged to the asphalt by dozens of rotting hands, their screams being accompanied by the tearing of flesh.
Sweat poured down my face as we ran through the narrow alley. It was just me, Dawes, Willis, and a handful of others that remained. The horde's attempt to follow you into the alleyway was hampered by their numbers, allowing us to finally put some distance between them. It took only a few minutes to make it to the other side. Willis immediately shoulder-checked a department store door open, beckoning the rest of the group inside.
I already hate this place...
"Hurry the fuck up boys!" He ordered, scanning the streets for corpses as the squad streamed into the building, the door slamming shut as soon as everyone was in.
"We need to get in the back, don't let any of those rotting fucks see you." Willis once again ordered.
"Fucking shitshow, one big fucking shitshow." Dawes muttered under his breath, making his way through the rows of discount T-shirts and perfumes.
"What the hell do we do now? ain't nothing else left in this fucking town." Another Guardsman complained, his eyes pointed nervously towards the large outside windows.
"Shut up and get in the back." Willis ordered, shutting up the entire group as everyone streamed into what looked like a small staff room.
I staggered into the space, not noticing my fatigue until now. The door was slammed shut by the last man in, finally giving everyone a second to catch their breath.
Nobody knew what was going on, the whole East Coast was seemingly in a similar situation, according to the half-a-dozen morning briefings, reports had streamed in from Atlanta, Charlotte and Knoxville, all describing the same thing: hordes of seemingly walking dead. If you, a Corporal in the Guard, already knew all of this with the information blackout, then the real situation must be much, much worse.
How long until this ends up in California...?
"We can't stay here long, everyone catch your breath and then were getting the fuck out of this town." Willis said sternly.
"And how are we gonna do that? We gonna flintstones our way outta here? With all those empty cars?" Dawes snapped back.
"Watch your fucking tone soldier." Willis retorted, "We're going to make it through this, the brass has a plan and we're going to stick to it."
Our unit had originally been Company-strength, sent by the 278th to help local police secure Gallatin for evacuation. That little plan fell apart almost immediately, as half your number had been torn apart during the initial hours of contact. No matter how many you killed, there was always another dozen, another hundred to replace them.
Now it was just me and the handful of others holed up in this dinghy department store.
"I want ammo and water checks; I want everyone ready to move in 10 minutes." Willis ordered as he tried to raise others on the radio. I huffed, briefly taking stock of what was left of my ammo, only one full mag and the 20 or so rounds left in the rifle, not good. Everyone else was in a similar boat.
I couldn't sit still.
"Sergeant…where are we gonna go?" I asked with some hesitation.
Sergeant Willis looked back at me, hesitantly.
"Check your gear Corporal." He said flatly with faux confidence, his eyes were less certain. He turned back to his radio.
Fucker...
"Gallatin is a bust, doesn't mean everywhere else is fucked to." A shorter soldier piped up, his name was Ralston, you think.
"Last I heard, the whole state looked like this, I've got some friends over in Chattanooga, didn't sound much better last time I talked to em'."
You glanced back, one of the cops made it out of the carnage, a stocky, balding guy with blood-smeared knuckles, he must've lost his gun in the chaos.
The only other guardsman had yet to speak, his eyes trained on the floor, his silent gaze seemingly thoughtless.
"Fuck man...wonder how the north is doing..."
My heart slowly began beating at a normal pace, the adrenaline beginning to wear off as I sat down for longer than a few seconds.
To my knowledge, Willis hasn't heard anything from the 278th, or any other unit for that matter.
Its been 12 hours.
This was a fuckup.
One, big, fuckup.