Rend, page 14
Campbell finally had enough room to scoot on his ass backward. He fired his 9-millimeter pistol twice into the face of one creature and Kestrel dove for cover as the HRT member swung his weapon around and fired into a zombie that was in line with him.
Kestrel let his momentum carry him into a summersault and he came up on one knee with his rifle already at his cheek. He fired one round at a zombie and smoothly transitioned to dispatch the second target. Only years of practice would have allowed him to remain so calm under the pressure of the situation and allow his mind to shut off his body’s pain receptors.
He stood up gingerly and limped toward Campbell, who still sat on his ass with his eyes wide in terror. “You okay, Caleb?” Kestrel asked gruffly.
The agent blinked then felt his body quickly, “I… I think so. Those motherfuckers were trying to eat me!”
“Yeah, the subject matter experts mentioned that the bastards like to bite,” he muttered as he offered Campbell a hand. “Did they penetrate your suit?”
“I don’t feel any blood, but I’m so bruised and battered, it would be hard to tell,” the younger man answered.
“I need you to figure it out real quick. We have the A-Coll antidote, but it will only work for a few minutes after a bite. After that, the changes are too advanced,” Kestrel stated.
Campbell pressed lightly in a few places and then answered, “I think the sharksuit held. Good call on that… Where the fuck did those things come from?”
“They were probably moving down this road here,” Kestrel pointed toward D Street, “toward the helicopter crash site and just happened to stumble into us at the exact moment we came from behind the trees. We need to get moving, can you walk?”
“Yeah, I might be a little slow at first though. My legs feel like I’ve got about twenty charley horses.”
“Mine too,” Kestrel answered truthfully. “We still have a mission to carry out though. I don’t even want to think about what we’re gonna find when we get to the crash site.”
“Yeah… Hey, Asher,” Campbell said as he placed a hand on Kestrel’s shoulder. “Thank you for saving my life, man.”
“No worries. You’d have done the same for me.” I hope. “Let’s go.”
*****
08 March, 1142 hrs local
The National Archives
Washington, DC
The speaker beeped in Allyson’s ear letting her know that a call was coming in. She switched her radio on and said, “Harper.”
“This is Kestrel, just wanted to let you know that we’re alright.”
“Oh my God, Asher! I’ve been worried sick about you. What the hell happened?”
“We ran into a little trouble that delayed us a bit,” Kestrel answered. “But we’re okay, continuing mission.”
“That’s it? You were delayed for a bit and now everything is fine?” she seethed. “What’s your current location?”
“Moving north along 5th Street,” he replied. “We’re about three blocks from the crash site.”
“What delayed you?”
“We were attacked by a small group of zombies that we had to dispatch.”
She thought about it for a moment and hated herself for what she was about to say. “Kestrel, I’ve changed my mind. You need to return to the Archives and continue with your primary mission of directing the security force here.”
There was a long pause and finally Kestrel answered, “I’ve discussed it with Agent Campbell and told him your directive. He’s willing to comply, but can’t break the Bureau’s mission policy regarding single person movement in the city.”
She searched her mind, trying to determine what he meant. Then she remembered that the deputy director had specifically stated that no one would move around in the city without a partner. “He wouldn’t be violating the policy; he’ll be with you.”
“No, he won’t,” Kestrel replied. “I’m going to the crash site and either rescuing those soldiers or shooting the zombies that they’ve become.”
She slammed her hand against the wall of the vault and startled several of the recovery team. “Sorry,” Allyson said to the team standing in the room with her and then turned away so they couldn’t see her facial expression. “This is a direct order, Kestrel. You will return to the Archives.”
“I’m sorry, Agent Harper, but I don’t really work for you. That helicopter crew deserves a chance at a rescue and the way I see it, we’re the only people that can get to them.”
She leaned heavily against the wall and said, “Don’t do this, Kestrel… Asher, this is something that I don’t think I’ll be able to come back from. It will ruin everything.”
There was another pause and then Kestrel answered her back. “I understand, Allyson. Those men deserve a chance to live—” The sound of muffled gunfire interrupted him as it came across the open microphone. “Hey, I’ve got to go. I hope I see you on the flip side.”
The radio clicked off and she slid slowly to the floor. She rested her head on her forearms and cried.
*****
08 March, 1148 hrs local
G Street NW
Washington, DC
“Holy fuck, one of the crewmen is still alive!” Kestrel shouted when he heard the gunfire.
They sprinted the final half of the block as best as their battered bodies would allow them and turned the corner onto G Street. Kestrel made it around the corner half a step ahead of Campbell and threw his arm up to stop the agent.
He looked questioningly at Kestrel who leaned close and said, “Zombies.”
Campbell nodded his head and the older man pointed to the open stairwell in the building on the corner. They crept silently up the stairs until they were on the second floor landing. The chaos of the crash site spread out below them.
The helicopter had hit the former Government Accountability Office with the rotors first and the side of the building displayed the scars from the aircraft’s slide all the way down the six-story building to the ground. The entire tail section had torn away and the main crew compartment rested on its side with the engines and roof pressed up against the building’s concrete front. There were easily a thousand zombies filling the street and pressing up close to reach the helicopter.
The front windshield of the bird was entirely shattered and creatures had wormed their way inside in an effort to reach the surviving crewmember. One man stood on the side of the helicopter firing into the open doorway below him with an M-4 rifle. It would be a losing battle for him because the more of the creatures that he killed, the higher the stack of bodies would become and it would eventually be tall enough that the zombies scrambling below would be able to reach him. Luck was not on the man’s side since the positioning of the helo didn’t place it near a window or ledge that he could crawl to.
Kestrel keyed up his radio to the command frequency. “This is Kestrel. I’m at the crash site. There is at least one survivor. We have a Blackhawk circling overhead and I need to talk them onto the target.”
There was a moment of static as the direct linkages were established. A voice crackled in his headset, “This is Brahma Two-Seven. I’m directly above the crash site, but we can’t risk landing due to the threat, over.”
“Acknowledged,” Kestrel replied. “Can you see the downed helicopter?”
“It’s hard to see through the fog, but we can identify the bird, over.”
“There’s one survivor at the crash site, but he’s surrounded by zombies and we can’t get to him. Can you clear some of them out of the way for us?”
“We’d be firing danger-close to that helicopter and I’m not sure that’s something we’re comfortable with, over.”
Fucking pussy, Kestrel thought. “Listen,” he said over the radio, “if you don’t help to clear a path, that soldier is going to die anyways. The crewmember is on top of the downed helicopter, so as long as your gunner doesn’t fire directly at Brahma Two-Three, you will be fine.”
There was a pause as the pilots discussed it with their higher headquarters and then they replied back, “Acknowledged. We’ll lower into the intersection and begin firing now, over.”
“Thanks,” he answered as Brahma Two-Seven slowly lowered into the intersection near Kestrel and Campbell. Then he remembered their earlier encounter with the helicopter gunners and said, “Make sure your gunner aims at head level instead of the midsection. The only way to kill these things is with a head shot.” The helicopter rotated so the nose was facing north and it provided the door gunner with a direct line of sight to the targets. And then he unleashed hell. Every tenth round was a tracer and it looked like a solid stream of light shooting from the end of the Blackhawk’s machine gun into the zombies in the street.
After two minutes the gunner stopped and the helicopter slowly began to climb back into the sky. “Kestrel, this is Brahma Two-Seven. We’re not leaving. The starboard gunner is out of ammo so we’re rotating to the port side, over.”
“I got it. You guys are rocking these mother fuckers!” Kestrel replied with a grin. He’d never been very good at following the proper radio procedures anyways. Now that he was retired and brought in as an individual consultant, he could say whatever the hell he wanted to say over the net.
Once the Blackhawk was high enough to avoid any buildings, the pilots rotated 180 degrees so the port side gunner could fire his machine gun. As before, they lowered the bird until they hovered about ten feet off the ground and the gunner began to fire. It was instantly clear to Kestrel that this gunner was the better of the two. While the first one had just rocked his weapon, spitting tons of lead down the street inaccurately, this gunner fired in controlled bursts and made a concerted effort to get as close to the downed helo as possible. Heads exploded by the hundreds as the gunner expertly fired where Kestrel had directed earlier.
The helicopter stopped firing and his radio pinged again. “This is Brahma Two-Seven, we’re bingo ammo. We’ve done about all we can do, but will stay on station in overwatch to provide you details on the zombies’ movements, over.”
“Your gunners kicked the fuck out of these things and you’ve made our job a whole lot easier, thank you. Kestrel out,” he replied over the radio with at least a somewhat military ending to the conversation. Then he tapped Campbell and said, “Alright, let’s take out what we can from up here and then we’ll move in and secure the crewman.”
The men spent the next five minutes firing from their elevated position and mechanically dispatching the remaining creatures. Finally, Kestrel called it. “Okay, I’m going to the crash site. Stay here and shoot any motherfucker that comes onto this street.”
“Got it,” Campbell replied. He never even pulled his cheek away from his rifle, but continued to fire at creatures as they emerged from the murk.
There seemed to be a lot of shortcomings with Caleb Campbell in the office and training environment, but Kestrel was beginning to think that maybe he misjudged the man. When the shit hit the fan he was a top-notch professional in the field. Kestrel clapped the agent’s shoulder lightly and then ran down the stairs with his rifle at the ready in case anything jumped out from around the corner and he had to deal with it.
When he reached street level, Kestrel lost clear visibility of the downed helicopter in the mist, but he could still make out the general shape of the wreckage. He walked quickly in a crouch toward the crash site, constantly scanning for targets. A few of the zombies clawed at his legs while he walked by, but the helicopter gunners had done an excellent job of taking out most of the creatures in the street and he slipped several times on the gore that filled the area. As he neared the crash site, the helicopter began to take on a more distinct appearance. He could see the crewmember frantically kicking at hands, breaking the fingers that reached up through the doorway for him.
Kestrel continued to advance slowly and assess the situation as he walked. The helicopter was on its side and he could plainly see the stubby wheels that most of the military aircraft seemed to have instead of skids like the civilian helicopters and the Little Birds that he was accustomed to in the Special Operations community. The only way into the bird was either through the skyward-facing door or through the shattered front windshield. He briefly considered calling out to the crewman, but didn’t want to risk the man falling into the waiting zombies below when he tried to jump off the bird. That meant that he needed to enter the helo from the front and clear all of them out.
He slowly circled wide of the vehicle and he ducked involuntarily as the air near his head snapped when a round passed by him. He turned quickly in the direction that the round had likely traveled just in time to see a zombie crumple to the ground with the top half of its head missing. Kestrel muttered silent thanks for his guardian angel in the stairwell and refocused on the helicopter.
The shatter-resistant windshield had been completely pushed inward as the creatures used brute force to make their way inside. One pilot was suspended sideways strapped into his seat with his throat missing and the second pilot clawed mercilessly at the air trying to reach him. The poor bastard must have survived the crash, but wasn’t able to get out of his harness before the zombies attacked him and now he was just another member of the undead horde. Kestrel popped a single round into the pilot’s head and its arms fell slack across its body.
The noise of a pistol round impacting into the pilot’s head caused several of the creatures inside to turn toward him and he shot two when they tripped and fell forward into the pilot’s compartment. Several more of the creatures slid forward and he backpedaled, firing the entire time. He fired six additional rounds and five more creatures fell dead before he was out of targets.
He bent down and peered through the opening. Three pairs of legs stood inside the helicopter, so he popped one in the knee joint and it fell sideways onto the corpses of the zombies that the crewman had killed. Once he got a clear shot at the top of its head, he squeezed the trigger and black ichor poured out of the hole onto the pile of bodies. That made another creature turn toward him and it sank to its knees to crawl through the restrictive crew compartment. Kestrel shot that one as well.
The soldier’s 9-millimeter broke the relative silence with a high-pitched pop and the final zombie fell inside. “Hey, don’t shoot. I’m here to rescue you,” Kestrel called out softly.
“I can’t see. Is it safe for me to come off the helicopter?” a scared voice called back.
“As safe as it can be, man. Come on, we need to get out of here!”
“Umm, yeah. Okay.”
The helicopter rattled slightly as the crewmember positioned himself on the bottom edge of the doorway and jumped down to the ground. Kestrel rushed over and pulled him to his feet by his elbow. “Where’s the rest of the rescue crew?” the soldier asked glancing around worriedly.
“We’ve got a sniper in that building over there, but the two of us are it,” Kestrel replied to a blank stare from the crewman. He started walking quickly to where Campbell waited.
The rescued soldier shook himself from his stupor and followed along. “Wait a minute, you’re telling me that it’s just the three of us out here alone?” he asked.
“Yes,” Kestrel answered and then pointed at the 9-millimeter with the slide locked to the rear, which indicated it was empty. “You have any more ammo?”
The man shook his head. “No. I was saving that last round for myself until you showed up—thank you.”
“No worries, man. Here, take my pistol. Don’t fire it unless you absolutely have to though because those things are attracted to sound.”
“Shit. All I did was bring more of them?” the crewman asked.
“Nah, don’t worry about it. The big fucking helicopter crash made enough noise that they were coming anyways.” They’d arrived at the stairwell and he waved up at Campbell to come down.
The silenced rifle spurted one more time and then the agent rushed down the stairs. “Hey, Caleb Campbell, nice to meet you,” he said with his hand stuck out.
The crewman shook it and said, “Teddy Helms.”
“Oh shit, sorry. I’m Kestrel,” the operator said grasping the sergeant’s hand. “Alright, intros are done, let’s go, those things are still coming this way like flies to shit.”
They headed cautiously south along 5th Street back toward the Archives where Kestrel knew that there’d be a showdown with Allyson over his refusal to return.
*****
08 March, 1237 hrs local
Corner of 4th Street NW and G Street NW
Washington, DC
The creature surveyed the crash scene with what might be considered disgust in human terms. The smell of human blood had overpowered the followers ability to follow orders and hundreds of them were now gone. The leader had purposefully called most of its followers back from attacking the trapped humans when it heard the other helicopter circling overhead. This wasn’t the first time that the soldiers came into the city and it remembered the power of the helicopters. They’d attacked its followers before. It knew fighting against them where they could use the flying machines wouldn’t end well for its subjects. But it also knew that the day when it could unleash the followers upon the outside world was almost here.
It had planned with its brethren and it could now convince the master that the time had come. The followers were ready, but most of the remaining Chosen were content to survive behind the barrier as long as the humans left them alone. Now that the soldiers had returned to kill the followers who were locked away, the others had no reason to stay and could no longer use the excuse of staying hidden from the humans in order to survive.
Once night fell, it would call the others to its lair and ask them to travel to the master’s strange building. Together they would begin the work of convincing the master and together, they would work out how they would leave the cage. There had been other humans in the city that did not come by helicopter, so they must have found a way inside that the followers could use to get out.
