Blackthorne was shaken gently from the deepest sleep he had ever experienced by the young medic who had talked to him on the helicopter. She smiled at him the red glow of the cabins light and jerked her thumb quietly towards the doorway.
"Sorry to wake you Sergeant," She whispered. " But you've been requested on the bridge asap."
He nodded and swung his feet over the edge of the bunk. To his surprise she knelt quickly and slipped on his boots before handing him the new fatigue jacket he had been given. He pushed his arms through the sleeves, aware of the snores of the men who were still passed out around him. He looked from them to the medic and raised an eyebrow, she shook her head. They stepped quietly out into the passage way and she closed the door behind them, speaking in a low voice as they made their way down the passage.
"You've been out for the last six hours. I refused to let them wake you until you'd had at least a couple hours to yourselves. You guys have been through hell." She turned to smile at him as she said it. "I thought you could use it before your next tasking."
"Which is?" He asked but she shook her head and he sighed to himself, he was sure he didn't want any part of whatever it was they had in mind for him and his team.
Several ladders and they climbed into the operations room of the Cruiser. There was a small collection of officers present, certainly not the full compliment but enough to run the ship, for the time being at least. They all nodded towards him as he appeared and none objected when he didn't bother saluting.
"Welcome back to the land of the living Sergeant." Said Lieutenant Georges. "How're you feeling?'
"Like shit." Blackthorne said simply.
"I suppose I deserved that." A smile twitched at the corners of Georges mouth. "Let's get right into it then. It has been made clear to us that your team is the only combat effective unit not already actively involved in trying to contain this thing. Even as we speak, National Guard units are closing in on Los Angeles and the Airforce and Marines are going to begin bombing runs within the next two minutes. Hopefully we can take out the largest concentrations, mostly around hospitals and..."
"What?" The officer was cut off by Blackthornes question. "You told us we wouldn't be rescuing those people until more resources were into place."
Georges looked at his feet for a moment and then back up at Blackthorne. "Command decided that those people would remain in place as bait to keep the undead concentrated for aerial strikes."
"Of course they fucking did..." Blackthorne said, wishing at that moment that he could lie back down and die. The faces of those people on the roofs as the helicopter roared by were bad enough but the knowledge that they had been deliberately left there to die made him sick.
"It's a slim chance." Said another officer. "You may have been asleep for this Sergeant, but things have gotten a whole lot worse."
He gestured to footage of New York taken from a drone circling above. It showed a street level battle between the Walkers and a motley collection of soldier, police and civilians. The Walkers took the day swiftly enough, slouching and surging their way through the streets and out into the suburbs.
"So far it is confirmed that over half the eastern seaboard is lost." He tapped a keypad and, just like in every Hollywood movie ever, a screen zoomed out to show the bulk of the United States showing in light grey. "In fact much of the country is being over run. The world isn't much better off."
Another click and it zoomed out further, the world slowly spinning to reveal just what was going on. Everywhere it panned there was grey, or in some cases black and he didn't need those zones explained to him.
"The government is doing its best to save what it can and we've been tasked with providing security to the FEMA camp just outside LA. I've already dispatched half my Marines. You and yours are being sent in to retrieve the medical team. I'm sorry Sergeant, but you're back into it."
Blackthorne nodded and stretched his back, towering over the assembled officers by a good six inches. He gave a humourless laugh and then glanced at the map that was still showing a slowly revolving world.
"Guess you'd better put us back into the game coach."
An hour later the SeaHawk helicopter was back in the air again and roaring towards the mainland, now roughly 25 kilometres away. Holloway was back at the controls and Blackthorne was in the co-pilots seat next to him. Bishop and Clarkson were seated on either side, the doors had been removed so they could quickly get in and out of the helicopter.
"Heads up." Clarksons voice seemed loud in the headphones. "Fighters bombers at 2 o'clock."
Blackthorne peered up through the windscreen to see a dozen aircraft racing towards Los Angeles. He knew that they had come from an aircraft carrier somewhere off the coast but wasn't sure exactly where. The sleek grey aircraft shot passed them in seconds and towards the downtown core of the city.
It was more than five kilometres to the city but Blackthorne didn't need binoculars to tell him the bombs had hit as fresh flashes lit the sky and more smoke was pumped into the already hazy blue sky. There was something else, beyond the city to the north, a massive wall of flame and smoke was advancing slowly south and he pointed it out to Holloway.
"Forest fires."
"We're lucky there aren't more of them." Holloway responded as he gazed towards the fire. "The camp is a ways from the city and might be okay yet but I imagine they will have to do something about fighting that blaze or it will become a real problem."
Nothing else was said as the aircraft passed from the ocean and over solid ground. They were more than a few hundred feet high and Blackthorne could see Walkers staggering amongst the trees, along roadways, and much more. As they roared over the Highway 57 he was shocked to see thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, of Walkers shuffling slowly along the roadway, drawn onwards by the gunfire of a National Guard unit that had blocked a narrow choke point. They had blown up the buildings around them to force the Walkers towards them.
"Brave, brave bastards." Holloway muttered. "They must have no idea what they're up against."
Not that it mattered, half a kilometre later a second swarm was eating it's way up the stalled rows of cars. There wasn't even a smartass saying to be heard amongst the entire team as they stared down at the chaos. Each of them knew that it could easily be them down there and none of them wanted to tempt fate by voicing the thoughts aloud.
"There is it." Holloway said at last and they all craned their necks as the FEMA camp sprang into view. It was poorly placed, that was evident at once, and straddling the main highway so it was only a matter of time before the swarms reached it. The mass of humanity below was packed into numerous tents and temporary shelters. One series of buildings, more organized than the rest and protected by fence, was painted with large red crosses on the roof. Blackthorne pointed towards it.
"Set us down there Holloway, on the pad by the largest shack. We want to be ready to pull out at a moments notice."
No one spoke as they set down on the ground. Curious faces pressed against the fence, staring at them, a few of the children even waved. Blackthorne couldn't bring himself to respond. In a matter of days, perhaps hours, most of these people would be dead. He looked around at the rest of his team and saw his own feelings mirrored in their expressions. It took a certain type of man to do the job they did but none of them had to like it.
"Holloway, Bishop, stay put. Clarkson on me."
The two men took off at a quick jog towards the nearest building. The gate into the small compound was visible nearby and the two Marines who stood guard over it offered them tired salutes. Blackthorne returned the gesture as he took the steps in a single bound, pushing open the door to find himself confronted by a cheerless and poorly lit pre-fab hospital.
"What the fuck, looks like something out of Afghanistan." Clarkson said as he joined the Sergeant inside the doorway. They only had time for a brief first impression before a doctor hurried towards them, his hands and coat covered in blood.
"What can I do fer you boys?" He asked in a typically midwestern drawl.
"Sergeant Blackthorne, we're here to evacuate you and your people, now if you please."
"Evacuate? Why?" The Doctor asked, surprise plastered across his face. "I thought more troops were on the way!'
"Yea, we're them, now let's go." Blackthorne interrupted. "I was told it was you and six others. Round them up and lets go."
The words were no sooner out of this mouth than the sound of screams began outside. In an instant he and Clarkson had knelt next to the doorframe. Gunfire sounded nearby and then suddenly died away again. The doctor behind them hadn't even moved.
"Small outbreaks have been happening all around. They get put down quickly enough."
Blackthorne was going to repeat his insistence that the doctor join him when Holloway came jogging up, Bishop close behind, both men looked grim. Blackthornes heart sank as he looked at their faces and then towards the helicopter. There was no mistaking the pool of liquid that was spreading down the side of the chopper and dripping onto the concrete below.
"Hydraulic lines been hit, start bullet from the shooting." Said Holloway.
"Well fuck."
"Sorry to wake you Sergeant," She whispered. " But you've been requested on the bridge asap."
He nodded and swung his feet over the edge of the bunk. To his surprise she knelt quickly and slipped on his boots before handing him the new fatigue jacket he had been given. He pushed his arms through the sleeves, aware of the snores of the men who were still passed out around him. He looked from them to the medic and raised an eyebrow, she shook her head. They stepped quietly out into the passage way and she closed the door behind them, speaking in a low voice as they made their way down the passage.
"You've been out for the last six hours. I refused to let them wake you until you'd had at least a couple hours to yourselves. You guys have been through hell." She turned to smile at him as she said it. "I thought you could use it before your next tasking."
"Which is?" He asked but she shook her head and he sighed to himself, he was sure he didn't want any part of whatever it was they had in mind for him and his team.
Several ladders and they climbed into the operations room of the Cruiser. There was a small collection of officers present, certainly not the full compliment but enough to run the ship, for the time being at least. They all nodded towards him as he appeared and none objected when he didn't bother saluting.
"Welcome back to the land of the living Sergeant." Said Lieutenant Georges. "How're you feeling?'
"Like shit." Blackthorne said simply.
"I suppose I deserved that." A smile twitched at the corners of Georges mouth. "Let's get right into it then. It has been made clear to us that your team is the only combat effective unit not already actively involved in trying to contain this thing. Even as we speak, National Guard units are closing in on Los Angeles and the Airforce and Marines are going to begin bombing runs within the next two minutes. Hopefully we can take out the largest concentrations, mostly around hospitals and..."
"What?" The officer was cut off by Blackthornes question. "You told us we wouldn't be rescuing those people until more resources were into place."
Georges looked at his feet for a moment and then back up at Blackthorne. "Command decided that those people would remain in place as bait to keep the undead concentrated for aerial strikes."
"Of course they fucking did..." Blackthorne said, wishing at that moment that he could lie back down and die. The faces of those people on the roofs as the helicopter roared by were bad enough but the knowledge that they had been deliberately left there to die made him sick.
"It's a slim chance." Said another officer. "You may have been asleep for this Sergeant, but things have gotten a whole lot worse."
He gestured to footage of New York taken from a drone circling above. It showed a street level battle between the Walkers and a motley collection of soldier, police and civilians. The Walkers took the day swiftly enough, slouching and surging their way through the streets and out into the suburbs.
"So far it is confirmed that over half the eastern seaboard is lost." He tapped a keypad and, just like in every Hollywood movie ever, a screen zoomed out to show the bulk of the United States showing in light grey. "In fact much of the country is being over run. The world isn't much better off."
Another click and it zoomed out further, the world slowly spinning to reveal just what was going on. Everywhere it panned there was grey, or in some cases black and he didn't need those zones explained to him.
"The government is doing its best to save what it can and we've been tasked with providing security to the FEMA camp just outside LA. I've already dispatched half my Marines. You and yours are being sent in to retrieve the medical team. I'm sorry Sergeant, but you're back into it."
Blackthorne nodded and stretched his back, towering over the assembled officers by a good six inches. He gave a humourless laugh and then glanced at the map that was still showing a slowly revolving world.
"Guess you'd better put us back into the game coach."
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
An hour later the SeaHawk helicopter was back in the air again and roaring towards the mainland, now roughly 25 kilometres away. Holloway was back at the controls and Blackthorne was in the co-pilots seat next to him. Bishop and Clarkson were seated on either side, the doors had been removed so they could quickly get in and out of the helicopter.
"Heads up." Clarksons voice seemed loud in the headphones. "Fighters bombers at 2 o'clock."
Blackthorne peered up through the windscreen to see a dozen aircraft racing towards Los Angeles. He knew that they had come from an aircraft carrier somewhere off the coast but wasn't sure exactly where. The sleek grey aircraft shot passed them in seconds and towards the downtown core of the city.
It was more than five kilometres to the city but Blackthorne didn't need binoculars to tell him the bombs had hit as fresh flashes lit the sky and more smoke was pumped into the already hazy blue sky. There was something else, beyond the city to the north, a massive wall of flame and smoke was advancing slowly south and he pointed it out to Holloway.
"Forest fires."
"We're lucky there aren't more of them." Holloway responded as he gazed towards the fire. "The camp is a ways from the city and might be okay yet but I imagine they will have to do something about fighting that blaze or it will become a real problem."
Nothing else was said as the aircraft passed from the ocean and over solid ground. They were more than a few hundred feet high and Blackthorne could see Walkers staggering amongst the trees, along roadways, and much more. As they roared over the Highway 57 he was shocked to see thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, of Walkers shuffling slowly along the roadway, drawn onwards by the gunfire of a National Guard unit that had blocked a narrow choke point. They had blown up the buildings around them to force the Walkers towards them.
"Brave, brave bastards." Holloway muttered. "They must have no idea what they're up against."
Not that it mattered, half a kilometre later a second swarm was eating it's way up the stalled rows of cars. There wasn't even a smartass saying to be heard amongst the entire team as they stared down at the chaos. Each of them knew that it could easily be them down there and none of them wanted to tempt fate by voicing the thoughts aloud.
"There is it." Holloway said at last and they all craned their necks as the FEMA camp sprang into view. It was poorly placed, that was evident at once, and straddling the main highway so it was only a matter of time before the swarms reached it. The mass of humanity below was packed into numerous tents and temporary shelters. One series of buildings, more organized than the rest and protected by fence, was painted with large red crosses on the roof. Blackthorne pointed towards it.
"Set us down there Holloway, on the pad by the largest shack. We want to be ready to pull out at a moments notice."
No one spoke as they set down on the ground. Curious faces pressed against the fence, staring at them, a few of the children even waved. Blackthorne couldn't bring himself to respond. In a matter of days, perhaps hours, most of these people would be dead. He looked around at the rest of his team and saw his own feelings mirrored in their expressions. It took a certain type of man to do the job they did but none of them had to like it.
"Holloway, Bishop, stay put. Clarkson on me."
The two men took off at a quick jog towards the nearest building. The gate into the small compound was visible nearby and the two Marines who stood guard over it offered them tired salutes. Blackthorne returned the gesture as he took the steps in a single bound, pushing open the door to find himself confronted by a cheerless and poorly lit pre-fab hospital.
"What the fuck, looks like something out of Afghanistan." Clarkson said as he joined the Sergeant inside the doorway. They only had time for a brief first impression before a doctor hurried towards them, his hands and coat covered in blood.
"What can I do fer you boys?" He asked in a typically midwestern drawl.
"Sergeant Blackthorne, we're here to evacuate you and your people, now if you please."
"Evacuate? Why?" The Doctor asked, surprise plastered across his face. "I thought more troops were on the way!'
"Yea, we're them, now let's go." Blackthorne interrupted. "I was told it was you and six others. Round them up and lets go."
The words were no sooner out of this mouth than the sound of screams began outside. In an instant he and Clarkson had knelt next to the doorframe. Gunfire sounded nearby and then suddenly died away again. The doctor behind them hadn't even moved.
"Small outbreaks have been happening all around. They get put down quickly enough."
Blackthorne was going to repeat his insistence that the doctor join him when Holloway came jogging up, Bishop close behind, both men looked grim. Blackthornes heart sank as he looked at their faces and then towards the helicopter. There was no mistaking the pool of liquid that was spreading down the side of the chopper and dripping onto the concrete below.
"Hydraulic lines been hit, start bullet from the shooting." Said Holloway.
"Well fuck."