"Negative Sergeant, we have no available aircraft or pilots to come and pull you out. Over." The radio crackled quietly in Blackthorne's ear as he sat in the cockpit of the damaged helicopter. He slumped slightly, a heavy sigh escaping him as he resisted the urge to punch the console.
"So we're up shit creek without a paddle? Over." He glanced out the cockpit window at the remainder of his team who were sitting down and enjoying a quiet meal, it might be the last for some time.
"Affirmative." Came the response. "Be advised that multiple airstrikes have been ordered for the Los Angeles area and downtown core to try and hit the worst of the infestation."
Infestation. So that's what they were calling it now. Such an American solution, they were going to hit it with the biggest hammer they could find and hope for the best. Blackthorne felt slightly sick to his stomach as the voice on the radio continued.
"The situation is extremely hazardous. Command estimates that the FEMA camp you're in will be overrun in the next 6-8 hours. National guard units blocking the route have been wiped out."
Now Blackthorne did punch the console and regretted it immediately as pain shot up his arm and blood oozed from his knuckle. The three outside saw him do it and quickly climbed to their feet, making their way over towards the helicopter, meals still in hand. He took off the headset and turned up the volume so that they could all hear the next words as they came through.
"New orders from Command instruct you and your team to secure the Medical staff and get the hell out. Keep your SAT phone on hand and we'll contact you when we come up with a extraction package. Over."
"Bravo One roger, out."
"Best of luck Sergeant, god speed. Command out."
Blackthorne threw the headset into the cockpit and looked at his team. Three pairs of tired eyes looked back at him. Holloway spoke first, as Blackthorne knew he would.
"Seriously? Fuck Command man." He did a lisping mimic of the radio operator. "Don't call us, we'll call you sweetheart." He spat on the ground. "Sounds like the short of shit you tell a girl you never want to see again after you've fucked her." That got a few smiles.
"Agreed." Said Blackthorne. "But we need to get the fuck out of here and soon. I'm all for rounding up the medical staff and starting..." He was interrupted by a shout from the fence, turning briefly to see a band of civilians against the fence line, he ignored them. "Get them packed up and out of here stat."
The shouting increased and in irritation he turned to tell them to fuck off when he realized that he recognized them. He held up two fingers to his men indicating he wouldn't be long then jogged over to the fence.
"Do you know where Stephanie is?!" Asked the woman.
Blackthorne watched the refugees hurry away and turned to look at the ad-hoc FEMA medical unit. The fact that the girl Stephanie was still alive gave him a slight surge of elation. Another friendly face would be welcome. At least he knew she was somewhere nearby and she would accompany them if possible.
He returned to his teammates and gave them a brief synopsis of how the conversation had gone. They nodded slightly and Clarkson gave him a sly smile that, even that this moment, was in keeping with the rather dark sense of military humour they all knew so well.
"Cute bird, blue skirt, sounds like ye've got yerself a date for the end o' th' world Sarge." The man winked and Blackthorne actually laughed at the thought. Though, if he were honest with himself, she wasn't a bad looking woman if he remembered right.
Their conversation was cut short as a Medic came running towards them, waving his arms and yelling that one of the Doctors had locked himself into one of the medical units and was attacking his patients. In a heartbeat the whole team was in motion, sprinting in the direction of the mans frantic pointing, weapons swinging into firing position, silencers in place.
It was one of the smaller buildings, almost as far from the helipad as one could get, and two other male medical staff were trying to break down the door with a chair. Blackthorne shoved them aside with ease, eyed the door for two seconds and then, using Clarkson and Holloways shoulders for support, slammed his left heel into the door just above the lock.
The door shuddered but held. He swore, braced himself again and this time slammed both heels into the door. It flew open and he swept up his pistol as he stepped across the doorframe. He came face to face with a Walker wearing a doctors torn and bloodied lab coat at nearly point blank range, he fired without even thinking as he did it.
Then his eyes swept the room along with the flashlight on his pistol. It focused on a small huddled figure on the floor spattered in blood, holding a gory pair of scissors and squinting at him through filthy glasses. The other soldiers moved swiftly passed him, checking the remainder of the building. Two shots rang out in the back and Clarkson appeared from one of the last beds.
"Another one, still strapped to the bed but trying to rip itself free."
Blackthorne gave him the thumbs up and then knelt before a face that was familiar, even covered in blood and deathly pale from whatever illness had brought her to this place of death.
"Stephanie." He said her name gently and saw the recognition in her eyes. "I need to know if you were bitten."
There was the tiniest shake of her head.
"Are you certain?"
The small shake again. He laid a gloved hand on one knee and she started slightly, still clutching the scissors as she finally made eye contact with him. He could something in her eyes that hadn't been there the last time. A sort of haunted look and he couldn't blame her.
"We have to be sure. Someone will need to look you over."
A tiny nod. She resisted slightly as he took the scissors from her hands and threw them into a corner. Then he stooped and slipped a hand under her legs and behind her back, carrying her out into the fresh air. She clutched him about the neck as he carried her across the compound and into another building. The three male medical staff were there and he jerked his head towards the chem showers.
"Find me a female staff member. This girl needs a proper check up and a shower."
The three looked at him, then at each other, and then back again. "We're it sir." They clearly had no idea how military rank worked. "The rest have either fled, or, well, you saw it back there."
Blackthorne stared at them for a long moment and then sat Stephanie in a chair and turned back around to find the remainder of the team grinning at him like apes despite the situation. Clarkson was the first to speak.
"Permission ta volunteer fer this dangerous mission sah! Pon my soul, do me proud ta make sure this 'ere lassie is checked over proper."
The "lass" in question had sat upright and Blackthorne saw her lip twitch in a tiny smile at the Britishers words. She had spirit, they couldn't take that away from her but someone was going to have to check her over. Blackthorne knelt next to her again and saw that she had already recovered rather well mentally.
"Well Stephanie, I'm sorry, but one of us has got to look you over. The best I can do if offer you your choice of "physician"." He smiled as he said it and, not for the first time, had to admit that the girl had a hidden reserve of strength he didn't think possible.
"So we're up shit creek without a paddle? Over." He glanced out the cockpit window at the remainder of his team who were sitting down and enjoying a quiet meal, it might be the last for some time.
"Affirmative." Came the response. "Be advised that multiple airstrikes have been ordered for the Los Angeles area and downtown core to try and hit the worst of the infestation."
Infestation. So that's what they were calling it now. Such an American solution, they were going to hit it with the biggest hammer they could find and hope for the best. Blackthorne felt slightly sick to his stomach as the voice on the radio continued.
"The situation is extremely hazardous. Command estimates that the FEMA camp you're in will be overrun in the next 6-8 hours. National guard units blocking the route have been wiped out."
Now Blackthorne did punch the console and regretted it immediately as pain shot up his arm and blood oozed from his knuckle. The three outside saw him do it and quickly climbed to their feet, making their way over towards the helicopter, meals still in hand. He took off the headset and turned up the volume so that they could all hear the next words as they came through.
"New orders from Command instruct you and your team to secure the Medical staff and get the hell out. Keep your SAT phone on hand and we'll contact you when we come up with a extraction package. Over."
"Bravo One roger, out."
"Best of luck Sergeant, god speed. Command out."
Blackthorne threw the headset into the cockpit and looked at his team. Three pairs of tired eyes looked back at him. Holloway spoke first, as Blackthorne knew he would.
"Seriously? Fuck Command man." He did a lisping mimic of the radio operator. "Don't call us, we'll call you sweetheart." He spat on the ground. "Sounds like the short of shit you tell a girl you never want to see again after you've fucked her." That got a few smiles.
"Agreed." Said Blackthorne. "But we need to get the fuck out of here and soon. I'm all for rounding up the medical staff and starting..." He was interrupted by a shout from the fence, turning briefly to see a band of civilians against the fence line, he ignored them. "Get them packed up and out of here stat."
The shouting increased and in irritation he turned to tell them to fuck off when he realized that he recognized them. He held up two fingers to his men indicating he wouldn't be long then jogged over to the fence.
"Do you know where Stephanie is?!" Asked the woman.
* * * * * * * * *
Blackthorne watched the refugees hurry away and turned to look at the ad-hoc FEMA medical unit. The fact that the girl Stephanie was still alive gave him a slight surge of elation. Another friendly face would be welcome. At least he knew she was somewhere nearby and she would accompany them if possible.
He returned to his teammates and gave them a brief synopsis of how the conversation had gone. They nodded slightly and Clarkson gave him a sly smile that, even that this moment, was in keeping with the rather dark sense of military humour they all knew so well.
"Cute bird, blue skirt, sounds like ye've got yerself a date for the end o' th' world Sarge." The man winked and Blackthorne actually laughed at the thought. Though, if he were honest with himself, she wasn't a bad looking woman if he remembered right.
Their conversation was cut short as a Medic came running towards them, waving his arms and yelling that one of the Doctors had locked himself into one of the medical units and was attacking his patients. In a heartbeat the whole team was in motion, sprinting in the direction of the mans frantic pointing, weapons swinging into firing position, silencers in place.
It was one of the smaller buildings, almost as far from the helipad as one could get, and two other male medical staff were trying to break down the door with a chair. Blackthorne shoved them aside with ease, eyed the door for two seconds and then, using Clarkson and Holloways shoulders for support, slammed his left heel into the door just above the lock.
The door shuddered but held. He swore, braced himself again and this time slammed both heels into the door. It flew open and he swept up his pistol as he stepped across the doorframe. He came face to face with a Walker wearing a doctors torn and bloodied lab coat at nearly point blank range, he fired without even thinking as he did it.
Then his eyes swept the room along with the flashlight on his pistol. It focused on a small huddled figure on the floor spattered in blood, holding a gory pair of scissors and squinting at him through filthy glasses. The other soldiers moved swiftly passed him, checking the remainder of the building. Two shots rang out in the back and Clarkson appeared from one of the last beds.
"Another one, still strapped to the bed but trying to rip itself free."
Blackthorne gave him the thumbs up and then knelt before a face that was familiar, even covered in blood and deathly pale from whatever illness had brought her to this place of death.
"Stephanie." He said her name gently and saw the recognition in her eyes. "I need to know if you were bitten."
There was the tiniest shake of her head.
"Are you certain?"
The small shake again. He laid a gloved hand on one knee and she started slightly, still clutching the scissors as she finally made eye contact with him. He could something in her eyes that hadn't been there the last time. A sort of haunted look and he couldn't blame her.
"We have to be sure. Someone will need to look you over."
A tiny nod. She resisted slightly as he took the scissors from her hands and threw them into a corner. Then he stooped and slipped a hand under her legs and behind her back, carrying her out into the fresh air. She clutched him about the neck as he carried her across the compound and into another building. The three male medical staff were there and he jerked his head towards the chem showers.
"Find me a female staff member. This girl needs a proper check up and a shower."
The three looked at him, then at each other, and then back again. "We're it sir." They clearly had no idea how military rank worked. "The rest have either fled, or, well, you saw it back there."
Blackthorne stared at them for a long moment and then sat Stephanie in a chair and turned back around to find the remainder of the team grinning at him like apes despite the situation. Clarkson was the first to speak.
"Permission ta volunteer fer this dangerous mission sah! Pon my soul, do me proud ta make sure this 'ere lassie is checked over proper."
The "lass" in question had sat upright and Blackthorne saw her lip twitch in a tiny smile at the Britishers words. She had spirit, they couldn't take that away from her but someone was going to have to check her over. Blackthorne knelt next to her again and saw that she had already recovered rather well mentally.
"Well Stephanie, I'm sorry, but one of us has got to look you over. The best I can do if offer you your choice of "physician"." He smiled as he said it and, not for the first time, had to admit that the girl had a hidden reserve of strength he didn't think possible.