slash maraud
Times
Journalist
Registered:
12-2006
Location:
West Coast US
Posts:
157
Helpfulness-Gauge
2 (+2/-0)
|
|
Reply | Quote
|
|
Combat Jump Part 7
Title: Combat Jump
Author: Slash Maraud
Rating: 18+
Disclaimer: None.
Summary: A short story that is within the Up From the Depths Universe. It takes place during the first week of the Zombie Infection. To get a chronological timeline to the Up From the Depths story, this event would have happened during the Claggett’s test of new deployment methods for SOF units. It does not contain any of the characters from UPFTD. There is some violence and language as expected in these circumstances.
__________________________________________
Brooks hustled over to Kemp’s gear and pulled out two more drums. He retrieved the SAW and quickly loaded up. Then he dragged a sandbag over to prop his gun’s bipod against. The doorway was twenty-five feet directly in front of him. Brooks took a deep breath.
Sikorski and Adams took up positions over either of Brooks’ shoulders. They were each armed with M-203s (M-16 rifles with 40 mm grenade launchers under the barrel).
Ski glanced to Adams. “Got buckshot loaded?”
“Yeah.” A distinct rumbling was now coming from the stairwell.
“Bones, grab the radio, get on the fire escape with it! On my mark, guys…”
Suddenly Brooks felt words coming out of his mouth, words he hadn’t thought of in years, words his pappy had caused him to memorize a dozen years earlier.
“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul…”
A loud bang against the door made them all jump. “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me. Your rod and your staff…”
“Save it Ronnie. I want you listening to me, ‘kay? Shoot low, make a pile in the door.”
Incessant moaning and pounding filled their world. A slight bulge in the middle of the door quickly began to grow. A head with a fierce look strained past the bulge.
“I got him guys. Hold fire.” Steve’s finger moved from the launcher trigger to the rifle trigger. A slight squeeze blasted zip brains against the door facing.
For thirty more seconds, the door held. Then, instantly, it came down with a crash. A mob rushed from the stairs.
“Ronnie, do it!” The SAW erupted for the second time that morning, shattering knees and tibia. Other zips were scrambling to get past their fallen kin. The SAW ran dry.
“Go, Brooks, now Jeff!” Adams’ canister round boomed, tearing zombies with hundreds of stainless steel balls. “Go!”
The three of them were scuttling for the fire escape, Ski going backwards, covering his men with short burst of auto fire. When he reached the top of the fire escape, he fired his buckshot round at the closest zip, blowing it in half and taking out the one behind. He hurried down the stairs to the third floor landing where the other three were waiting.
Zips began pouring over the lip of the building. Bones worked his clacker.
The Claymore mine placed on the top floor landing at an angle hammered the chasing zips, disintegrating a crowd of them.
Adams kicked open the fire escape door, Brooks entered with the SAW reloaded and ready. Two zombies came charging down the hall; machine gun fire riddled their legs, they fell. As they tried to scramble up to continue their attack, they were met with rifle butts bashing their skulls in.
Tango 3 found what they wanted about halfway down the hall on the front side of the building: an unlocked office. The men quickly went in, turned a deadbolt, and began shoving bookcases against the door. A thorough search of the lawyer’s offices revealed no undead occupants, though their handiwork was apparent. A wide trail of blood and gore down a hallway leading away from the main office looked like the trail of a ghastly slug.
Subsequently, different types of searches revealed more pleasant findings. The lawyer had been a fiend for chocolate. Several dozen various brands of candy bars were found undisturbed. A water cooler still had several gallons of relatively fresh water. The sofas were infinitely more comfortable than the gravel covered rooftop.
An hour later, the men were wound down.
Finally, Ski spoke. “Brooks, get on the horn. Tell Oscar 10 we’re still here. Still wanna get picked up. Then I want you to tell me that thing you said your granddad had you memorize.”
Major Reynolds was making the rounds of the company. He stopped at the 3rd platoon site and motioned to Lt. Smith.
“Chris, your men are going to Valley 3 today at 1300, correct?”
“Yes, sir. The men will do well. They’ll do their duty, major.”
“Oh yeah, I know that. But I want you to get your feet wet first. Pick three top men and come with me.”
Chris saw they were walking toward the helicopter staging area. He had to force the panic away from his voice.
“Uh, Major Reynolds, are we to be a Lima team? A Tango team?”
“Oh, no. Sorry. Should have made that clear, Lieutenant. Our aircrews are so zapped we need some other men to fill in. Ride shotgun, so to speak. You guys are gonna help this Romeo unit rescue the last Tango out there. Tango 3.”
He clapped Smith on the shoulder. “You get to be a hero on your first mission! Just hang on and do what the pilot says.”
There was only the two pilots flying the Black Hawk. The flight engineer was getting some ordered rest. The senior pilot explained what was needed from Chris’ team.
“Just provide fire support when needed. Your gunner can handle the mini- gun. The winch and ropes are already set, so you all can probably help out there as well.”
The flight over the dead city was uneventful. In just a few minutes, they were over a building that had an orange smoke cloud floating up from in front of it. The men waving from the third floor were easy to spot. So were the zombies roaming the roof. Only a few of them were still there, three hours after the battle. The mini-gun quickly disposed of them.
The rope was lowered and lifted four times. Chris looked over the men as they were brought in. He examined the rooftop. He wondered how he would have performed in their situation. The last soldier out was a large blonde man sporting a huge smile. As he settled in onboard, Sikorski held out a bag to his rescuers.
“Anybody want a candy bar?”
Chris rode back to Lower Manhattan in the flight engineers seat between and slightly behind the pilots. He was eating a Mr. Goodbar, one pilot a Milky Way, the other a Twix.
There had been no more Snickers.
The pilot’s head came up. “This is Romeo 15, go ahead.” A short time passed. “Affirmative. I copy. Let me drop my load and get my other crew.” A pause. “Roger. ETA is twenty-five minutes. Romeo 15 out.”
The pilot sighed heavily and kept looking straight ahead. He took another bite and began chewing. Chris couldn’t stand the silence.
A minute later he blurted, “ So what’s the problem?”
Tired eyes flicked toward Chris. “La Guardia just fell. I gotta go help pick up survivors. Holding New York just got a lot harder.”
Copyright 2007 Slash Maraud
|
|
Mar/24/2007, 6:25 am
|
|
Powered by AkBBS 0.9.5b - Link to us
- Blogs
- Hall of Honour
- Chat
Click here to get your own free message board
|
****Copyright 2004-2007****
All stories, articles, pictures and posts on this site are the copyright of the author (unless stated otherwise). If you wish to reuse any material that falls under the aforementioned categories, and reuse away from the forum/website, please seek written permission from the author beforehand. By agreeing to post your stories, articles, pictures and general writings on this forum, you agree that FWU Forum can showcase your stories, poems, articles, pictures and posts on its website/forum indefinitely.
|
|
