Zombie Airman Read online

  Caleb held back from laughing or saying anything when he saw the dark stain on his buddy’s pants. “Get me to the door.” The MSgt now had his CAC out and slid it through a card reader before typing in 7321on the number pad. There was a loud click as the bolt retracted. The man seemed steadier as he held the door open for the other two. He dropped into a chair, then pointed to the first aid kit on the wall. Opening the kit, he took out a pair of scissors. “How bad is it out there, fellas?” He asked as he began to work on himself.

  “Looks like the end of the world. We came over here to get guns and supplies. The new commander of Space Command ordered the withdrawal from the base. I’m guessing, wheels up a little after 0400.” Caleb replied looking down an aisle that went the length of the entire room. He was not sure where to look, expecting to see the walls covered in weapons. Instead, both sides of the aisle were solid gray covered in charts and signing boards, and black handles.

  Grabbing the tablet from the desk, making sure the two airmen were not watching, he pulled up his email. The most current was from AFSPC/HQ. He began to feel sickly, his worst thoughts confirmed. He then opened up the 21 SF/CATM email, the same email was at the top of the queue. There was nothing from inside the squadron giving any guidance or orders. He reached over, picked up the desk phone and selected the ‘Command Post’ button. He was about to hang up when an out of breath voice answered. “SrA Wade. How may I help you?” MSgt Conrad was mildly relieved with getting through on the phone.

  “MSgt Conrad, Armory. I’m calling to confirm orders to evacuate the base. I haven’t been able to reach anyone in my chain of command.”

  “Orders have been validated. MOC (maintenance operations center) informed me they will have one transient C-17C and one C-130J they have declared MR (mission ready) on the ramp in front of the passenger terminal. I need your help, MSgt Conrad. I’m the last one alive here. Those creatures are trapped at the inside entrance to the command post. I can’t get out of here.”

  Conrad felt like he’d just been belted in the stomach. “If we can get to you, we will.” He quickly hung up before the young girl in the command post could ask anything else of him. How the hell did a girl survive this crap?

  “You boys have a shopping list? Or just grabbing what you can?” The SNCO gasped as he dabbed into his wound, pulling out part of his uniform.

  “What would you recommend MSgt…”

  “I’m Conrad, MSgt Bryan Conrad. There’re four cases of M4s in locker sixteen. Just spin the black handle and you’ll see it opens to shelves inside. Can’t miss them, they’re green, forty-five inches tall, twenty-six inches wide. There’s three bins next to them full of loose thirty round mags, about three hundred in each. Be care when you turn the wheel, if you open that locker and someone is in another locker you could crush them. In locker twelve there’s ten green cases, each has ten M17 Sig Sauers, and twenty magazines. In locker fourteen is the 5.56 ammo. Make sure the stencil says ‘5.56.’ In locker ten, you’ll find the 9mm ammo. In the next room, there’s a couple carts you can use. Look on the wall there, tell me if there’s a set of keys hanging above the light switch.”

  “MSgt Conrad, there is a set of keys hanging above the light switch.” Asher shouted, maneuvering the huge cart through the doorway.

  Conrad finished bandaging his thigh and looked down on the floor. He stared at the body of his friend and boss of six years, and then forced himself to his feet, to get away from the body. Heading to locker three, on the left side of the hallway, he noticed the two kids, all airmen were kids to him, were on the right side of the hallway, loading the cart. He spun the wheel on the front of locker three and watched all eight huge lockers move until they could go no further. He pressed the wheel lock on the wheel that would keep the lockers from moving. Inside the locker, three long hanging bars went down the length of the locker. Four dozen sets of body armor hung from their hangars. He grabbed his own, dropped it down over his shoulders then wrapped the hook and loop fasteners from the back half across his waist before adjusting the hook and loop fasteners on each side. He grabbed two sets and carried them to the kids, busy at work.

  The two kids already had the cart piled high with the weapon mobility bins, raising his respect for the two. “Here you go guys, don’t ever say I never gave you anything.

  Both airmen replied, “Cool” in unison.

  Conrad fought back the urge to laugh. He’d anticipated their reply. “Drop the armor over your shoulders. It should look the same as mine for the way it fits. He grabbed Caleb by his body armor and lifted it slightly, “Hold it like that for a moment.” Conrad pulled the hook and loop fastener apart that was over Caleb’s left the shoulder then adjusted it tight. He repeated the same on the right shoulder. “Lift the front side up, now bring the long hook and loop fasteners from the back panel, just like a belt around your waist, you don’t want it too tight. Now adjust the side hook and loop fasteners. Now follow me.”

  Conrad returned to the weapons issue window. He bent forward and opened the top drawer of a tool cabinet, inside were hundreds of thirty round magazines. Pulling out three in one hand, he moved to face Asher, moved the small cords aside and stuck each magazine into its own pouch on the center of his chest, then adjusted the cord to hold each one in place. He then reached over to the next tool cabinet opening the top drawer and pulled out a pair of 9mm Sig Sauer 21 round magazines. “I’ll let you stick these in their pouch yourself Asher, I have confidence in you.” He then grabbed another pair of 9mm magazines and handed them to Caleb before handing him three M4 magazines. Conrad then picked up a pair of radios from a bank of radio chargers. “Slip these into the radio pockets. Don’t turn them on until we leave the building. Now get back to work.”

  Each of the tool chests by the weapons issue window was 36X36X36 with three locking drawers. Conrad reached down in front of the units and picked up his old friend by the collar of his body armor. He then unceremoniously dragged the body to the entrance so he’d be out of the way. Squatting down, trying to avoid getting any more blood on him, he released the wheel locks that kept the units from moving. Making sure each door was fully closed he turned the key to lock them in place before dropping the key into the plastic envelope taped to the side of the unit, He then effortlessly rolled the five hundred pound unit towards the rear of the armory. Both airmen looked up at him as he passed; not understanding what he was up to. Two trips later, his three units sat by the door along with a cartload of mobility boxes the boys had collected.

  “Okay guys, now we still have one empty left, let’s fill it up, but first you both still need holsters.” They both followed him to locker three. He reached up on the shelf over the top bar that held the body armor, pulling down two black belts with dropped holsters. “Take off the extra pockets on those and put a couple more 9mm pouches on them. Leave the baton holster on too.” He pointed to the pouches on a shelf behind them. He reached into a green A3 bag, pulling out two batons. “If those creatures get too close to you and you’re on empty, don’t pull any Hollywood shit like throwing your weapon at them. You will HOLSTER IT, if you can’t reload, and then use the baton to get yourself out of trouble. That reminds me, DO NOT throw away any empty magazines, unless you can pull new ones out your backside.

  “Asher, get me the other cart from the office, Caleb with me.” Conrad pushed in the pin to the locker’s wheel before walking down to locker five, then pulling the pin there before spinning it open. Inside were more green mobility containers. Conrad opened the first one by turning two keys, then flipping the top up. He reached in and pulled out a short barreled M4. “This is an M4A1, similar to the ones used by special operators, and secret squirrels. This will be a hell of a lot more useful than a full size M4. This has only a ten-inch long barrel. There is no iron sight. Here is the red dot you will use to aim at your targets. There is the button to turn the dot on and off, do not leave it on or the battery will die, then you will die. I’m saving the best for last. This weapon is fully aut
omatic, not ‘full-semi-automatic’ as some retired army general once told the gun-grabbing press at one time. The selector is safe, semi, and auto. Do not hold down the trigger then spray and pray. Forget about automatic entirely. You’ll know when it’s time.” He pointed to the open square optic on the back of the carbine and showed where the power button is. “You’ll use the red dot to find your target. Be sure to turn it off when you don’t need it, unless you can produce batteries from your backside. Here, let me show you how to wear the three point sling.”

  Asher and Caleb took a moment to catch their breath as Conrad looked over everything they had piled by the door. He disappeared into the office and came out carrying keys. “Okay gentlemen, playtime is over and things are going to get real, real fast…again. I want you each to make sure you have full magazines in your M17s. Next, neither of you have put a magazine in your carbine yet.” Plopping down onto a box, he made little grunt of pain. “Guys, go back to locker three and grab three black range bags; they’re a little bigger than a gym bag and have shoulder straps. Take them to locker seven and grab a dozen 30 round mags and a dozen 9mm mags for each of the bags, plus two 9mm mags for your belt. Locker eight has boxes of loose ammo, ignore the green tags on them that say they are unserviceable; my guys and me were going to use that for practice. When you’re both ready, we’ll load my one ton and proceed to transportation.” Both airmen acknowledged the SNCO, and loaded their magazines as quickly as they could, only stopping once when they heard Conrad snoring.

  “Damn old fucks always do the double standard when there’s work to be done.” Asher angrily whispered to Caleb.

  “Dude, the guy’s old enough to be our dad and he took a fucking bullet on top of that! I’m surprised the old shit hasn’t passed over to the other side.” Caleb replied defensively, trying to whisper. “Take a look at his leg, he’s bleeding out.”

  “Ain’t it amazing? Gents, I spend over twenty-two years on firing ranges, shooting every damn weapon in the inventory, and I can still hear the two of you whining like a couple of old ladies. Are you ready to go?” Asher lost all color in his face and Caleb broke out laughing, slinging one bag over his shoulder and carrying the other to the MSgt. Asher quietly talked to himself, pulling up the rear.

  “Here’s the plan guys, the monitor above the door is showing everything is clear. I’ll go first, and give a quick recce. Then the two of you will follow me out. Be sure to block the door with the stone that’s outside by it. Then, I’ll provide security as you both wheel out the tool cabinets and push them on the lift. Then we’ll push all three of them against the cab and lock them in place. The rest of the gear we’ll stack against the tool cabinets, then flip the carts over in case we need them to unload the truck. I don’t want them rolling around. Then we’ll head for transportation and see if we can get a bus. I’ll drive, Caleb, you ride shotgun. Asher, you get to ride on top and keep an eye out for zombies. Once we close that armory door we aren’t coming back.” Conrad donned his red combat arms hat and reached for the door.

  “Scuse me a sec, guys.” Caleb sprinted to the front of the armory and turned the corner out of sight. A loud retching sound carried across the room. Neither man said a word or made a joke when he returned, they also missed that he had fresh blood on his OCPs.

  With one last look at the monitor, Conrad burst through the door. “Clear, move your asses.” He painfully limped to the truck and then unpinned the back gate, before unfolding the gate flat. He held down the button to lowering the tailgate. The squeal of it lowering set everyone’s nerves on end. Asher and Caleb almost sprinted with the tool cabinet before them. They shoved it on the tailgate and stood next to it as they rose up. They pushed the tool cabinet to the truck cab and were trying to push the little wheel lock into place when they saw the MSgt walking to intercept an infected running towards them. He pulled what appeared to be a little wand from his belt then flicked his wrist. The wand telescoped out about thirty-six inches just in time for Conrad to duck past the infected and snap the wand hard against the back of his neck with all his strength, quickly dropping it. He looked back at the guys and fought off the urge to grin.

  “Why don’t you guys have the next cabinet ready to load? You need me to hold your hands?” Both airmen jumped down from the truck and bolted for the armory door as Conrad maintained his vigil.

  Fifteen minutes later, the truck was loaded. Caleb shook Asher’s hand, then sprinted around the corner, leaving the two watching him go. “Don’t look at me MSgt Conrad, he didn’t tell me he was going to bail on us.” Conrad angrily fired up the truck the in time to see a huge red F350 pickup speed past them. Caleb waved as his music echoed from all the buildings around them.

  “He loves that truck. I just hope he doesn’t die for it.”

  Caleb turned off his music as he slowed down by the dorms. He could see there was a lot of activity and he began to have second thoughts. A head popped out of a third floor window, screaming. It would have to be the damn third floor. He drove over the curb and parked on the grass at the end of the dorm where the stairs were. The trees and bushes providing him cover. The same damn trees and bushes I’ve had to trim and rake up how damn many times when I’ve had the damn dorm duty! Shifting the truck in park, he set the brake and grabbed the keys, before jumping down to the ground. Four infected immediately charged at him from bushes to his left. Less than fifteen feet away, he thumbed the carbine to semi and fired into each of the infected, like it was a game. He turned to his right, reaching for the stairway door and froze for a second. Dropping his carbine so it’d hang he pulled out the M17 from its holster, checked the safety, then pushed the thumb tab down on the door handle, slowly opening it when instead it burst open. A young, beautiful, tall, thin blonde with small perky breasts wearing only a little pink thong stood barely more than a foot away, staring at Caleb for a second then shrieked baring her teeth as she charged the short distance towards him. Caleb got off three rapid shots, all three in the chest, before he was knocked down as the infected woman veered to the right, falling dead from her wounds. He lay there for a moment in shock and relief, wondering how things would have been different if he’d been able to rescue her instead of killing her. Caleb got back on his shaky legs and looked down on the young girl, her face seemed angelic. Disgusted he took two steps towards the truck, not wanting anything else to do with playing hero, then he heard the screaming from the third floor again.

  “Shut the hell up! You, on the third floor! You’re attracting the fucking zombies!” Caleb shouted, feeling his resolve coming back to him. He reopened the stairwell door, then ran up the stairs, taking two steps at a time. At the third floor, he wiped the sweat off his face, then opened the door. The door opened to an exterior walkway that surrounded the entire third floor. He looked down towards the front lawn and heard more shrieking as mobs of zombies seemed to be running everywhere. He slowly walked down the walkway pounding ‘shave and a haircut’ on each door. Some answered with shrieks as the infected occupants beat back on the door unable to get out. A window behind him shattered, the infected, a young short black man began to crawl through, a jagged piece of glass, disemboweling himself as he crawled forward. Caleb took a quick look around, then withdrew the baton on his belt and smashed it into the back of the infected’s exposed neck. The infected just slumped over quietly. Caleb redoubled his efforts, moving faster door to door when the door he’d just knocked on opened and a short black-haired A1C rushed out towards him.

  “Oh, thank God” she blurted out as she wrapped her arms around him in a hug, then quickly withdrew when she felt the blood soak into her uniform top. She looked up at him with questioning eyes, then bent over and puked. Two infected turned the corner at the end of the floor and began to race towards the pair. Caleb brought up the automatic in one hand while holding the girl to him. She jumped in surprise, hitting him in the jaw as he fired on the attackers. The first attacker went down with a new third eye in his forehead. The girl’s movements and wiggli
ng kept interfering with his shots. At only five feet, he was able to hit the attacker in the neck; it twisted from the impact, then fell over the handrail, trying to shriek but only managing to gurgle as blood pumped out of its neck wound.

  “Stay behind me. We’re going to go to the end of the floor, then go down to the second floor to look for survivors. We’ll check out the first floor, and then we’ll have to give up the search and head for my truck. I’ll take you to the base terminal. At 0400 two planes will evacuate us all. Do you understand me?”

  She shivered uncontrollably for a minute then replied. “What the hell is going on...” She looked the nametape on the front of his body armor, SSgt (Staff Sergeant) Tanaka?” he looked back at her in confusion, then down at his own chest. He tore the nametape off, the hook and pile tape making a long tearing sound, then he tore off the SSgt rank emblem.

  “I’m A1C Caleb White, call me Caleb. I’ve heard a bunch of stuff from zombie apocalypse, to the end of the world. At this point, I just don’t care! I want to go somewhere safe, drink a beer, or a dozen and just sleep. Here, take this and stay behind me.” Caleb handed her the bloody baton, “Please don’t let me down, err, what’s your name?”

  “I’m A1C Henrietta Hernandez, my friends call me H2.” Taking the baton, she gave it a quick test swing. “Okay, I’m ready to get the hell out of here.” She followed close behind him, her hand on the middle of his back. He tried to stay alert but thought of the girl’s hand on his back. The days starting to get better, I think.