taking the adjacent path through the woods. Not a choice, since both men knew that option would be much more dangerous than just engaging these immobile undead. Leaving them flailing about in the fence would draw too much attention—quick kills were the only option.
Approaching cautiously from the west, they switched on their lasers and each took to their targets. Billy Boy took the two on the left and Doc took the right. There was no real need to count down and execute a time-on-target kill, but they did so anyway out of habit.
Doc whispered back, “Three, two . . .”
Thunk, thunk .
The first two shots occurred simultaneously; Billy had an extra shot for the remaining third creature. Clockwork. All three lay caught up in the barbed-wire fence and would stay that way until they decomposed to dust. Strange, but wild animals wouldn’t generally eat the dead.
Doc held down the bottom wire with his boot and pulled the second wire up with his fabricator-gloved hand—no point in risking tetanus or even a simple infection. Billy quickly ducked between the sharp wires and held them wide for Doc. They both continued to move.
“What’s your pace count, Billy?”
“About six hundred, you?”
“Yeah, about that.”
Moving east they noted possible shelters and egress routes in the event they were swarmed or stalked by any foe, dead or otherwise. Thinking back to the briefing, Doc remembered, Stay off the roads. It’s okay to use them as a guide but remain offset at least twenty-five meters. The roads just aren’t safe. The dead congregate there.
The intel report from the former Hotel 23 commander was useful as hell. Some of it was common sense but Doc was fine with that. There was valuable intel in the reports that he was glad to have for his team, like the detailed written account of the base commander’s helicopter crash and subsequent journey back to the compound. In reading the reports, Doc could not help but notice interesting patterns of thought in the man’s mind-set and methods of survival.
It was nearly midnight. They stuck to the preplanned route. Doc didn’t want to risk detection by whatever it was that had attacked Hotel 23; this meant that radios were out, no omnidirectional RF communications. The burst unit set up back at Hotel 23 would evade detection if proper comm discipline was observed, but their Motorola brick units could easily be intercepted and were subject to direction finding (DF) by the most rudimentary SIGINT collection capabilities.
This was Doc’s reasoning for religiously sticking to the planned route. If Doc and Billy didn’t return by daybreak, Disco and Hawse would lock up and search for them at next nightfall, following the trail.
Doc wasn’t thrilled about being clueless about the contents of this airdrop or the other drops marked on the map, but mission was mission.
“Shhhh!” Billy said.
Using hand signals he told Doc to take cover behind a huge pile of storm debris. Doc did so without hesitation and Billy followed, walking backward in a crouch. The instant they were hidden, the howling and moans commenced. Like a night chorus of demons on Halloween night, they bellowed.
Billy whispered to Doc, “At least a hundred.”
“No way, Billy, I’d say about a hundred and four.”
Without thinking, Billy punched Doc hard in the arm, causing Doc to bite his tongue to keep from yelping out.
“Thanks, asshole.”
“No problem, prick.”
“We’re about a mile from the drop,” Doc said.
Smiling, Billy replied, “Naw, more like a mile and a quarter.”
They remained behind some cover until the mini-swarm ofcreatures passed by. When they were far enough out, Doc broke cover and crossed the road where the creatures had just been. The wind blew fading sounds of the creature’s hunger about.
USS Virginia
The only man onboard who is aware I keep a journal is Saien. Even so, I feel apprehensive in documenting some things, in the event my journal is lost or stolen.
Approaching cautiously from the west, they switched on their lasers and each took to their targets. Billy Boy took the two on the left and Doc took the right. There was no real need to count down and execute a time-on-target kill, but they did so anyway out of habit.
Doc whispered back, “Three, two . . .”
Thunk, thunk .
The first two shots occurred simultaneously; Billy had an extra shot for the remaining third creature. Clockwork. All three lay caught up in the barbed-wire fence and would stay that way until they decomposed to dust. Strange, but wild animals wouldn’t generally eat the dead.
Doc held down the bottom wire with his boot and pulled the second wire up with his fabricator-gloved hand—no point in risking tetanus or even a simple infection. Billy quickly ducked between the sharp wires and held them wide for Doc. They both continued to move.
“What’s your pace count, Billy?”
“About six hundred, you?”
“Yeah, about that.”
Moving east they noted possible shelters and egress routes in the event they were swarmed or stalked by any foe, dead or otherwise. Thinking back to the briefing, Doc remembered, Stay off the roads. It’s okay to use them as a guide but remain offset at least twenty-five meters. The roads just aren’t safe. The dead congregate there.
The intel report from the former Hotel 23 commander was useful as hell. Some of it was common sense but Doc was fine with that. There was valuable intel in the reports that he was glad to have for his team, like the detailed written account of the base commander’s helicopter crash and subsequent journey back to the compound. In reading the reports, Doc could not help but notice interesting patterns of thought in the man’s mind-set and methods of survival.
It was nearly midnight. They stuck to the preplanned route. Doc didn’t want to risk detection by whatever it was that had attacked Hotel 23; this meant that radios were out, no omnidirectional RF communications. The burst unit set up back at Hotel 23 would evade detection if proper comm discipline was observed, but their Motorola brick units could easily be intercepted and were subject to direction finding (DF) by the most rudimentary SIGINT collection capabilities.
This was Doc’s reasoning for religiously sticking to the planned route. If Doc and Billy didn’t return by daybreak, Disco and Hawse would lock up and search for them at next nightfall, following the trail.
Doc wasn’t thrilled about being clueless about the contents of this airdrop or the other drops marked on the map, but mission was mission.
“Shhhh!” Billy said.
Using hand signals he told Doc to take cover behind a huge pile of storm debris. Doc did so without hesitation and Billy followed, walking backward in a crouch. The instant they were hidden, the howling and moans commenced. Like a night chorus of demons on Halloween night, they bellowed.
Billy whispered to Doc, “At least a hundred.”
“No way, Billy, I’d say about a hundred and four.”
Without thinking, Billy punched Doc hard in the arm, causing Doc to bite his tongue to keep from yelping out.
“Thanks, asshole.”
“No problem, prick.”
“We’re about a mile from the drop,” Doc said.
Smiling, Billy replied, “Naw, more like a mile and a quarter.”
They remained behind some cover until the mini-swarm ofcreatures passed by. When they were far enough out, Doc broke cover and crossed the road where the creatures had just been. The wind blew fading sounds of the creature’s hunger about.
USS Virginia
The only man onboard who is aware I keep a journal is Saien. Even so, I feel apprehensive in documenting some things, in the event my journal is lost or stolen.
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