other noise rising to her in the chill early morning air.
Stillness settles over the environment as time comes to a standstill. The creatures stand still and test the air with soldiers staring back down at them with their weapons at the ready. Both groups are dressed in a similar fashion; the only difference being the color and shade of their skin and the creature’s fatigues darkened from blood. More than thirty have gathered below with more showing up with each passing moment. Lynn notices one of the creatures below tense, turn its head directly in their direction, and stares upward. The other creatures stop their milling apparently picking up on the same thing that made this one tense up. The one staring at them suddenly opens its mouth wide and a shriek intrudes over the generator. It charges toward the fence with the others following suit, shrieking as they come.
“Open fire!” Lynn yells before the creature has taken its second step.
The sound of M-16’s opening up along the walkway and sending their deadly load into the mass splits the night, overriding the sound of the shrieks and generator emanating from below. Lynn sights down her M-16 just as the first sounds erupt from below her, the red dot centering on the chest of the creature who first charged their way. She squeezes the trigger adding her own steel to the other rounds drilling into the charging mass. Blood blossoms and sprays outward from the creature as her rounds impact directly into its center mass and it drops rudely to the ramp.
Bodies drop repeatedly to the concrete as more rounds find their marks but the creatures rapidly gain the fence due to their vast numbers. They immediately begin scaling the chain links and, like the others before them, become entangled in the remaining razor wire. They fall to the ground inside the perimeter, dragging the razor wire with them.
The fence looks as if it has sparklers attached to it as many of the rounds being fired come into contact with it as Lynn and the soldiers fire into the creatures scaling the metal links. Many of the things circle around the fence and the sound of gunfire erupts from behind her as Drecoll’s group takes them under fire.
The air is filled with a myriad of sounds; the barking of M-16’s, the clink of magazines hitting the walkway as weapons are reloaded; the pinking sound of shells bouncing on the metal grating; the occasional shriek that rises above the din; the yells of Lynn and Drescoll as they direct fire; and, when sounds fade just for a split moment in time, the ringing sound of the chain link fence being scaled. The air is thick with the smell of gunpowder and the flash of weapons as the rounds leave the barrel. Bodies pile up on along the fence but the sheer numbers force entry into the perimeter; the weight of the creatures on the fence bends it over in places.
The walkway and stairs prevents an angle to the ground directly below on the ramp side so the soldiers continue to direct their fire into those still coming into the light and on the fence.
“They’re inside the perimeter!” Lynn turns and yells to Drescoll.
He turns towards her from his kneeling position on the edge of the other side of the roof, “Here too!”
“We don’t have an angle on them below from here because of the stairs,” she replies back.
“We can hit them fine from here.”
“Down to my last mag,” one of the soldiers calls out below her.
Lynn immediately details one of the soldiers manning the stairs to grab ammo from the crates stacked in the office below. He returns a short time later and positions it behind the group on the walkway. The gunfire on the ramp side ceases momentarily as soldiers grab a resupply of magazines. She then details the same soldier to carry some of the ammo to Drescoll’s side. Weary and deafened from the continuous noise, Lynn notices the sky to the east lighten, portending the coming dawn. As if a switch was thrown, the multitudes of creatures stop emerging into the light and the ones that were inside the perimeter and shielded from the stairs, run out into the still darkened ramp, chased by rounds with a few dropping before finding the safety of the dark.
“Cease fire!” Lynn calls as the last one is swallowed by the darkness. Sergeant Drescoll echoes her command to the group on his side.
The silence that ensues is deafening in its quietness. Even the continued sound of the running generator is not heard through the ringing in everyone’s ears and the smell of almost two hours of continuous gunfire hangs thick in the still morning air. With her legs stiff and knees popping from the time spent kneeling on the metal roof, Lynn stands and reaches around to the small of her back, stretching to work out the kinks.
“Police up whatever magazines you can find and meet inside,” she directs the soldiers below her.
They wearily begin to scoop up the many empty magazines on a walkway littered with shell casings. Lynn continues standing above them and notices how truly cold the night air is as she starts coming down from the flow of adrenaline. With one last look at the bodies covering the ramp and the sky continuing to lighten in the east, she starts down the stairs behind Drescoll and the other soldiers begin their slow, shuffle-like steps into the control room.
Details about what needs to be done in the coming day; fix the fence and gather additional ammo being among them, fills Lynn’s mind as everyone gathers in the control room. “It’s becoming fairly obvious that whatever changes have occurred with these, um, creatures only allows them to operate at night or in the dark. We’ll therefore only travel during the day and only in groups of four or more. Buildings will be treated as hostile environments and avoided as much as possible. If we need to go in, it will be completely cleared before gathering whatever is needed. If that is fine with you, sir?” She asks turning to Major Bannerman.
“Good plan, Sergeant Connell.”
“It’s 0525. We’ll stand down and rest until 0830 and then I’ll assign details. Besides the radio watch, we’ll stand two on watch in one hour shifts until 0830. Now get some rest,” Lynn says after assigning guards and shift schedules.
She opts to take one of the first shifts setting up on the roof covering the ramp and camp sides while a Corporal covers the runway and far side. Sitting with her legs swinging over the side of the roof, she looks out over her area with part of her mind while another part sorts through the multitude of thoughts that race through.
She holds onto the thought that Jack will come even as a logical part of her mind tells her the chances of that happening are marginal at best. She needs to ensure the safety and survivability of the group in her charge here. The camp will do for the short-term but if no one comes, they will need to move on for any chance of surviving in the long-term. That means a continuous supply of food, water, and shelter. To that end, it will mean a long, arduous journey; most likely to some land surrounding The Med and that more likely on the European side. For the first time, she thinks she may not see America again or that, if they are not picked up, it will be a long time coming.
The hour passes and she lays down on the floor of the control room, after passing the next shift to another Private, falling asleep almost before her head touches the floor only to be awakened after seemingly minutes. Waking the rest of the group, she details a squad of four to commandeer additional ammo, some to repair the fence as best as possible, and others to cart the bodies to an open area of the camp. With that detail, she assigns a heavy equipment operator to dig out a grave site to bury the bodies after collecting all of the dog tags she can. Her sense is that these were all once soldiers causing her to give them as close to a decent and military burial as possible.
Once the bodies have been interred, she gathers the entire group together in the early afternoon sun and heat to pay their last respects. The fence is resurrected as much as possible with a fresh lining of razor wire both on top and on the ground below. Ammunition is gathered and resupplied to the tower. The generator is filled with diesel. After the burial ceremony, Lynn has the group rest until the early evening anticipating a replay of the night before.
During the day, Private Turnbull came down with a fever. Lynn inspected the wound on his arm to find that the immediate area around the wound had become the same pale shade of gray of the creatures with a surrounding bright redness of infection. The fever became worse as the day progressed and by nightfall, Private
