The sound of footsteps coming from above Lynn rises momentarily above the sound of gunfire and the struggle within the confined space. She looks upward to the stairs and landings above, seeing movement rapidly descending her way. Looking down, lights flash off of the walls from the battles on the landings below.
Descending down for the seeming hundredth landing, with Robert flying us on a competent final, voices suddenly interrupt our thoughts and instruction, coming through on the our helmets from our secondary radio.
“Sergeant Drescoll, this is Jordan on the third floor. I have sound and movement coming from the other side of my door,” a whispering voice calls out.
The threshold of the runway begins to fill our screen as Robert adjusts the throttles to keep our airspeed up. He is doing a great job of monitoring his airspeed on short final now. The tendency is to begin to concentrate primarily on the runway as it begins to draw near. Especially if you are feeling a little behind the aircraft and intent on getting it down. My attention is focused primarily on his flying, guiding and giving instruction where need, but a part of my mind is directed to listening to the radios for any further information that might come over them. The radios of the teams are affected by distance and line of sight. Not that they have to be in a line of sight to work, but the line of sight affects the distance they can carry and receive.
He manages to set it in without my wondering if my spine will be permanently affected and I nod my approval.
“Nice job,” I say as he applies the throttles for a touch and go.
Airborne once again, he calls for the gear and shortly thereafter, the flaps. I move the appropriate handles and levers at his call, careful of the airspeeds so we don’t overspeed any of the structural limitations. The aircraft cleans up nicely and he levels off at pattern altitude, ready to turn his crosswind leg.
“They’re onto us,” I hear Lynn say over the radio. “Hold the doors! We’re on our way out.”
“I have the aircraft,” I say over the intercom taking control and switching the radio to the secondary.
“Red Team, this is Jack, over,” I say pressing the transmit button.
“This is Gonzalez,” I hear in return.
“Get yourself, along with Alpha and Bravo Teams, ready to board once we taxi in.”
“Copy that, sir,” Gonzalez says replying. “What about the civilians?”
“Bring ‘em,” I answer.
Bringing the aircraft around, I set up for a combat assault landing, basically the quickest way to get this lumbering beast to the ground. It is an overhead turning maneuver designed to roll out on a very short final, landing quickly. My plan is to load up the rest of our teams and find a field or road near the CDC campus to deploy and aid Lynn rapidly if needed. The chatter on the radio sounds like the proverbial shit has hit the fan.
I land without the sweet kiss of the tires rolling on the pavement but deposit the aircraft on the runway with authority sending a jolt through our seats. Slowing the aircraft down quickly with a firm application of brakes and reverse thrust, I take the center taxiway back to the ramp where I see the other teams lined up and waiting.
“Drop the ramp down to its level position,” I tell Robert as I set the aircraft up for takeoff configuration. The ramp has various settings for a variety of applications.
We taxi in and I then have Robert drop the ramp door down all of the way leaving the engines running. I can feel the aircraft shift as the teams clamber aboard. Gonzalez hops up the stairs to inform us that all are onboard and I brief her quickly on the radio chatter I had been hearing as Robert raises the ramp to its closed position. Quickly taxing to the closest runway, I move the throttles up and we are airborne in a rush, cleaning up the gear and flaps, and turning toward the CDC campus only a short distance away.
Now racing down the stairs to the fourth floor landing, Lynn sees Drescoll and another Green Team member firing through openings in both doors leading to the interior; the doors held partially open by bodies lying in the openings. Lynn exchanges magazines, her now mostly empty one clattering to the landing under her feet as she quickly replaces it with a fully loaded one from her tactical vest. The stench of dead bodies, their insides ripped open by steel-jacketed rounds and bowels emptied mingles with the sharp smell of gunpowder. The near continuous firing is deafening in this small space, amplified by the concrete walls echoing the noise.
“They’re coming down the stairs from above,” Lynn shouts in Drescoll’s ears. “We’ve got to move out now.”
Drescoll merely nods his acknowledgement as he continues to concentrate and focus his attention on keeping the night runners at bay and out of the stairwell, their only route out of here. The rest of Black Team has passed and are on their way down to the lower landings as Lynn passes behind Drescoll and continues her way down. Drescoll and the other Green Team member folding in behind her, delivering their rounds through the open doors as long as possible on their trek down to the third level close on Lynn’s heels.
The overall plan is to fold back in sequence as each landing is passed. The ones guarding those landings and entryways folding in behind those who have passed, becoming the next rear guard. In this fashion, the rear is still protected without the team members bunching up on the stairs slowing the entire retreat and making them more vulnerable. Reaching the third floor landing, Lynn sees the same scene being repeated here as at the fourth level, Jordan and another soldier holding fast as the night runners try to force their way in. The bodies of those slain blocking the doors open. Strobes from their weapons firing bounce off of the walls. Luckily, this version of the night vision goggles have a quick, automatic response to lighting changes or they would all have been blinded by the first rounds sent outward from their M-4’s.
“Follow Drescoll down,” Lynn shouts to Jordan on her passing behind him.
“Roger that, First Sergeant,” he replies without taking his eyes or rifle from the open door on his side. “Hurry though. We won’t be able to hold here much longer.”
“Lynn, this is Jack. I’m overhead with three teams. Need any help? I think I can set down on the main road,” Lynn hears over the din prevalent in the stairwell.
“I think we have it but standby,” she responds to Jack.
Lynn looks back up the stairs quickly to see Drescoll and the other soldier fast behind her, still covering the stairs to prevent the night runners from blind siding them. Looking back down the stairs, she notices an absence of gunfire. The area below is void of the strobe affect. A panic sets in.
Rounding the intermediate landing, she notices the two soldiers still guarding their posts. Relief immediately settles in her.
“Keep going,” she yells as he draws near and slows.
They both pick up their pace once again and descend toward the first floor. The two soldiers guarding the third floor landing appear, traversing backwards and delivering rounds upwards before turning suddenly and running down the stairs toward her. They pass quickly by her following in Drescoll’s path.
“There’s movement and sound on the other side of the door but they haven’t tried to come in as yet,” one of the soldiers guarding the second levels says.
“Okay, you two, go!” She tells the two still with her. “I’ll cover.”
They immediately begin descending downward. The sound of gunfire has vanished and Lynn can now only hear the shrieks and roar of the approaching night runners, a multitude of feet on the stairs as they descend quickly toward her. Lynn starts down as the first of the night runners appears on the intermediate landing above her, shrieking even louder upon discovering her there.
Lynn fires a burst into the crowd, three bullets leaving the barrel of her gun and striking the lead night runner across the chest. Blood spots blossom on the front of its torn, dirty white t-shirt with a large bright yellow smiley face as it tumbles, first backwards, and then forwards due to the push of the night runners behind it. Night runners behind trip on the body tumbling down the stairs, sprawling face first and sliding down the remaining stairs. Lynn rushes down the stairs two at a time, a few feet of separation gained.
Yelling down the stairs for anyone remaining in the stairwell to get into the lobby, she rounds the corner of
