The vehicles, mounted with M2 ‘Fitty’ guns, would approach from the main entrance of the airport. The fifty caliber machine guns would make short work of any approaching enemy. They would be supported by an additional twenty soldiers, whose job it was to prevent any flanking or situations where the undead could get too close.
The entrance to the airport would conveniently act as a funnel, drawing the undead into the meat grinder.
An additional four Humvees would he close by to provide fall-back mobility. The noise of this assault would draw all the undead towards their location, which would also be the signal for the main force, fire team two, to enter the stage.
They were to enter the airport grounds through a secondary gate near the end of a runway, haul ass to center stage as it were, and set up a base of fire from which teams would set out to secure their prospective positions and clear out their assigned targets.
Everybody knew what their job was. If the last couple of days were anything to go by, this would be a breeze.
Except, it wasn’t.
BEN AND GARCIA WERE part of fire team two. They had moved out from their position in high spirits. The sound of those 50 Cal’s blazing away were a true comfort.
The gate was small, so that held them up a little longer than they expected. But the continuing sound of the M2’s let them know that everything was still going according to plan.
Except that this enemy didn’t follow regular rules of engagement. Except that things were actually not going according to plan. But fire team two would not know that, until they got their radio set up at their base of fire.
So, it was unknown to the main battle group, that the first fire team had issues almost at once. They got to position, but one Ma Deuce jammed early on during the assault. On top of that, the number of undead was far beyond expectations. Within minutes, a solid mass of undead was pressing in on the pocket of men and machines.
The second gun blazed away. Human bodies were being turned to mush. But the gun could not cover all angles. Also, this assailant knew no fear. They loped at their target with no regard to danger. But their number was too great...
A crowd of zombies was able to get too close. Horner organized a team of soldiers to try to hold the line, but the nearer the zombies got, the less headshots were being made.
Zombies overwhelmed the line, then the first LAV. The second LAV started backing up but backed right into one of the Humvees. The zombies were all over them before anybody had a chance to react. A few quick-thinking men jumped into the parked Humvees and locked themselves in. They were stuck though. Captain Horner was torn apart.
The base of fire had barely been set up when things got quiet. Knowing looks were exchanged between Matheson and his second in command, a Gunny Sergeant named Beasley. Radio communications confirmed the situation.
Thanks to their quick thinking, most of the men survived.
Beasley quickly turned the base of fire into a defensive position, placing three machine guns to cover all angles towards the runway. Matheson organized the men into supporting positions if things got too heavy.
He also sent three squads back to the trucks to pick up more ammunition and organized a group of soldiers into a makeshift platoon, which was ordered to circle wide, and provide assistance to the survivors of fire team one.
It quickly turned into a turkey shoot for the hundred or so men at the improvised defensive position. They only had two hairy moments. The first one occurred when a solid mass of at least a hundred undead lumbered into view. It provided a real pressure test for the men facing them. The second one was when several zombies appeared seemingly out of nowhere from behind the position. Only three men were lost. One to a malfunctioning weapon, one to friendly fire, and one to the undead.
Oh. and a fourth... A suicide. Ben corrected himself, thinking of Matheson.
The other platoon wasn’t as lucky. Ben would know. He was in it.
Their group of thirty soldiers were placed under the leadership of First Lieutenant Harris. Harris had the men swing to the fence line as ordered. They had put some distance between themselves and the airport buildings.
But the problems started almost immediately.
They had barely got out of sight of fire team two when the first group of zombies spotted them and made a beeline to intercept. The guys in front quickly leveled their weapons and took out the half dozen undead with well-placed head shots.
Going weapons live had one considerable drawback – the noise. From that moment on, it was a running battle. What was worse, the platoon was quickly cut off at all angles. Retreat was no longer an option. The strain of only making a kill with a headshot was starting to tell too, as more shots were missing their mark.
The one thing that the soldiers had going for them was that they were attuned to killing. They did not see the guy in the business suit, the little girl with the ponytails, the stewardess, the wife, husband, grandmother... They saw targets only.
What was still a shock to many of the men, was to see a target get shot in what would ordinarily be a fatal spot – to see bone and blood and viscera flying – and then to see that target keep coming at you.
The closer they got; the more shots were being missed by nervous trigger fingers. The team was nearly overwhelmed at one point and only a snap decision to switch to handguns saved them. Even then, a couple of guys took knocks and one soldier was accidentally shot in the shoulder. Sending the wounded man back
