Whiskey Tango Foxtrot (Escaping the Dead) (2 page)

Henry spoke first,
“Sergeant, how is that possible?  We are almost ten miles from the FOB and
those things caught up with us.   They aren’t Kenyans Sarge! 
Nobody is that fast, they didn’t even look tired.”

“I don’t know
Henry.  I shot that guy six times before he went down. Cole was tearing
that crowd apart with the big gun, and I swear I saw some of them get back up.
Let’s just keep it together and we will figure this out.”

Brad spoke into the
internal radio.  “Méndez take point and recon ahead.  I don’t want
any surprises up front.”

The more maneuverable
Humvee passed the MRAP and pulled away.   Méndez’s truck was far
ahead now and running as a scout.  Méndez was staying just within sight of
Brad.  They had driven for close to an hour now without seeing anything or
hearing a word on the radio.  It was getting late and the sun was
beginning to crest the mountains.  Brad knew they would only have another
hour or so of daylight.

“
Sergeant, I can see
the convoy.  I’m stopping,”
squelched the radio.

“Roger that, Méndez,
we’ll hang back.  What can you see?” asked Brad.

“
Not good Sarge, I
can see the vehicles, looks like maybe one or two are missing.  There are
no people.  Nothing appears to be alive down there”.

“Stay in position
Méndez. I’m moving to your location,” Brad responded.  

The MRAP moved forward
and pulled up alongside the Humvee.  Brad used his scout binos to look at
the scene ahead of him.  “Looks like the LT circled the wagons,” he said
to himself out loud.  The convoy was still in its defensive
perimeter.  Brad didn’t see anyone in the turrets, and the razor wire
barrier looked like it had been dragged inside of their safe zone.

Brad continued to scan
but he didn’t see a single living person.  Most of the vehicles had the
doors open and the turrets still had mounted weapons on top.  Brad knew
his people wouldn’t leave their vehicles and weapons like that.  He did a
vehicle count and compared it with the convoy order he had received early that
morning.  Two MRAPS were missing from the convoy. 

Brad had an idea of
what may have happened by the way things were strewn about.  The perimeter
was overrun and the lighter vehicles had easily been overtaken in the same way
they had lost truck three.  The heavier MRAPs were able to take the
initial blow and be secured.  Brad guessed that the MRAPs had fled the
mob, and were pursued by the attackers in the same way the Bremmel mob had
chased them.

With his two vehicles
on line, they started to approach the perimeter.  As they got closer he
could tell that it wasn’t going to be pretty.  The soldiers hadn’t
abandoned their positions.  Parts of them were scattered everywhere, as
well as several bodies of the crazies that must have attacked the
convoy.   They pulled to within 100 meters of the perimeter.  He
had Cole and Eric mount the guns and provide cover while he and Méndez went in
on foot.  Not only did he want to protect his men from any physical
danger, he wanted to save them the experience he was sure he would find.

Walking among the
wreckage he could see the soldiers put up a fight.  There was blood
everywhere.  Pieces of body armor and protective equipment were ripped
apart and tossed to the ground.  Brad saw a fighting position where there
was a pile of brass and dead bodies.  Many of the dead were slashed and cut
apart.  Located near the pile was a dead soldier Brad recognized, still with a
fighting knife in his hand.

They found the
Lieutenants Humvee with the doors open and bent.  The inside of his truck
had been smeared with blood and looked like it had been destroyed.  Things
were tossed everywhere.  One MRAP had bodies all over it in different
twisted poses. 
‘Whoever had manned that gun must have gone down hard,’
Brad thought.  The MRAP was surrounded by corpses that had been shredded
by the MRAPs fifty caliber machine gun. 

“Over here!” Méndez
called. 

Off to the side of the
perimeter, they could see where sets of big tire tracks had pulled away from
the fight, dragging the defensive razor wire with it.  There was a bread
trail of bodies following as the vehicle tracks peeled away into the distance.
From the tracks and drag marks, it was obvious that the mob had followed them
into the desert.

They found nothing
else.  They took a trailer off one of the MRAPs and loaded it with
anything they could find in the convoy that they may need later.  Cases of
MRE’s, bottled water, 5 gallon cans of fuel, batteries and as many ammo cans as
they could carry.  They grabbed a spare gun for each truck and called for
Henry to bring down their vehicles so they could connect the trailer and top
them off with fuel.   Méndez located a sniper rifle and a couple
light 240B machine guns that he loaded in the rear of the MRAP.

After they were sure
everything useful had been recovered, they mounted back up.  Brad decided
it was best to stay the night near the convoy in hopes the two MRAPs would
circle back. He directed the vehicles off road and towards a small ridgeline
that over looked the convoys final resting place.  They pulled into a nice
hide where the vehicles could be hidden by some large rock formations, but
still able to see the road and the approach to the ambush site.

The men were
exhausted.  Brad told them he would take the first watch, and instructed
the others to get some rest.  He walked over to check on PFC Ryan. 
He was still hot with fever and unconscious.  The wounds around his
forearm had grown a deep purple and had streaking going up his arm.  It
didn’t look good.  He was still laid out in the back of the Humvee.
Quietly, Brad closed the door and walked past Eric and Méndez who were sleeping
off to the front of his truck. 

He climbed on top of
his MRAP and slowly scanned the horizon with his night vision scope looking for
any danger.  Finding none, he settled into a comfortable position and
carefully watched the road.  The desert had become quiet and lonely in the
twilight hours.  The shadows growing as the sun slowly dropped behind the
distant mountains.

Later, in the darkness,
he heard the moans and noise coming from the road.  Through his scope he
could see the mob from Bremmel moving towards the convoy ambush site.  The
group paused when they reached the vehicles.  Brad felt the hairs stand on the
back of his neck while he waited to see what they would do.  He looked behind
him and could see that the rest of his men were also up and looking at the
road. 

The mob suddenly
started moving again and continued to follow the road to the village that Brad
and his men had patrolled earlier that day.  Brad was relieved that the
Crazies didn’t appear to be good trackers.  Once again it became quiet,
which was strange for this part of Afghanistan, where you could always here jet
aircraft or distant explosions all through the night. 

Brad watched an hour
more, and then woke Henry to take over the watch.  He climbed into the
back of the MRAP and drifted to sleep listening to Henry shuffle around on top
of the large vehicle.  Brad woke to the muffled sounds of screaming. 
It wasn’t his men; it was a loud howling moan, almost inhuman.  He jumped out
of his MRAP and saw his men gathered around the Humvee. 

They were stone silent
in disbelief.  Inside PFC Ryan was clawing at the doors and tugging on the
handles trying to get out.  Ryan’s face wore a mask of rage. 

“I don’t know what
happened Sergeant!  I heard the noise in the Humvee and when I got close
Ryan saw me and just started screaming.  He is going crazy in there. 
I don’t dare open the door,” mumbled Cole.

“It’s okay Cole, you
were right not to open it or let him out.  I’m not sure what’s going on,
but looks like he may be infected with whatever turned those people on the
road,” Brad answered.

“What do we do with
him?” asked Cole.

Eric stepped between
the men and the Humvee “We can’t kill him like the others.  He’s one of
us,” said Eric.

Cole raised his hand
pointing at the vehicle, “He’s making too much noise.  He will attract the
crazies, we have to shut him up,” said Cole.

“What the fuck do you
mean ‘shut him up’?” countered Eric.

“I mean if he doesn’t
stop screaming he is going to get us all killed,” Cole shouted back.

Brad just looked on,
“He’s right,” Brad said raising his hand, “and we got to silence him”.

Eric stood his ground
in front of them and pleaded, “Okay, you guys open the door, I’ll tackle him
and we can zip tie him and cover his mouth … We don’t know what this is. 
Maybe it will wear off.  Maybe there is a cure.”

“Fine let’s do it
then.  Let’s get this done quickly,” replied Brad.

The men gathered around
the Humvee door on the far side.  The plan was for Cole to open the door
and when Ryan ran out at Brad and Méndez, Henry and Cole would drop a canvas
tarp over him and wrestle him to the ground.  Meanwhile Eric would apply
the restraints to his wrists, then gag him.

  As soon as they
opened the door Brad knew their plan wasn’t going to work.  He could see
by the fear in the other men’s eyes they knew it also.  Ryan wasn’t a big
man, and he wasn’t considered strong, but this version of Ryan did not tire
out.  Ryan kept fighting and clawing at the canvas.  He bit at Brad’s
leg through the tarp and the pain was unreal.  Lucky for Brad, Ryan’s teeth
couldn’t get through the heavy material.

They struggled with
Ryan and were all near exhaustion.   Eric had only managed to put one
wrist in a zip cuff and it was taking everything Méndez and Brad had to keep
Ryan’s head pinned to the ground.  All the time Ryan was letting out that
scream of rage.  Brads arms began to get numb and he lost grip.  Even
with the bad shoulder and bandaged arm Ryan gained leverage.  He was able to
get a foot planted and he began to stand.  Easily, he tossed Henry from
his back, grabbed at Eric’s pants, and then started to lunge.  Ryan’s body
suddenly went limp and he slumped to the ground on top of Eric, his single zip
tied hand gripping Eric’s throat. There was a knife planted square in the back
of Ryan’s head.

“I’m sorry, it was too
much, I didn’t have a choice,” Cried Méndez.

“Wha … wha … You
murdered him!  You killed Ryan,” Eric squealed. 

With no thought, Brad
slapped Eric and yelled, “Shut the fuck up, that wasn’t Ryan!  He would
have killed all of us.  I don’t know what’s happening but if we’re going
to make it … you better harden the fuck up!” 

Brad paused for a
moment before he continued, “Méndez! Grab your shovel and help me bury
this soldier.   The rest of you get packed up.  We are rolling
out of here as soon as it gets light.”   

Méndez and Brad lifted
Ryan’s limp body and carried him away from the trucks.  They took one of
his dog tags and his wallet.  They put his military ID card and another
tag in Ryan’s breast pocket and buried him in the sand.  They didn’t say a
word.  When they were finished they quietly walked back to their vehicles.

Brad walked to the MRAP
and saw Cole helping Eric load his gear into the back of the truck. 
“What’s going on Cole?” Brad said.

“Well, Eric doesn’t
want to ride in that Humvee after what happened, and I tend to agree with
him.  Besides, this way we can ride together and we can save on fuel.  Who
knows how far we will have to drive?” Cole answered.  Brad nodded his
agreement and helped them cross load the rest of their gear from the
Humvee. 

They pulled out of the
hide at first light.  Not really knowing where to go, they had decided the
best bet was to follow the two MRAPs that had fled the mob ambush on the
road.  The MRAP now had two more passengers, bringing the crew to
five.  It was a bit more crowded, but they did feel more secure being
locked tight in one vehicle, and Méndez and Eric were glad to be out of the
Humvee after what had happened there.  They drove past the quiet ambush
site of the convoy, and fell into the tire tracks of the two missing vehicles.

After a good hour of
driving they saw a makeshift campsite surrounded by a pile of bodies. 
“They must have discovered what we did yesterday, the bastards like to follow,”
said Brad. 

“From the looks of it
the guards spotted them early, and took off before they got close. We’re still
a good hundred feet from the stop site,” said Cole. 

Méndez stood to look
out of the turret, “Good for them, maybe we will have some good news today.”  

They settled back into
the MRAP and continued to follow the trail.  They drove all day and never
saw anything else.  When it got dark they decided to continue on, in hopes
of meeting up with the missing vehicles. 

Early morning with a
bright moon Henry woke Brad up with a shake.  “Sergeant, where
now?”  They had come to a paved road and the tracks ended
there.  It was hard to tell which way the trucks had gone.  Brad
exited his MRAP and took a knee on the pavement searching for clues.  He
could see where the mob of crazies had entered the road, but it didn’t look
like they knew which direction to go either.  Some of the pack appeared to
have just crossed the road and kept going.  The rest traveled both left
and right as if they couldn’t make a decision.  Brad was surprised that they
didn’t stick together; maybe they didn’t have the pack mentality he expected.

Brad stood and walked
back towards the truck, stopping when he heard a distant buzzing.  He knew
the sound and looked up.  There was a small predator drone circling high
above.  Brad waved at the drone and turned on his IR strobe hoping to let
the drone know that he saw it.  The drone reversed the direction of its
orbit and reversed it again.  Brad took this as a sign they had been seen,
but he still didn’t know what to do.  Then the Drone went to a lower
altitude and followed the road to the north before going higher and back out of
sight.

Brad entered the
vehicle and said “Well I guess that settles that, follow the drone”.

“But Sergeant, that’s
away from the main base.  Nothing is that way but Uzbekistan,” argued
Méndez.

“Corporal it’s almost
400 kilometers to the main air base, we aren’t going to make it there on our
fuel and in these conditions.  The border crossing at Hairatan is our best
bet.  There is a railroad and a lot of truck traffic there so somebody should
see us.  The drone sees us, so they know where we are at.  Hopefully
we can join up with the other trucks and they will send someone for us.” 
The men reluctantly nodded in agreement, and Henry pulled the truck onto the
road and headed north.