ARISEN, Book Five - EXODUS by Michael Stephen Fuchs & Glynn James

Author:Michael Stephen Fuchs & Glynn James [Fuchs, Michael Stephen]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: SEAL Team Six, SOF, high-tech weapons, Increment, serial fiction, fast zombies, spec-ops, techno-thriller, naval adventure, SAS, dystopian fiction, special operations, zombies, supercarrier, Delta Force, Hereford, military, horror, Zombie Apocalypse
Publisher: Glynn James & Michael Stephen Fuchs
Published: 2013-11-19T00:00:00+00:00

Another Bullshit Night in Ammo City

The JFK Flight Deck

Handon was now huddled up behind the line with his cobbled-together special mission force, where he had created a small planning bubble amidst the chaos. He had a few critical things to convey to his new team – and only a few seconds to do it. The group of eight sailors, six men and two women, looked tense, to say the least. But they’d been selected to do something important, and they knew it. So they also looked determined.

And determination can sometimes carry the day.

Most of the militia wore flak jackets and helmets – but all of Handon’s people did. They were about to go intentionally into extreme hazard. Behind them, one of the two big tractors was being backed up to the line, its rhythmic reverse beeps surreally audible under the roar of the battle.

And the lashing rain that Handon had thought would make the fight so much more perilous was back. It came down so hard and heavy that its splashing up from the deck soaked them more from below than above. But everyone was soaked to the bone by now anyway. The sky flashed brilliantly in the north; and two seconds later, a long rumbling thunderclap rolled heavily through the air over the deck.

Handon was already shouting into his huddle when the firing from the line picked up even more – and some newly urgent shouting joined the chorus. He looked up to see one of the Marines – Corporal Flores, a young, relatively small, and earnest operator – leap on top of the tractor, take a couple of aimed shots, then shout for Coulson, who climbed up there with him.

Whatever they were doing up there, Handon didn’t have time to mess with it, nor the attention to follow along. He didn’t have time for anything – except to prepare, and to go. Everything was moving very, very quickly – and even a momentary lapse of attention could prove fatal. He backgrounded his awareness of whatever was happening up there, monitoring it only enough to notice if it grew into something he needed to react to.

But up on the tractor, Coulson instantly clocked the situation: four sailors, who had been trapped in Ammo City when it got overrun, had somehow survived. Now they were trying to fight their way back to friendly lines. The crush of dead on the front quarter of the flight deck wasn’t so thick that you couldn’t push your way through it – but, being a crowd of infected, flesh-eating monsters, it was a hell of a lot denser than you really wanted to have to push through.

The four survivors, in their gray-and-blue fatigues, sci-fi rifles raised to shoulders, maintained a tight cruciform formation as they moved, backs all in to the center, each one facing out and firing in a cardinal direction – and firing non-stop. They had somehow managed to clear enough space around them to stay on their feet. But every mag change was a crisis, and there was little room for error.

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