Of Sudden Origin - Part 3 Tribulation by Harwood C. Chase

Author:Harwood, C. Chase [Harwood, C. Chase]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Science Fiction
Publisher: Fate & Fortune Press
Published: 2014-05-21T07:00:00+00:00

Copper and Jones sat atop the water tower keeping watch. Both men scanned the horizon with thermal binoculars. The image was like looking at a black and white negative, the heat signatures of various objects making for crystal clear differentiation.

Copper whined, “Now why in the F.U.C.K didn’t we have these fucking things when we were down in that bandong dungeon of horrors?”

“Cause there’s only two pair for the whole platoon? Cause the pilots like havin’ ’em all to their selves? Cause the army’s a cheap ass – hold on. I got contact. Bearing one eight five degrees – shee-yte, it’s a boatload of the motherfuckers.”

Copper spun around and focused his glasses on Jones’ angle. “Uh oh, bad night. I count four klicks out.”

“Bitches are running. Not fast, but running.” Jones keyed his mic. “Sarge, come in.”

Bullock came on line, “Go for Bullock.”

“We got incoming. Looks like a whole mess of them Shitfobs. Coming from due South. Estimate… half hour out.”

“Keep an eye out. Will advise.”

“Roger that.”

They could hear the rest of the troops come alive as Bullock passed the word to O’Shea and orders filtered out.

Jones kept looking through the binoculars and spoke to Copper out of the side of his mouth. “I’m guessing at least a hundred, probably more.”

“Yeah, at least.” Copper spun around and scanned behind them again. He suddenly sucked air in through his teeth. “Bad, bad, bad, bad. Not good.”

“What?”

“Whole pack comin’ down the highway, one-six degrees. I count maybe twenty.”

Jones spun around. “Got’em. Two klicks. Fuck if they ain’t runnin’ too.”

O’Shea decided to confront the smaller band head on. He didn’t have a large enough force to confront both groups at once. He called on Cavanaugh’s squad to abandon the nerve agent clean up and instead make the assault in the newly cleaned Humvee.

Bullock was searching with his own binoculars. “Cap, we could also wind up the dirty bird. Attack the larger group with the mini-gun. Keep the clean heli, ‘case we still need to bug out.”

O’Shea gave it a moment’s consideration. “Hmm, okay, get Frick suited up and in the air, just one to work the gun. I want to keep the main force together.”

With this new order, the pilot for the still contaminated Chinook, Warrant Officer Frick, went through the start-up procedure while PFC Deeter pulled on the last of his JLIST gear.

Jones and Copper watched from the silo as Cavanaugh’s team raced out to the North, confirmed that the smaller group of humans were infected, then laid into them with everything they had. The gunfire and grenade explosions echoed off the various farm buildings. It was a turkey shoot.

The Chinook’s engines throttled up just as the gunfire from Cavanaugh’s assault was dying down. The other mass coming from the South heard all of this and typical of the infected, broke into a sprint toward the farm.

Jones radioed, “We got a banzai charge, Cap. A couple hundred, I’d guess. They’re all sprinting. Ten minutes, max!”

O’Shea was looking through his own standard binoculars now.

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