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R.T.D.W.
Author of 5 Stories |
After they finished eating, Bert, Zane, and Gary went back into the weapons room where they each began to pick their own armament.
Bert began picking through the vests, looking for one that fit him, while Gary tried on a pair of combat boots. Zane, meanwhile, was busily strapping on kneepads, elbow pads, and a spandex undershirt.
"Aww... Come on, man. I definitely don't need to see that," joked Bert as he looked up at Zane.
"Shut your trap, biotch, this thing is comfortable," replied Zane as he moved on to boots.
"It is?"
"Yea."
"Hell, toss one over here, I might try it on," said Bert, clumsily catching the spandex undershirt Zane threw him.
"Make sure you two tie those boots tight enough," said Gary feeling that he needed to contribute something to the conversation.
About ten minutes of childish goofing off and manly dress-up with combat gear the three were almost ready to pick out weapons. But there was something that needed to be attended to first...
"How do I look?" asked Bert as he modeled for the other two guys. He had on a pair of black combat boots, his jeans, kneepads, and a thigh holster. For his torso there was the spandex undershirt, a combat vest, fingerless gloves, and a baseball cap he'd found lying around. This mixed with his glasses made for an altogether... interesting look.
"Awesome, man, just awesome," replied Zane, "you look like a nerdy backstreet counter-terrorist gangster!"
"What the hell?"
"Exactly. Now, how do I look?" Zane, on the other hand, looked way more bad ass. He had on a pair of black combat fatigues with kneepads, black combat boots, and a thigh holster as well. For the torso he had on a black spandex undershirt, a belt to hold gear and ammunition, a slim black helmet, and a knife scabbard that was tied to his other thigh.
"Well, you look completely kick ass, biz-natch," answered Bert as he nodded his head in approval.
Gary looked like a backyard warrior as he had on a large helmet, two holsters for pistols, two knives, three belts for gear, and a pair of boots along with some fingerless gloves.
"Thanks, homie," said Zane.
Bert just mumbled his reply as he had now turned to the weapons and was scrutinizing each and every one of them. Gary and Zane soon joined him.
The pegs that were missing weapons were thick and widely spaced, appearing to have held large weapons. However, the weapons still left were quite formidable. The most notable were the G36k that was lying on the ground, a G3A1 rifle that was to the left of everything, the M16A4 with the under barrel grenade launcher, two Steyr Aug's, two Ak-47s, and an Mp5.
Several minutes later the three of them found themselves armed. Zane had taken a large silver pistol that was marked to be of the .40S&W caliber and the MP5, and had filled a large pack with ammunition for both. Several magazines were on his vest. Bert had taken a nine-millimeter pistol and much ammunition for that and an L85A1 that had a 4x scope attached to it. There were four magazines for the weapon on his vest, and even more boxes of ammunition in his pack. Gary was, however, outfitted much differently from the two younger men. In a holster at his side their was a blued revolver with a six inch long barrel and a walnut grip. He claimed it to be a .44 magnum and had grabbed every box of ammunition he could find for it. His second pistol was an old 1911 with wooden grips. Strapped across his back was another weapon that looked out of place among all the automatics and black military weapons, an M14 in a beautiful wooden stock and a slim looking barrel, and a long, slim scope topped it all off.
"So... What now?" Zane asked frowning.
"Now I make sure you both know how to use your weapons," replied Bert. "Gary, you're good, I know, since you told me about shooting those sorts of things during your childhood. Now, Zane, you know how to load your MP5, right?"
Another four minutes later they were ready to go.
After examining a map of the building for a minute and conversing the three of them decided that the best way to get out of the building would be to proceed to the sky bridge opposite of the one that led to the parking garage and move toward the harbor from there.
"Come on guys, let's head to the stairs. I'll take point and Gary, you take the rear. Zane, stay in the middle," ordered Bert as he raised his L85 up to his shoulder. They were armed, cocky, and due for a reality check very soon.
They passed down the stairs without incident, the entire building was deathly quiet. The three of them exited the stairwell on the ninth floor and entered a large hallway with a large bank of tinted windows on the left, blank white walls with the occasional door on the right. The floor was sparkling clean white marble and the ceiling had a curve to it. The hallway amplified even the smallest of sounds.
Looking out the windows on the left Bert could see the street nearly ninety feet below, filled with living dead that were clamoring for entrance into the building that they were currently in. The sky bridge was only fifty feet away, jutting out over the carnage filled road below to meet the plain looking glass covered building across the street.
They came up to the doors to the sky bridge and pushed them open, leaving the echoing hallway. The bridge was quiet, as if in a twisted mockery of the scene below. The street was filled with cars, some collided with others and the rest frozen in a semblance of what they'd been doing before the shit hit the fan. The undead choked the spaces in between the vehicles and the sidewalks, a flood that filled every space available at ground level. Some were clamoring for entrance to various doors, but most wandered aimlessly throughout the streets, lost.
Bert stopped as a shadow passed over the three of them and looked up in time to see an unmarked helicopter begin to land on the roof above. He got a sudden feeling that they should be leaving, and quickly. "Let's go," he whispered to no-one in particular as his confidence and cockiness was replaced with the fear of impending doom.
Reaching the other end of the bridge Bert pulled open one of the double doors and immediately feel backwards as a fetid stink fell over him followed by four of the undead. As he scrambled backwards Bert was dimly aware of shots being fired behind him but was much more concerned with the four undead reaching for him.
After several shots from both Zane and Gary two of the undead fell to the ground either missing their heads or having suffered a lobotomy gone horribly wrong. Suddenly Bert came up to a solid surface - the wall at the other end of the bridge - and was only vaguely aware of raising his L85 to his shoulder and flicking the safety off and spraying 5.56 millimeter rounds into his shambling pursuers. Everything was suddenly quiet. The undead were now redead and Bert's weapon had jammed, saving him fourteen rounds.
Bert shakily got to his feet as adrenaline surged through his veins.
"Jesus fucking Christ," he half-whispered, "that was too fucking close."
"Yea, and I'm down an entire clip," said Zane, "I'm thinking no more full-auto shit."
"Agreed," answered Gary, his voice trembling, "we can't afford it."
Fifteen of the soldiers were cradling either fixed stock G3A3s or collapsible G3A4s in their arms. Of these fifteen three had two LAWs slung across their backs. Of the six other soldiers three had massive M82A1s slung across their backs and strange looking submachine guns that sported grossly oversize drum magazines. The other three were each carrying a Russian made PKM in their arms, four boxes of ammunition for their guns strapped to their chests as well as various heavy-duty explosives.
"Hotel squad, with me!" shouted one of the soldiers through his helmet's Com's system. A bulky long-distance communications device was strapped to the Man's back, and despite it's size it appeared no inconvenience to him.
Six silent nods were directed toward him and the seven soldiers quickly disappeared down the Eastern stairs with Lima Squad Quickly vanishing down the Western stairs. Delta stayed to watch the three Hinds and the two wrecked helicopters that were tangled together at one end of the pad, precariously close to the edge, the area of one of many recent tragedies. Burnt corpses lined the ground nearby.
Meanwhile Hotel squad's leader was clearing room after room of the top floor of the building while Lima handled the one below. They would leapfrog all the way down in this manner. Every time the Hotel soldiers would either find an empty room of no importance or a burned out hulk that no longer held any incriminating evidence. Many were just empty with nothing in them at all. Then they came upon the security station. It was abandoned, but their were signs that someone had recently come by and stolen equipment.
A nearby speaker then blasted out the tinny sounds of gunfire and the SL's attention was drawn to one of the screens where two teenagers and a man who looked to be in his late thirties or early forties were firing at four approaching infected. One was crawling backwards on his ass.
Inwardly he laughed at the sight but still he called in to the Mission control. "Mission Control, this is Hotel One. Over."
"Roger that Hotel One, this is Mission Control, over."
"Mission control, I have visuals on three civilians that appear to have stumbled into the building and then raided it for supplies and weapons exiting via Sky Bridge Two, over."
"Roger that, Hotel One. You are to continue the building sweep. Let them go, over."
"Roger that Mission control, this is Hotel one, over and out."
After this conversation with a man who was an entire ocean away the Hotel one SL returned to sweeping the building, drawing ever closer to the ground floor, and from there, the basement.
At the end of the hallway the three of them came upon a huge bank of elevators, and after pressing a button the three of them discovered that these elevators were in perfect working order. The elevator sent the three of them down to the first floor where the doors opened upon yet another room like the one they had just left. Exiting this room through an open doorway on the left the three of them came upon the buildings lobby, a large but comfortable area that had large glass doors that looked out onto the street. Everyone in the lobby got a good view of the outside while only the people right up against the windows could see inside.
Unfortunately the undead were packed so tight that one did see them and it began to moan and pound against the glass, the nearby undead turning and swarming on the glass in a slow, clumsy, yet fluid motion.
The glass was already beginning to crack.
Gary swore under his breath and turned and ran through a door next to the receptionist's desk with Bert and Zane following suit. They passed through two small, dark, white hallways and then encountered a white and unfriendly stairwell. Moans from up above meant that the only direction to go was down. Into the basement, but they went anyways. The door their opened outward and had no lock, but fortunately there was a large cabinet nearby with which they covered the door behind them. The room they had just entered wasn't very large, perhaps eight feet wide and twenty long at the most. At the end was a doorway that had been filled in with brick, and there were two doors on the left and the right.
A quick search revealed one door, which had no doorknob, to open into an extremely dusty cabinet, and the one next to it to be a mechanical room which they stayed out of for the time being.
The other two doors opened into a dusty lounge and another hallway. This hallway ended abruptly with just a wall and nothing else.
"Well, crap," Bert panted as they heard moaning and loud thuds coming from the stairwell door. After that they could hear and see banging on the door. "That's not good..." he mumbled.
Zane, erstwhile, was checking out the brick wall and had managed to push about seven bricks out and was working the hole even more.
"You got us a way out, then?" asked Gary as he switched back and forth from watching Zane work to the door over on the other end of the hall vibrate.
"I dunno, the bricks are getting harder to move," replied Zane as he struggled to loosen another.
"Move it," said Gary loudly as he pushed Zane out of the way while handing him his rifle. Then he backed up and ran forward and smashed all his weight into the wall. There was a resounding crack and the brick wall cracked up the middle.
All it took after that was a moment as Gary peered into the darkness and then slung his rifle over his shoulder, drawing his revolver and pulling a flashlight from one of his pockets. As he turned it on he swore he could feel the metal cannister in his left breast pocket vibrate, but nothing else happened.
"Both of you, follow me. Now," Gary said as he stepped into the tunnel, flashlight in his left hand and revolver in his right.
As they stepped into the hallway there was the strangest sensation of stepping into a whole 'nother world. The sounds of the living dead laying siege to the door were immediately muffled. Several steps into the tunnel and it was inaudible altogether. The air was cold and damp and the walls were lined with rusting pipes and wires, and the floor was covered in about an inch of dirty water.
Gary. Zane thought he was alright, and was glad to have the company.
"Hold it," came the whisper from up front that sounded as if it was coming from all direction due to the echoing nature of the tunnel. He could see that beyond Gary the tunnel forked into two directions. One branch went left, the other straight ahead.
The three of them were quiet for a moment, their breath audible in the complete silence of the tunnel. Wait, what was that? There was a slight glint in the continuing tunnel, and Zane was squinting as he tried to see what it was. Suddenly the entire tunnel was filled with a vibrating sound and the glinting sound began to move forward toward them. Within seconds it had moved four feet closer and now they could see what it was - a wall of flesh filled the tunnel ahead of them, oozing forward.
"Jesus fucking Christ!" someone yelled, thought Zane wasn't quite sure who, though he could see why they'd said it.
The wall curved inward toward the center where the glinting had come from, there there were two large purple eyes that had veins running toward bloodshot centers. The flesh looked stringy and individual fibers were visible, and it was the color of sewer water - a dirty brown. And sticking toward the bottom left was an arm, hand limply and covered with dried blood.
And the smell, oh Christ the smell was just awful, completely indescribable in its unearthliness.
Zane was brought to his senses as his ear drums were assaulted again and again as Gary fired his revolver, lighting up the tunnel for an eighth of a second every few seconds. And the thing wasn't stopping. Wherever a hole opened up it would just disappear again a few moments later as the thing advanced.
"Run, Jesus Lord fucking almighty run!" yelled Gary after he had fired all six rounds into the oncoming wall.
"To the left, the left! There's one behind us too!" yelled Zane with a look over his shoulder.
The three ran as quickly as possible, hauling ass through the darkness in their rush to get away from the things. They were driven by adrenaline and a primeval fear that none of them had been familiar with until now.
Seven of the squad members were there in the laboratory, the sniper and the heavy gunner were both present with their guns trained on the large glass tank that was in the middle of the room. The room was seventy feet by seventy feet and the ceiling was thirty feet up, and various lab computers and monitors ringed the bottom of the tank. Various doors led out from different areas, but the biggest one was a large steel door moved by hydraulics that had shown itself to be made of two feet of steel when they opened it, and it was large enough to drive a semi through.
Which was actually why it was there, it connected to a freight reception area, and that connected to a tunnel that ran for several hundred miles to a remote ocean-side location where supplies were dropped off via submarine. This was one of two lines that led to a submarine connection hub, the other was accessible only by monorail and was for emergency use only.
Back to the glass tank, though, which was filled with a transparent and slightly green liquid that bubbled occasionally. There was something inside the tank, something that drifted lazily back and forth in the goo, something semi-humanoid like most of Umbrella's creatures that had six grotesque arms protruding from its distorted torso, a head that had an extended dog-like mouth, and two disgusting, distorted legs. On top of that the entire thing appeared to be covered in an exoskeleton.
Orders for the soldiers were to kill it with lead, not explosives, because the creature could survive a direct hit from even an RPG even with the exo-skeleton weakened by all the acid that had been put in the solution that the thing was floating in. So how were the soldier's weapons better? Each of them had specially designed ammunition that would either pierce or significantly damage the outer shell with a special tip and then explode a half a second later. Not a large explosion, though, but just enough to damage tissue.
And the LAWs, the LAWs were equipped with special missiles that would pierce with a heavy tip and then explode, those were more lethal than anything else.
The squad leader, after several minutes of button pressing and code entering, pulled back a lever that started the fluids emptying from the tank. The creature, who was clearly agitated by this, began to thrash, smashing against the glass with its six arms.
Then the message came over the Com's system: "All units, open fire, the LAW is out in ten seconds."
The noise was deafening as four G3s opened fire on the creature, followed by the continuous fire from the PKM wielding soldier and the loud, deafening shots from the M82. At point blank range these shots were all extremely destructive, especially the fifty caliber rounds from the M82. The front part of the exoskeleton was nearly completely gone, bits and pieces of it littering the ground all around it. The flesh behind was continuous rippling as tens of tens of tiny explosions tore up the muscle and organs. Two of the arm had fallen off due to chance explosive hits from the M82 ripping them off, and one other was hanging on by muscle fiber and a ligament. After tens seconds the thing was still struggling forward toward the men, but was halted in its tracks by the LAW missile which whooshed from the launcher and blew the creature into tiny bits.
Yep, Umbrella wasn't fucking around with their BOWs anymore.
"Command, this is Foxtrot Seven, the bomb is dropped, I repeat, the bomb is dropped. Heading up top for extraction now, over," he yelled into the radio. To his right were the swirling waters of the river below and to his left were the undead that were pushing towards the cordon on the mainland side of the river, and ahead of him was one of the main towers of the Williamsburg Bridge; seperating him and the tower was twenty feet of sharply sloping cable with two smaller half inch cables on either side acting as railings.
"Roger that Foxtrot seven, but we have some bad news for you. You and everyone else on the other side of the cordon are now officially labeled biologically 'dirty' and are not allowed back through the cordon until things have settled down. The helicopter cannot pick you up, but we are leaving supplies there for you at the extraction point. You have a radio to contact us with; good luck." Came the staticky response from one of the many grunts at headquarters, and the guy even sounded like he felt bad about it. But what good did that do James?
The pack had two minutes left before it detonated, so he began hauling ass up the cable as fast as he could. Within seconds he began to sweat profusely and breath heavily as he climbed up the steep cable. Fifteen seconds later James had finally reached the top and stood up on shaky legs, dripping with sweat and with a pain in his thigh where his m9 and repeatedly jabbed into it during the steepest part of the ascent. And, as promised, there was a pile of supplies on the ground.
As he went closer he saw that whoever had decided what supplies he got had been extremely generous. There were three long wooden crates that obviously held various firearms, and behind those was one big wooden crate that was marked U.S. ARMY in big, bold letters.
James pulled the knife from his sheeth and pried open the first of the long crates and ripped off the lid. Inside was padding and an M24A3 SWS and two magazines of .338 Lapua Magnum, as well as a sling. In the second one was an M16A3with two magazines in the padding next to it. In the last one, however, was a special surprise in the form of an MGL Mk1 grenade launcher. In the crate was over three-hundred and ninety rounds of ammunition for the M16, over two hundred for the M24A3 SWS, and thirty grenades for the MGL; as well as enough food and water to last a single person four weeks, according to the writing on the box, anyways.
As he looking through this last crate, however, the pack went off, sending a shock throughout the entire bridge. The noise was deafening, not only the sound of the explosion, but the sound of metal being wrenched and contorted in ways it shouldn't be. James didn't see it but the explosives in that pack ripped apart the roadways and severed cables, but he certainly felt it; the whole bridge shook including the tower that he was on. He hit the deck with his hands over his head and swore loudly, though it was unheard over the sounds of the bridge breaking below him.
He swore a second time as there was an even louder sound again, and the whole tower seemed to shake and lean over to the side. And just as suddenly it was over. Everything was still and James couldn't hear anything over the ringing in his ears. It was a few seconds before he stood up, and when he did he found the source of the loudest sound almost immediaty: on the destroyed side of the bridge one of the plunging cables had ripped away a huge chunk of the tower's facade, the other cable was still connected to the land side of the bridge.
James swore again and stumbled as he heard a loud creaking sound and realized that the tower was starting to lean downwards into the water. He ran over to the crate and began pulling things out haphazardly until he found was he was looking for - a military green bag designed to hold a lot of shit. After tightening the strap so that the bag would fit comforatabaly on him James began filling it by grabbing a weeks worth of MREs and stuffing them in the bottom. Next went ten magazines for the M16 with the other five getting places on his vest. Then he had a tough decision to make: did he take the MGL or the M24, or even neither? He was reminded of his time predicament again as the tower leaned over another inch, closer to the water's inky depths.
In the end he took the M24 by slinging it over his back and put about one hundred of the .338 rounds. On top of everything in the pack James put three blocks of C4 that he'd found in the bottom of the crate.
After hefting the pack over both his shoulders and making sure that it was ergonomically secure (it did weigh around sixty pounds now, after all) he put on a body-harness that had also been in the crate. James then headed for the unbroken side of the bridge and hesitated for barely a moment before starting down the cable.
Below him the undead horde was still pushing inexorably to the other side of the bridge, the ones towards the front not even hesitating as they plunged into the inky depths below. James lurched forwards and nearly fell over the side of the bridge as the cable jumped the slightest bit because of the previous tower's inexorable plunge downwards. He was almost to the top of the second tower when there was ear-splitting crack and James barely had time to attach his harness to one of the smaller nearby cables before the cable he was on began to fall downwards.
The last thing he saw was more of the bridge crashing into the water, the far tower falling over, and the blackness coming up to meet him.
Note:
Man, I take forever to write. If you bums who read this happen to notice any errors it's because I don't really proofread these all too much. If anyone were willing to do it for me that'd be awsome, but oh well. Before I go I ask that you check out my other story just for kicks if you have the time. Well, so long!
-R.T.D.W.
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