John O'Brien - Taken

Vance looks over to Gold Team. They are racing across the open ground firing behind them as they make their way toward Blue Team’s position. Vance directs his team’s fire to the sides as people are trying to catch up with Gold Team. He sees two trailing Gold Team members taken down from behind and are immediately engulfed by bodies. Their screams rise above the shrieking hordes racing across the compound from seemingly every direction. The strobes of Gold Team’s carbines flash through the night as they try to keep the onrushing mass of people at bay.

The stray thought enters that their attackers aren’t firing. Vance is confused by this fact but that is quickly pushed aside as he continues to add his rounds to the many streaking across the courtyard taking down dozens of the attacking horde. He wills the others of Gold Team to run faster but to no avail. Vance watches as the three remaining Gold Team members are taken down. The advancing mass slows as they pounce on the fallen members.

“Blue Team, disengage and over the wall. Now!” Vance shouts as more people join the masses. They are once more converging on him and his team.

“What about Gold Team?” One member calls out.

“They’re done for. Move! Now!” He calls out.

He watches and covers as his team pulls back and starts scaling the ladders leading over the walls. Vance is still confused about the lack of gunfire and really what is going on to begin with. The people charging his position are shrieking and screaming for all they are worth but not a one of them has a weapon. Through the charging crowd, he barely makes out huddled masses around where the members of Gold Team fell. A quick glance tells him two things: One, that they are done for and two, that it appears the people are bent over and biting at them. A part of his mind screams that he is seeing things distorted by the heat of the moment.

He keeps up a tremendous volume of fire while his team climbs. Still the mass closes in quickly. The click tells him it’s time to reload once again. The quick figuring in his mind, and with his vast experience, tells him they’ll be on him before her can jam another mag in and chamber a round. Even if he does manage that, there’s no way he’ll be able to hold all of them off. There’s just not enough firepower or ammo for that. His mind screams run but there is a part of him that wants to recover the bodies and make sure Gold Team is truly beyond help. The shrieks filling the courtyard make up his mind. It’s time to go.

He hits the mag release and runs for the ladders propped against the walls. The people after him are fast and he’s not sure he’s going to make it. The howls sound as if they are right on his heels. Expecting to be pulled down at any moment, he hears firing. He looks up and sees his team members at the top of the tactical ladders firing down on the horde closing in on him. The pops of rounds exiting barrels is barely heard above the screams just behind. The screams are a mix of eagerness and pain. He quickly throws his M-4 over his shoulder on the run and leaps for the first ladder he comes to.

Scaling quickly, he shouts, “Everyone over. Rally on the ridge.”

Reaching the top, he kicks the ladder to the side. Several people have already begun to climb after him. The ladder falls to the side. The others kick theirs as well and they jump to the ground. Screams and snarls sound loudly on the other side of the fence. He stumbles and recovers. Still not knowing what truly happened and only that they are in a fight for their lives, he heads into the dense undergrowth of the jungle. He feels better being in cover as he knows he and his team can lose their pursuers fairly easily. Speed is of the essence now though as he wants to get distance between them. The fence will slow the pursuit down and the team can go quiet later.

Shrieks, similar to the ones still emitting from the compound, echo in the jungle around him. The dense foliage makes it difficult to ascertain exactly where they are coming from but Vance and his team plows ahead following in the order they entered the jungle. They are noisy in their flight but that’s not Vance’s primary concern. They reach the location where they sat seemingly only moments ago overlooking the encampment. Vance pulls out his night vision enhanced binoculars and surveys the camp. There are six distinct groupings of the people who attacked them. A heaviness settles inside as he knows what they are grouped around. Others are streaking for the open gates and he catches a glimpse of some running up the rutted, dirt road. Shrieks continue to emit around the team; seeming to come from all directions.

“We need to move now before we get surrounded. Take us out quiet and slow,” Vance whispers to his point man. “Everyone pay attention to their areas.”

“They didn’t even fire a shot,” the point man whispers as he rises.

“I know. Let’s move,” Vance replies.

They move cautiously through the vegetation. Twenty yards and a pause to listen. They don’t have to listen too hard as the shrieks continue all around. They move through the jungle as if moving through a black hole. The sound of thrashing in the underbrush erupts behind them. They all turn toward it but see nothing in the greenish glow of their night vision. Hearts are racing and adrenaline fills each one. Faces, bright in their night vision and seeming to glow, suddenly appear.

Their pursuers lift their heads into the air in unison and shriek. The team has been found. Strobes flash off the surrounding bushes, tree trunks, and the vines hanging from overhead limbs as the team opens up. The faces quickly disappear in the maelstrom of fire the team puts out; many catapulted into the surrounding jungle. The team quickly disengages and the race is on again. They hear sounds in the jungle to their sides and behind as pursuit is continued. The ever-present screams continue to fill the jungle.

Their breath is coming quicker as they break through the dense underbrush. Vines grapple with their gear and bodies, attempting to hold them back, as they force their way through. The jungle itself has turned hostile. A small group enters their line of flight directly ahead. Vance, running just behind his point man, raises his carbine and fires. He places bursts on each one in sight and, along with his point man, clears their path.

The weariness is coming on quickly. Vance knows they can’t keep this pace up in this dense brush for long. He hears pursuit close but knows they have to stop for a quick breather. If they get completely winded, the game will be up and they will be on the losing side. He calls for the point to hold up. They all stand in a group with their hands on their knees trying to catch their breath. They all know they won’t have long to do it and must be on the run in a minute so all activity is focused on catching their wind.

“Get a claymore out of my pack and one other,” Vance tells one of his team. The whisper comes out in between pants.

He feels a tug on his pack and fumbles in his pocket for a fuse pencil. He keeps the short-timed ones in his upper vest pocket just for events such as this. The longer timed ones he keeps in a special place in his pack. He figures if he needs the longer timed ones, then he’ll have time to dig them out. Conversely, if he needs the thirty second or one minute pencils, well, those had just better be handy.

The shrieks and breaking of brush is close. He grabs the pliers out of his pocket, sets the claymores his team member hands him into the ground at angles but pointing mostly behind them, crushes the fuse pencils and quickly places them into the fuse wells.

“We have less than a minute. Go, now!” Vance whispers to the point.

The point man gets the idea and they move off in a hurry. They are still winded but feeling better than they did just a moment ago. They won’t be able to keep this up for much longer but they are alive and moving. The shrieks and sounds of pursuit follow.