Craig DiLouie: Pandemic

Ahead, a massive hospital had been demolished by missiles. A vast wall of smoke rolled into the sky above the wreckage. Fresh Pond Parkway was carpeted with red brick, white dust and flattened vehicles. The Apaches had done their work there, just as they had at Christ Hospital.

For a while, they didn’t see any Klowns. Then their luck ran out.

The crazies came from the east. Swarms of them fleeing the big fires. They ran at the soldiers from front yards and parking lots.

The M4’s recoil hummed against his shoulder. Crack crack . Brass rang on the asphalt. A body dropped, a woman coming at them swinging a shovel. Then another.

Wade stumbled. His ankle hadn’t had time to heal, and it flared with pain at each step. Rawlings put her arm around him and took some of his weight.

The bulldozer was gaining on them, a big yellow John Deere machine with glaring headlights. The squad’s rounds pinged and sparked off its massive steel blade. Klowns hung off the sides, waving spiked bats and Molotov cocktails.

Young set up his SAW and started hammering. One of the crazies tumbled off. Otherwise, the fire had no effect.

“Cease fire!” Wade called. “Save the ammo!”

Young glared at him as if to say, Who are you to give orders? But he did as he was told.

The bulldozer was coming fast.

“Gray! Hit it with the two-oh-three!”

Gray kissed a forty-millimeter grenade and loaded it into the launcher tube attached to his carbine. He took careful aim while the squad halted to provide security. “Firing!”

The bulldozer’s cab exploded in a massive fireball. Bodies cartwheeled through the air. The smoking rig veered off the road and plowed into a cluster of abandoned vehicles with a metallic crash.

The soldiers sent up a ragged cheer. They were panting with exhaustion. At last, night had come. The men flipped their helmet-mounted NVGs over their eyes. Wade did the same. The world brightened and shrank to a bright green circle.

“Booyah,” Gray said.

“Good shooting,” Rawlings said.

Gray frowned at her and spit. “Happy now, Sergeant? We had a good position back there. We could have held that place. Instead, we’re out here holding our dicks.”

Wade and Rawlings exchanged a glance. Was he kidding?

She said, “You can always go back, Gray.”

The soldier grinned. “Why would I do that? This is my squad, Nasty Girl. You’re a fucking reservist.” He pointed at a blocky building in the distance that looked like a school. “We’ll hole up there for the night.”

“That’s a no go,” Wade told him. “We’ve got darkness on our side. We need to find a car dealership or something and get some vehicles. We’ll be back at Hanscom by morning.”

Gray grinned. “You can always go on ahead by yourselves.”

He started walking toward the school. The rest of the squad followed. They were smoked. Whether they were stopping for the night or pushing ahead, they needed a rest.

Rawlings touched Wade’s shoulder. “Let’s move.”

They had to stick together, and they had no time for a pissing contest.

Gray signaled the squad to a listening halt outside the school. They heard nothing. He smashed a window with the butt of his carbine. The squad piled into a classroom. They cleared it and the hallway beyond then barricaded the door.

Wade sat on the floor and propped his swollen ankle on his helmet to elevate it. The right side of his face felt heavy and foreign, as if his cheekbone had doubled in size and turned to rock. His disjointed muscles protested every movement. His body felt broken.

Fisher sat next to him and lay on his side with a groan, shivering.

Rawlings sat on his other side and removed her helmet with a sigh. “We’ll get some vehicles in the morning.”

“No, we won’t,” Wade murmured with his eyes closed.

“Don’t give up on me, Private Wade. We can do this. Don’t worry about Gray. His M203 made him the hero of the hour. But he can’t lead this squad. He couldn’t lead ants to a picnic.”

“We barely made it three klicks in two hours. We burned through most of our ammo. Tomorrow, we’ll be traveling again in broad daylight, fighting for our lives. There won’t be any chance to find vehicles. Besides all that, by morning, I’ll barely be able to walk.”

“We can leave tonight,” she whispered. “Rest up. Hit the road.”

“We have to stick together. Maybe Gray was right. We shouldn’t have left the stadium. We left good men to die back there.”

“We would have died with them. What would be the point of that?”

“We’re dead anyway. At least at the stadium, we could have died with some honor.”

“Screw that and screw you. You can’t put that on us. We tried to get them to leave. Staying was their choice. Their blood isn’t on our hands. Me, I’m not interested in suicide. Where’s the honor in that? I’m not interested in dying for something.” Her hand probed until it found his. “Right now, I’m a hell of a lot more interested in living for something.”

They held hands in the dark. For the first time in weeks, Wade felt a sense of calm. He’d reached a decision. He’d tell her. She deserved to know.

“Even if we make it, I’m not sure I’m going back,” he said. “All my friends are dead. Sergeant Ramos is dead. He wasn’t like a father to me because my dad was nice, but he cared. He was tough, but it was because he cared. All he cared about was keeping everybody in the squad alive. He saved my ass more times than I can count in Afghanistan.”

He paused and went on, “I remember this one time, the Taliban totally lit us up. A textbook L-shaped ambush. Men went down instantly. Our lead element was cut off from the rest of the platoon. I dove behind a log and couldn’t raise my head. A PK ripped that log to shreds. Somebody shouted, ‘They got Esposito! They got him!’ Then Sergeant Ramos ran past me. We all got up to provide cover fire. A couple of Taliban had Esposito down in the gully. He was wounded, and they were dragging him away as a prize. Ramos chased after them, shot them down, and brought Esposito back. I don’t know how he did it. But it was something to see. It was really something.”

Wade paused again, lost in the memory. “He was like that. He gave the orders, but we always came first. He has a sister and a nephew here in Boston. He wanted to protect them because they were the only family in the world he had left. He could have walked off the job, but he stayed. He put us first. He put the Army first. And now he’s dead. He died in a fucking hospital we had no business being in. Now his family is stuck in this city. I tell you, if I get out of this, I’m going to pay him back. I’ll go Elvis. I’m going to find them and protect them.”

Rawlings squeezed his hand. “I understand.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. But don’t do it.”

“No?”

“We need you, Wade. I need you. Come here.” She touched his head and guided it to her shoulder. She stroked his hair.

“I’m so fucking tired,” he said. His mind began to slip away.

“Sorry to interrupt, lovebirds.”

Gray grinned down at them, still wearing his NVGs.

“Wade, you take first watch.”

“Go to hell, Gray,” Wade told him.

He closed his eyes and fell asleep in seconds.

Hanscom Air Force Base. Oh-dawn-hundred. Already hot and humid. The day was going to be a scorcher. First Battalion kicked off their fartsacks and got to their feet.

Lt. Colonel Lee searched for the big sergeant the men called John Wayne.

Sergeant Andy Muldoon, First Platoon, Delta Company. His squad was a rough bunch of bad apples. He had a reputation of taking misfits and turning them into hardened killers. He’d served seven tours on and off in Afghanistan and had been decorated three times. The Taliban knew his name, and they’d been afraid of him. The war had turned him into the type of man who knew he could never go home. He was on American soil again, but home was gone.