I have a short story in this universe I've knocked up over the weekend that I'd like to share.
Day #2
The lieutenant gathered the four of them together as they mustered before going on duty.
“Just a quick one, guys.” He was a friendly, easy going officer. “I’m sure you’ve all heard things concerning Cambridge and the civil unrest going on there. Forget all the nonsense that has been said: I know there’s been some silly stuff going ‘round. It doesn’t, and isn’t, going to effect us at all here at Lakenheath.
That said, the base is on lockdown in terms of entry and exit.
No one is going out today. No one is due to come in either. You four will be on the Second Gate and it’ll be a quiet duty for you with any dramas sure to be on the Main Gate. As you can expect, there’ll be someone who just has to leave for whatever reason they can think of. The general though has given the order that everyone stays in and that’s just how it’s gonna be.”
Airman Banks raised his hand. “Sir?”
“Go ahead, Tim.”
“Is it true, L–T, that the Brits are sending in soldiers? That sounds a bit much for ‘civil unrest’, doesn’t it?”
“I’d imagine,” the US Air Force Security Forces lieutenant answered, “that those soldiers are from their Territorial Army. That’s similar to our National Guard back home. They’ve gone in today from what I’ve been told and I’m sure that by tomorrow morning at the latest, most likely tonight, that’ll be the end of it. We can open the gates back up then.”
Another one of the Defenders (the nickname for the Security Forces) had a question too. This time it was Airman Young. “Have we got the Bobbies on the gate, Sir?
The lieutenant nodded. “There’s two of them out there as usual on the Second Gate.” He grinned before adding to that. “Jack, you know they aren’t Bobbies with the silly hats that their cops have down in London. There’re civilian security.”
“Yes, L–T, okay.”
RAF Lakenheath was an American airbase in East Anglia. It was solely operated by the US Air Force with a mixed wing of F-15C fighters and F-15E strike aircraft. Two-thirds of the wing was in the Middle East, gearing up for an expansion of the War on Terror, smashing the Axis of Evil to pieces, when the time came for that to happen. While many of the aircraft were away, the base was still a hive of activity. There were training flights by other aircraft and visiting aircraft too. Lakenheath was home to thousands of Americans, many of them family dependents. It was Little America inside with countless creature comforts that reminded everyone of home located within the base. Perimeter fencing ran around the edges. There were anti-vehicle ditches in selected places. Three gates were along the perimeter. The Main Gate and the Second Gate were beside the A1065 main road, a link which went down to the nearby RAF Mildenhall – another American airbase – to the south as well as up northwards deep into rural Norfolk. There was a third smaller gate to the west though that was usually shut. The Second Gate was mostly for deliveries and, like the Main Gate, had security guards from the MOD present. Those weren’t military policemen, nor policemen of any kind, but just security to deal with incidents where the American airmen who manned the armed security force weren’t needed. As to the latter, they were from the 48th Security Forces Squadron. Company-sized, three quarters of the regular personnel were in Saudi Arabia during May 2002. The remainder were joined on a rotating basic by other airmen from the base to help make up the numbers. The mission was to ensure that intruders and even suicidal extremist attackers would be kept out.
Sergeant O’Reilly led the men away, all of them carrying their M-16s.
“Have a good one,” the lieutenant told him, “and I’ll see you later when I’m doing my rounds.”
Senior Airman Quinn – he had the rank equivalent to an Army corporal – looked too like he had a question for the lieutenant but said nothing like his sergeant hadn’t either. The two of them had their orders and had listened to what they’d been told. The base was on lockdown but there was nothing to worry about.
Cambridge and whatever weirdness was going on there was a long way off. It wouldn’t effect them. O’Reilly wasn’t sure about that.
It was a wet but warm afternoon. The road outside was mostly quiet. O’Reilly and Quinn both speculated that it was shut with either police or soldiers having stopped its use by anyone other than military traffic. There were various trucks which went down in, all heading south, and all of them green. In twos or threes they went past Lakenheath without slowing down. Young was up in the Tower. That was nothing of the sort, just a raised platform ten feet up and made of scaffolding with a ladder. It had the name in jest though: while none of the four men here today had given it that they liked regardless. From up there, the farm boy from Iowa had a bird’s eye view of a wide area. In a combat situation, the Tower would have great value too.
“Helicopters, Sarge. They look British to me.”
“Are they coming towards us, Jack?”
“No.”
“Then,” O’Reilly called up to him, “I don’t need to know.”
Biting his subordinate’s head off wasn’t what O’Reilly usually did but these weren’t ordinary times. He was worried. He’d heard about Cambridge. It wasn’t that far off at all. Something seriously wrong was there, wrong enough that the general who commanded Lakenheath had shut the airbase down. None of this was normal and it was, though he’d never openly admit it, frightening.
“It’s Al Qaeda, you know that, right?” Quinn was standing beside him, looking out towards the road again.
“What?”
“That’s what’s going on there, Billy. First they did Nine Eleven, then there was the guy with the bombs in his shoes on that plane and now they’ve done something here.”
O’Reilly shook his head. “Don’t be silly. It’s not that, Owen: it’s something else.”
“Drugs then. Maybe someone got a bad dose of Acid and passed it out… you know like to friends and strangers.”
Looking at him like he was crazy, O’Reilly once again shook his head.
Banks was behind them. “Sarge,” he said, “I think Owen’s had some of that bad gear himself because he’s talking utter nonsense. Which, I know, isn’t unusual, but today’s something special.”
Quinn told Banks to stick it where the sun didn’t shine in rather explicit terms.
The two of them laughed. Quinn didn’t.
“What’s so funny down there?”
None of them answered Young. They all went back to their watch instead, standing around behind the closed gate.
O’Reilly tried to take his mind off the whole thing. He thought about his girl, a local lass. She was a waitress in a cafe off-base, an English girl who liked Americans. There was a rumour that that was what she was exclusively into. Hence why O’Reilly had sought her out. He had a girlfriend back home in Buffalo but the waitress was quite something.
She lived and worked in Newmarket. That was just down the road from Cambridge, half the distance from here to the city. Thinking of the distances, his mind went back to his concerns over what was going on out there.
O’Reilly couldn’t shake his fear that not only was she going to be the sticky stuff if everything he’d heard was real, then it would be here as well not long afterwards too.
Several more hours passed. The rain stopped and Young called down that he could see smoke rising off in the distance.
“Where?” O’Reilly called up to him.
“Not sure, Sarge.” He was holding his binoculars up. “Somewhere south… maybe.”
With a groan, O’Reilly climbed the ladder.
Banks was standing near the bottom as his sergeant went up. “Be careful. You’re not as young as you used to be.”
O’Reilly gave his not funny fellow Defender the middle finger. He was still in the prime of his life!
Taking Young’s binoculars off him when up top, O’Reilly tried to see where the fire was. It was to the south, down near Newmarket too. What was burning he didn’t know yet something was.
“Car coming up the road. Up from the south.” Young tapped him on the shoulder as he said that.
O’Reilly was soon back down on the ground. The car, a white family-sized vehicle, had stopped outside the gate. The two civilian security people were over next to the driver’s side yet neither of them was telling the driver that this was a closed military facility and that he needed to move on.
“What’s going on here?”
Neil, the big guy who was known as ‘Arnie’ because he looked a heck of a lot like the actor Schwarzenegger, turned around. “This is my cousin.” He nodded towards the driver. “You all should listen to what he has to say.”
“No, you need him to move his vehicle.”
The other security guard, Tracey, was having none of that: “Yank, let the man talk, will you?”
O’Reilly gave her a foul look. She was an unlikeable woman at the best of times. The way she’d spoken to him now wasn’t going to change his mind at all, just harden it in fact.
“No. Move your vehicle.”
The driver got out of his car instead, leaving inside a woman O’Reilly though was either his wife or girlfriend.
“Do you know what’s happening back down there?” He directed a thumb down the A1065. “There’s people running around ripping each other to pieces. You ain’t never seen anything like it in your life. It’s… it’s… it’s f***ing madness. There’s men, women and kids doing it. Coppers and soldiers are the same too, once they get infected with what everyone else has got.”
“Al Qaeda, like I said.” Quinn had wandered over.
“No, mate, not at all.” The driver was adamant that it wasn’t that. “Look, I don’t know what you lot have heard, what they’ve told you, but there’s some sort of virus. It’s like rabies but not any kind of rabies I’ve seen before.
I’ll tell you what happens. Someone has got it. Their eyes are red and their face is full of rage. Hatred, the psycho kind. They come running at you, fixated on you and bashing themselves against anything in their way too. They start tearing into you with their hands and teeth, ripping people to shreds if they get the chance. Then on to the next one. There’s dozens of bodies back there.”
A squeaky voice came inside the car. “Tell him about the others, Colin, those puking blood.”
“Yeah, like I was saying, there’s squaddies and police doing it now because they’re infected.
Listen, right, because this will save your life.
When they’re not ripping people into bits, they’re throwing up blood in people’s faces. I’ve seen it. With my own eyes. Get that in your face and, within like ten seconds, maybe more, you’re one of them. That’s why there’s kids doing it too. Because it’s an infection. It’s in the blood I think and it’s spreading.”
“This is the biggest load of rubbish I’ve ever heard.” Banks had come over as well. “C’mon, pal. Go tell your fairy tales to someone else and do what the Sarge says and move your car too, okay?”
The driver shook his head. “If you guys stay here on this spot, you’re dead. All those squaddies back there, the dead ones lying in the street and the ones running around looking to kill now, all had their guns and it did them sweet F. A.” He turned to his cousin as he opened his car door. “Neil, are you coming with us? You can bring your friend too if she wants.”
Tracey started getting in the car with that. Neil turned and looked at O’Reilly before he did so. “I’m sorry, but I believe him.” He got in too.
“I knew those two were getting it on.” So Quinn pronounced. “I’ve told you guys that before. Now they’re abandoning their posts and running away together. It’s disgusting, that what it is.”
O’Reilly heard him but opted not to reply. He watched as the car drove away and saw that on the rear of it, there was a lot of red liquid spread across the paint work.
“Is that blood, Billy?”
O’Reilly heard Banks’ question but didn’t answer him either. His eyes were fixed southwards, in the direction of Newmarket. That car had come up the road, one that was supposed to be shut, from there. He could see more smoke.
“Jack,” he cupped his hands to shout up at Young in the Tower, “how’s that fire doing?”
“Bigger, Sarge, much bigger.” He gave his three fellow Defenders a worried look after saying that. “There’s something up at Mildenhall too.”
“What did you say?” O’Reilly had only heard part of that.
Quinn had heard it all though. “He said there’s something going on at Mildenhall as well.”
O’Reilly walked away from the road and back towards the Second Gate with its tower. “If there is, we’d be hearing about it.” He said that when he was close enough to Young so he didn’t have to shout. Maybe the younger airman was about to say something in reply.
Before then though, a siren started to wail. It was in the distance, coming from where Mildenhall was, and sounded like the intruder alert siren. O’Reilly joined his three guys in looking in that general direction, seeing nothing of course.
“Gunfire too!”
“Someone mixed some L.S.D. with some P.C.P. Most likely a chemist working for Bin Laden. Maybe they wanted to make it look like rabies too. Bring down the Free World like that.”
“What an earth are you blabbering on about, Owen?” O’Reilly put his hand up to silence any more nonsense from Quinn. “Tim, you really heard gunfire? I didn’t.”
Banks nodded. “You’ll hear it again in a minute if you just…”
He didn’t finish what he was going to say there. Not when there was automatic gunfire again. Short bursts of fire, the sound carried by the wind. O’Reilly wondered if it was just them hearing it here at Lakenheath. Even if that was the case, Mildenhall was linked to Lakenheath by all sorts of comms links. He took his radio off his belt, intending to call the lieutenant.
“Car!” Young called down. “Coming fast as lightning.”
They all watched as a red sports car raced past the Second Gate, this one coming up from the south as well. It was gone in a flash.
“Are you radioing the L–T, Sarge? Just saying, but you know you ought to.”
“I’m on it, Tim.” He was too though before he did, he had instructions for Banks and Quinn. “Let’s all get back inside the gate before then though.”
Hold fast and await any further orders.
That was what the lieutenant said. Yes, there was something going on down at Mildenhall but from what he’d heard, it wasn’t anything to worry about. Respectfully, because he was talking to an officer, O’Reilly had asked if it wasn’t serious, then why the gunfire? The reply was it wasn’t anything to concern them. Mildenhall’s own Defenders were addressing the situation. As to those at Lakenheath, the general’s earlier orders still stood. The base was in lockdown and that was that.
Young needed a bathroom break and Banks was sent up there to cover him. When the airmen went up, O’Reilly silently chastised himself for not sending Quinn up there. The man was still going on about Al Qaeda using drugs on people to turn them into rabid killers. He had a theory about how they’d spread it all too: black helicopters. O’Reilly shut him up once more with the offended Quinn saying that the history books would prove him right. He could be such a jerk at times.
There was another swapping over who was in the Tower when Young returned, saying sorry for how long he’d taken. He stopped halfway up the ladder and pointed in towards the base where several jeeps were. O’Reilly had seen them too and nodded back at him. Men were climbing into them, all carrying M-16s, and heading in the direction of the Main Gate.
“Whatever is going on, Sarge,” Banks was next to him again, “it’s bad. Those are all ordinary airmen so it must be.”
“I’m not disagreeing, Tim.”
O’Reilly thought about that. Enlisted personnel who worked a variety of jobs across the base, from the highly-skilled aircraft maintenance to the mundane tasks such as cooking & cleaning, were all carrying M-16s. They were all being directed to the Main Gate. They could be staying there or going off to Mildenhall. He didn’t know.
And no one was telling him.
Young gave warnings when first one then a second car drove past coming up from the south. Neither slowed down as they passed the Second Gate. The second had half a dozen people in it, maybe more. Its rear window was missing with someone’s legs hanging out the back.
“Was that guy one of ours? You know, in uniform?”
“I don’t know, Tim.”
“That,” Quinn declared, “was a Brit soldier. This is bad. I’m telling you, this is really bad.”
The siren from Mildenhall was still wailing. O’Reilly and his fellow Defenders heard gunfire again. They all looked up at the sound of an aircraft overhead as well though none of them saw it apart from Young.
“That was the R. A. F. It was a Tornado and, Sarge, it had bombs under the wings and fuselage both.”
Banks shook his head. “You’re joking right?”
“No, I’m not.” Young called back down. “I really am not.”
“Sarge,” Banks took O’Reilly’s uniform cuff and turned him away from where the two of them were next to Quinn, “what if that guy in the car wasn’t talking rubbish? Shouldn’t you get on to the L–T and ask about it all again? Like see if he’s got an update. We might be able to figure out if what we heard was true or whether that guy was just pulling our chain.”
“Maybe, maybe.” O’Reilly was unsure.
He was thinking about the waitress. He was thinking about Mildenhall. He was thinking too about Neil’s cousin and his insane story.
Some more time went past. Like they were in kindergarten, the others asked in turn to go to the bathroom: first Quinn then Banks. O’Reilly let them go and saw each return. Young had his eyes on more fires raging and shouted down that he was sure that part of Mildenhall was now burning too.
Quinn had an answer for why that was the case: “Al Qaeda.”
“Oh, shut up, Owen!”
A helicopter was up above. It was one of the Hueys out of Lakenheath and it flew away northwards. Of course, it was Quinn who had something to say about it.
“There goes our general. I bet he’s flying to Feltwell,” (that was another US air Force facility nearby), “or one of those airbases that the Brits have.”
“You don’t know that.” Banks had turned on Quinn. “It’s not right you starting rumours like that.”
“Owen, will you just shut up or…”
O’Reilly was cut off from what he was saying by a shout from Young.
“Sarge, you really need to know this.”
He cupped his hands to call back up. “What?”
“There’s a guy on a pedal-bike coming up the road.” Young told him that while with his binoculars up and looking at the A1065, not down to where O’Reilly was. “He’s pedalling like crazy, sweat pouring of him because he’s as fat a house. Oh, and he’s naked too, like in his birthday suit, just for fun it seems.
Two guys are chasing him. I’m mean they’re proper chasing him. I think they’re covered in blood or if not, then they’ve been dipped in a tub of tomato sauce. They’re either on those drugs Owen was on about or they’re as mad as hell because he stole their bike.
All three of them must have gone past the Main Gate. They’re coming this way now, Sarge. Oh, hold on, one of the chasers is a girl. Still, they’re all inbound!”
“Everyone, stand to!” O’Reilly had their attention. “Remember our mission. No one comes through the gate.”
It took less than a minute before the cyclist went past. He wasn’t stark naked as reported. The huge guy – he was otherwise just as Young had reported – had white underpants on. His feet were bare though and bleeding. Past them he went, not even looking their way. His eyes were back over his shoulder instead at the two chasing him.
White Tee and Goldilocks went past the gate too, running at full speed.
O’Reilly gave them those names in his head. The guy had a white t-shirt on and the woman had blond hair. They were fully dressed. They were also covered in blood, an abundance of it. He had a quick look at their faces and saw the madness, the hatred that had been described by the man in the car earlier.
“Angel Dust does that to people, makes ‘em nutters like that.”
Quinn, talking of P.C.P. as part of his Al Qaeda drugs conspiracy theory, said that rather loudly, too loudly in fact.
O’Reilly watched as first Goldilocks and the White Tee following stopped in their tracks. Each had a ninety degree turn to look back at the gate. It was robotic. In turn, each howled. It was unnatural, it was damn disturbing.
Then they came charging towards the gate. White Tee slammed into it first with Goldilocks right behind him. She stumbled at the last moment and fell into it before, quick as a flash, she was up on her feet. Both of them started trying to get inside.
“Back: stand back. This is a closed military facility.”
Banks said that as he started walking forward.
“Don’t you dare.” O’Reilly grabbed his fellow Defender’s collar. “Stay back yourself.”
The gate was two gates in fact, ones which swung inwards to meet each other to close off entrance via the route in. The frames were solid steel and the wire mesh left one-inch gaps. There was razor wire at the top. Cut into the left-hand gate there was a door-sized smaller gate which they had gone out through earlier. It was closed now and against that, White Tee banged his fists, elbow and face. Goldilocks was over to his right with her fingers trying to tear apart the mesh.
Quinn had a whole load of expletives to give in summary to what he was seeing.
Banks stood there open-mouthed but saying no more.
Young called down about a rush of people at the Main Gate.
And O’Reilly? Well, he was just frozen in place.
White Tee howled again and then came the blood. He projectile vomited almost black blood all over the gate and onto the ground beyond.
“It’s like that film. You know the one with the girl and her spinning head.”
“Owen, shut the f*** up!”
O’Reilly screamed at him all while keeping his eyes on the two at the gate. The woman retched too. He looked right into her eyes afterwards. They were red. Now she was chewing at the mesh.
There was the sound of gunfire and then the intruder alert siren sounded. Young called down something but O’Reilly couldn’t hear it, not with the noise coming from behind him and with more howls from the two people in front of him.
“There’s more of them now coming THROUGH the Main Gate, Sarge.”
Banks saying that made O’Reilly turn away from the horrors in front of him and look over to his right in that direction. He couldn’t see anything nor make out through all of those sounds what was happening. Distracted, he missed what Quinn did while he wasn’t watching.
The other Defender approached the gate and pushed the tip of his rifle against the belly of White Tee. He held it out from himself, back from the blood-soaked crazy guy, and fired a single round. The M-16 had semi-auto and automatic capabilities so a single round shot out of the combat rifle was easy to make.
White Tee didn’t go down. He repeated his earlier projectile blood vomiting. Quinn had stepped right back though so none of that came anywhere near him.
“What did you do that for?”
“You told him to stay back and he didn’t. R. O. E. says I can use deadly force in the right circumstances and this was a case of that.”
It had been Banks, not O’Reilly, had instructed the two of them to clear away from the gate. That wasn’t the point though. Quinn shouldn’t have fired.
“Why,” Banks asked with alarm, “hasn’t he gone down? Why is he still standing, Sarge?”
O’Reilly had taken it for granted that White Tee would have fallen. He’d been shot at point blank range in the gut. He should be on the ground. No, instead of that, he was still bashing himself against the gate even with blood pouring out of him.
There was a shout from up where Young was.
“What?”
“Billy,” Young called back down, “there’s got to be ten, twelve of them inside now through the Main Gate. There’re spreading out. We’ve lost. This fight is theirs.” He had his rifle up, pointing it at distant targets.
“Don’t fire!” O’Reilly didn’t want him doing anything foolish like that. The Main Gate was some way off any any shots would be wasted. Between the Tower and there would be a lot of friendlies too.
“Sarge, I’m going shoot this guy again. And Blondie too.”
O’Reilly was going to tell him not to. But White Tee was still bashing himself against the gate. Goldilocks was throwing up blood again, coming from a face that she’d torn apart while trying to chew her way through the fence. What that guy in the car, Neil’s cousin whatshisname had said, came back to him. These people would kill or infect everyone if they got the chance.
“I’ll do her and you do him. Shoot from here, don’t go any closer.”
There it was. There the instruction was given. O’Reilly told himself it had to be done.
O’Reilly’s father was a cop back in Buffalo. He’d told his son plenty of stories in his time about what he’d seen and what he’d done on duty. Nothing had been spared from the young Billy despite his mother’s pleas. He was hardening his son, so the elder O’Reilly had said, making sure that he understood the world as it was, not as it should be. In one of those stories, one which O’Reilly remembered as he pulled the trigger, was one where his father had shot a robbery suspect several times. The man had kept on coming at him. He’d asked why. His father had told him that most people, normal people, when they know they’ve been shot fall to the ground. They’ve seen it on television and, without even thinking about it, they copy that. However, others stay up either because they don’t know they’ve been shot or they fight through the urge to fall… or they are just too damn crazy or high to do the right thing and fall down.
Goldilocks took four rounds before she was on the ground.
O’Reilly hit her each time in the torso. It was the last one that knocked her down where he reckoned he’d shot half her heart out the rear of her back.
White Tee had only needed one round.
“I blew his head off.” Quinn beamed with pride. “Forget the movie about the girl. You guys ever see Night Of The Living Dead? They said ‘shoot ‘em in the head’ and that makes the ones in that film go down.
Acid and Angel Dust meets a Five Point Five Six in the head! What does Bin Laden in his cave say to that, I ask? You know what National Command in D. C. needs to do, what Dubya and Rummy gotta do? They need to hood and shackle some of these lot and drop ‘em out of a Herky Bird over Baghdad!”
It wasn’t that movie. It was another film. O’Reilly knew that Quinn was wrong but who cared at this time? He didn’t. As to the rest of Quinn’s nonsense, he couldn’t give a damn about that either. What. A. Jerk.
The lieutenant was on the radio.
The laid-back officer was long gone.
“Everyone, back to the base hospital! Rally there. I say again, rally there!” There was gunfire which came with that panicked, maddened call.
O’Reilly attempted to reply to the call but got no answer.
“You heard the man.” O’Reilly addressed his guys. “The base hospital it is.”
Quinn stamped his foot on the ground. “I’m going nowhere. We make a stand here.”
Stunned by the sudden insubordination, O’Reilly had no reply.
Banks spoke up instead. “Owen, you heard the L–T and Sarge here has given the order. We go to the hospital. There’ll be people there who need us. Imagine if those lunatics get inside?”
“I’m not moving.” He stamped his feet on the ground again, like the petulant fool he was.
O’Reilly turned his rifle on him, now having decided to force the issue. Quinn opened his mouth to say nothing but didn’t because Young was down off the Tower and beside them, panting heavily.
“Sarge, they’re in the base, running everywhere.” He looked like he was crying. “Vicky and the kids! I’m sorry but I gotta go.”
And off he went.
Young sprinted off, rifle in-hand, deeper into the base. His wife and his two daughters, sweet little girls who everyone liked, lived on base housing. Banks called after him to no avail.
They were down to three with one of them refusing to move.
“Owen, you and Tim are coming with me to the hospital. We got the order from the L–T and that’s what we’re doing.”
Quinn shook his head. “Sarge, that isn’t happening. I’m staying here, staying at my post and not running off. You best stop pointing that rifle at me too if you know what’s good for you.”
O’Reilly balled his fist, ready to knock some sense into the airman. Quinn had turned away though. For the briefest of moments, O’Reilly thought he was going off in the direction of the hospital. However, he started climbing the ladder to the Tower instead.
It started raining just then. O’Reilly felt the first few drops of what seemed like a downpour. He turned to Banks: “You’re coming with me, Tim, right?”
“Of course.”
More rain fell. O’Reilly walked to the bottom of the Tower. He was about to shout up at Quinn to tell him that he was going to be for it when he was all over. The Defender would be busted back to the lowest rank, maybe even drummed out of the Air Force and sent back to his Florida trailer. Unless he came down now that was. The comments were rehearsed but before he made them, there was another howl.
It was Young. He was covered in blood, his rifle nowhere in sight. The airman was some distance off out in the open and slowly getting soaked. He was looking right at O’Reilly and Banks though.
Then he was running at them.
“Jack!”
That was all that O’Reilly could say. He did nothing either.
Banks shot Young several times. He walked rounds up from Young’s groin to his chest. Young fell and slid across the ground. He threw up blood but then lay still and silent.
“Sarge, he was gone two minutes max. Then he was one of them.”
“Erm… I guess so.”
There were more howls. More gunfire was heard too. Oh, and the rain kept on coming as well.
“You heard what Jack said about this fight being lost. He was right.” He gave O’Reilly a resigned look. “If we go inside the base proper, we’re dead. If we stay here, we’re dead too.”
“I’m not going up in that tower with Quinn.”
Banks nodded. “Neither and I, Sarge. Stuff him. I reckon these mad nutters will knock it down with him in it.” He walked over to Young when he said that.
“What are you doing, Tim?”
“Getting his spare ammo.” He said that like it was the most natural thing in the world. Then he pointed out beyond the Second Gate. “I suggest that we make a tactical retreat over there, Sarge: a ‘retrograde manoeuvre due to enemy circumstances’ is maybe another way of putting it. We go in those woods and we live to fight another day.”
“I don’t want to run, Tim. It’s not right. I just isn’t… oh, f***.”
Sprinting towards them was a woman. O’Reilly recognised her but couldn’t recall her name. She was an American like them, employed somewhere on the base. She was over there and then suddenly she was on top of Banks. It happened quicker than he could process it. Bank’s rifle went flying and the woman was tearing into his face with her hands.
O’Reilly might have screamed. He was frozen again.
“Run, you idiot!” Quinn shouted that down from the Tower. The woman heard him, looked up and climbed off Banks. She charged the base of the structure, shaking the whole thing. Then she went for the ladder. “Run!” Quinn called out again.
Finally, O’Reilly snapped out of it and regained himself. He did what Banks and Quinn had both told him to do. He ran.
He abandoned his post.
The Thetford Forest was across the A1065. It was an expansive piece of woodland. O’Reilly had been in there before. However, he was a city boy. He was lost pretty quick with no idea if he was heading north, south, east or west. He kept on going deeper into the forest though.
Carrying his rifle, O’Reilly had gone out through the smaller gate cut into the bigger one. He’d done everything possible to keep his hands clear of the blood on it from White Tee then stepped over that fallen man too. Gunfire and the still wailing siren had come from behind him. Two or three people were around the Tower with Quinn firing down at them. They’d been shaking it and O’Reilly had almost gone back to help him. Yet, one of them had come running at him. He’d slammed the gate and it had locked itself. Through the rain he’d run, into the woods like Banks had suggested.
A howl had followed him, urging him forward.
Time passed. O’Reilly followed no trail. He just went onwards, hoping he was getting further away from Lakenheath. Everyone back there was dead or soon to be and he could do nothing. That was what he told himself as he justified running away. What else could he as one man do?
He stopped beside a big tree, leaning against it to catch his breath. Thirst hit him. He had no water on him. O’Reilly’s mind searched for where he might get some. Could he drink straight from a stream – if there was one? He looked for one, trying to listen too.
Then came a scream.
It sounded like a woman. She was in trouble. She shouted too… and then there was a howl.
O’Reilly ran some more, fleeing again as he left people behind in need.
There was a second howl, this time much closer. He looked behind him and saw nothing. To his left was empty too. But on the right, a man was coming his way. The guy fell, got up and kept on coming. Frozen, O’Reilly looked at him. He saw the blood all over him. That was one of them.
O’Reilly shot him. He knelt and aimed, using one bullet to hit the man in the throat. There was a moment of panic when he thought the guy would keep on coming yet it was just his struggles. In death, that man wanted O’Reilly.
“That’s for Tim, and Jack too, you f***er!”
Screaming the insult at the dead man, someone who had nothing to do with their deaths, made O’Reilly feel good. That was gone in an instant though when he saw another figure coming towards him. He raised his rifle but thought of his ammo. He had enough… but what was enough?
O’Reilly started climbing the nearest tree. It was a woman this time, one with no clothes on her bottom half. She had blood on her face and the red eyes he’d seen before. He looked into them while he was above her. The tree was an easy climb for him and he was some distance up. She howled again, threw up some blood all over the trunk and then did something utterly stupid.
Headbutting the tree trunk put her on the ground.
“Are you dead?”
That question fell out of his mouth. He knew it was stupid but couldn’t help asking it.
If she was dead or unconscious, he didn’t know. She wasn’t going to tell him.
Staying where he was, O’Reilly looked down at her. There was a lot more blood than before. He snapped off a few twigs and dropped them. A few hit her with no reaction.
“Stuff it!” Down he went, quick and quiet. She didn’t move.
O’Reilly started running again. Where too and for how long he didn’t know.
He just kept on moving through the rain.
