Chapter 27- Field of Bullets

Chapter 27

The Field of Bullets

Sat-Com, somewhere in Virginia

The alarm caught every by surprise.  General Petersen was quickly to his feet, a generation of experience kept him sharp.  He turned and moved through the crowd towards Sergeant Wilcox.

“What’s going on?” asked one officer.

“It’s a fire alarm,” replied Captain Thomas, “no need to panic,”

“We need a fire control team out there now,” barked Petersen.  He put a hand on Sergeant Wilcox’s shoulder.  “You go with em, just in case,”

“Sir,” replied the veteran sergeant.  A five man team was quickly assembled and began to move out.  There was only a brief interruption to the work going on in the control room.

“What’s that on the board?” asked Petersen as the others got back to what they were doing.  There was a symbol that looked like an upside down pair of scissors.

“Helicopter down, sir,” replied Lieutenant Walker.  Petersen looked over at her, he hadnt seen her for a while.

“Which one?  One of ours?” he asked.

“It was the rescue chopper; Major Dalton’s bird is down,”

“What happened?” he asked.

“Sounds like it was a strike called in from the ground,” came the reply from Captain Thomas.

“They shot down their own bird?  What the hells going on down there?”

“We’re not sure sir.  Do you want me to get com-con status?” asked Lt Walker.

“No, no they are busy and we’ve got work to do and a vanishing window of opportunity to do it in,” replied the General.  “Someone keep communication open with Sergeant Wilcox’s team though,”

Petersen stretched his back out and felt the pain race up and down his arms.  He walked away from the main terminal and paused by Lt Walker for a moment.  He didn’t say anything, just listened to her relaying orders.

He then walked over to another officer, Lieutenant Davis.  “Lieutenant?”

“Sir?” came the jumpy reply.

“Who has been covering Lt Walker’s station?” asked the General.

“I think that was Sergeant Spriggs,” said the young Lieutenant.

“Who asked him to cover for her?”

“Colonel Sickles did sir,” replied Davis.

“Thank you, carry on,” said General Petersen.

“General?” asked Lt Walker.

“What is it?” he replied.

“I’ve got a call for you,”

“Who?” he asked brusquely.

“It’s a General Pierce.  He said you’d want to talk to him,” she said.

“I do actually, put it through to my ward room,” he said.  He began to walk up the stairs to the ward room again.  He opened the door and sat down behind his desk.

He opened the draw and took out his old M1911A1 pistol.  He chambered a round and then holstered the weapon behind him.

He picked up the phone and flicked the answer switch.

“Well, what the hell is going on?” he asked.

Elsewhere, Sat-Com

Sergeant Wilcox lead a five man team with fire extinguishers towards the epicenter of the alarm but it didn’t take long to realize that there was no fire.  There was a small pool of blood on the floor and another splash of blood on the wall.

Wilcox drew his side-arm.  The others, unarmed, stood around in a rough semi-circle. 

Wilcox turned to a junior non-com.  “Roberts, go back to the General and tell him the base has been compromised,”

“Sir,” said Roberts and turned to run.

“Belay that order” came the voice of Colonel Adams.

“Sir?” asked Wilcox.  He tensed his fingers around the pistol.

“There is a serious problem in the cargo bay, I need three of you in there.  The other two with me,”

“Hold on,” said Wilcox.  “The General told me not to take orders unless they were cleared with him,”

“I don’t have time for that chain of command bullshit Sergeant, we’ve got a job to do.  We’ve got a casualty who was wounded by a falling crate.  I need men to help stabilize him,”

One of the other men began to move but Wilcox put his spare out in front of him.

“Negative sir.  Get the General on the line, clear it and we’ll do whatever you ask,”

Colonel Adams was a fine officer, Sergeant Wilcox was always happy to follow him.  But an order from a General was almost the word of God.  Adams looked over the team and took two steps forward.  Wilcox raised the pistol but didn’t aim it at him, he safetied the gun as he went.

“Don’t take another step Colonel,”

“You threatening me?” asked the Colonel

“Sarge!” cried one of the others.

“Shut it,” barked Sergeant Wilcox.

“Put that weapon on safe and place it on the deck,” commanded Colonel Wilcox.

He took another step forward.

“Don’t step forward again sir,” said Wilcox.  He lowered the pistol and aimed at the Colonel.

“I’m putting you up on charges Sergeant,” said Adams, calmly.

“Sarge!” cried out one of the others.

“Shut up!” shouted Wilcox.

“Oh, I see,” said Adams.

“What?” asked Wilcox.

“Only one gun,” he said back.

Colonel Adams sprang forward and scattered the team.  One man was knocked to the side and collided hard with the wall.  Another was pinned underneath the Colonel.  Sergeant Wilcox dived to one side and another of his men simply ran for it.

Specialist Rowlins took a swing with a fire extinguisher and caught the Colonel flat in the face.  There was a cracking sound and a horrible splash of blood.  Colonel Adams waved a hand at Rowlins and stumbled away holding his face.

“Oh fuck,” said Rowlins.  Wilcox rolled to his feet and checked on the downed man who had hit the wall.

“Jesus,” said Wilcox.  “Rowlins, he’s….” Dangerous was going to be the word that finished that sentence.  Adams, or someone who looked like him, turned around and grabbed the wrists of the unfortunate specialist.  There were a series of cracking sounds and a terrible scream.

Rowlins fell to the floor, his broken wrists useless.  Adams stepped around him and walked at Wilcox.  Wilcox aimed down the barrel of the gun and fired, twice.  The first round took Adams under the jaw and threw his head back in a spray of blood.  The second caught him in the forehead.

A forty five caliber bullet is a big one, nearly half an inch wide.  A hit to the head would normally stop anyone or anything.  But Adams kept coming forward.  He reached out with long, clawed hands and grabbed hold of Sergeant Wilcox.

Wilcox put the pistol into Adams chest and unloaded the other five rounds in quick succession.  Adams was thrown backwards by the impact and slammed into the opposite wall.  Wilcox turned and ran.  Adams’s bloody doppelganger followed him.

“Get down!” came the shout.  Sergeant Wilcox threw himself to the floor.  There was the rattle of small-arms fire and he turned to see Adams blown off his feet.  At the other end of the corridor was Captain Thomas and four men, all of them carrying sub-machine guns.

“What the hell is going on?” asked Captain Thomas.

“We’ve been compromised,” wheezed Sergeant Wilcox.

Captain Thomas lead his men forward, a smoking MP5A1 in his hands.  He looked down the sights at Colonel Adams, by now a bleeding mass on the floor.  There was a strange burbling sound coming up from his body.

“Don’t get too close to him,” shouted Wilcox, still getting his breath.   Captain Thomas stopped short.  A long thin rope of red came out of the bloodied form on the ground and wrapped itself around one of Captain Thomas’s men.

The surprised soldier squeezed the trigger, rounds exploding into the wall and then down the body of the man next to him, who was blown backwards into the wall.  The rope then began to draw the man towards the bloody mess on the ground, which was still moving.

“Fuck me,” whispered Wilcox.  He reloaded his pistol as the air filled with gunfire again.  Three men opened fire, full auto into the thing as it drew the terrified man into its mass.  Sergeant Wilcox was too far away to tell what it was doing to him; all he could hear was gunfire and screams.  But he could see the soldier vanishing into it’s mass;

Captain Thomas and his men began to withdraw, reloading as they went.

“It didn’t die, what the fuck is it?” asked the Captain.

“I don’t know,” replied Sergeant Wilcox.

“Radio!” shouted one of the men.

“Thomas!” shouted Thomas into his radio.

“Captain, what’s the status?”

“Something, something is in here!  It killed Worcester,” replied Thomas.

“Okay, seal the corridor and then regroup.  Outfit a team with flamethrowers and burn it.  Burn the fucker.  Anyone who tries to break out seal, shoot on sight,” came the General.

“Sir?”

“Shoot on sight Captain.  There are no friendlies out there,”

“Yes sir,” said Captain Thomas.  “Okay, seal the corridor.  Burn them, we’ve got to burn them,”

“Who?” asked Sergeant Wilcox.

“Anyone, all of them.  Anyone who is in there, we gotta burn them,”