Plagued

It was like a sun had exploded in a shell merely a few diameters wide, and the light poured into the dark space violently with a misty blood red hue. It was intense and hard, scraping at the corneas of Andrew Collins. The PFC squinted, unable to shield his eyes with his hands because the weight of the rifle foamed casing cradled in his arms held them down.

The little red light pierced roughly into the darkened room of the aircraft. The men stood from their chairs as Andrew did the same, and Major Hanson stepped forward and pressed the controls next to the drop door. It came open and air whipped at them all sharply before exploding onto them as the door opened wider and wider with time. They peered out into the night. It was so dark that they couldn’t even see the clouds or the earth under them.

Hanson turned and faced his men, his eyes glancing at each at theirs through the shatter proof glass of his gasmask. He made a fist and pressed it to his heart. The others started checking each other’s backs, fiddling with the packs and equipment there, but most of all the parachutes. The Major held up the fist on his heart next to his head and straightened it. Each paratrooper gave thumbs up, except for Severson, who nodded gently.

Hanson nodded back and turned to face the black abyss of the moonless night. He jumped into it. One by one, they all followed without hesitation. They leapt fluently, swiftly. As a dancer moves like water on the stage, they did with the night air. Andrew jumped into the darkness, and faced head first to the ground thousands of miles under him.

He couldn’t see any of the others around him whatsoever, but it didn’t frighten him. Neither did the mission. He had done countless ops with this team, dozens of them snatch-and-grabs. They were hardened; experienced. And Andrew had seen the creatures they were sure to face before. His fear of them had died long ago, ever since year two of the infection. It since then had been replaced with anger.

The air engulfed him tightly, restricting movement. The ground was getting closer now, so Andrew forced his hand to his chest and felt for the strap. He found it easily, it always being in that same spot, and he pulled on it. The world suddenly came alive and the dreamlike trance of the way down passed away as the parachute opened out into the world. Andrew jerked and was suddenly right side up. He saw the ground coming fast, and the tip of a tree past by. Damn.

A violent tug erupted from the strings of the parachute as it caught in the tall oak, and Andrew was yanked hard. He took a few deep breaths after the strain on him past, and he looked around. He was in the middle of the forest, in a tree. Perfect. He peered around, but it was too dark to see anything. He couldn’t make out how high up he was, and could barely even see the tips of the branches. Andrew reached for the detach on his vest and grabbed hold of a thick branch nearby. He detached the parachute and gravity come alive more angrily than the moments before. He scrambled and strained against the branch and tried to pull himself on it. He got his knee there before it gave way and snapped from the rest of the oak, and Andrew fell to the ground. Panic consumed him. But then he hit the ground almost immediately, the branch next to him. He felt nothing broken and jumped up as fast as he could, quickly drawing his sidearm and pointing it into the darkness.

He breathed deeply and scanned. He glanced up and saw the parachute hanging only a few feet from the ground. He sighed and holstered the weapon, and began to silently uncase his rifle.

Andrew was set, and after finding his night vision goggles and checking his compass, he moved into the night.

The forest was a long trek, and Andrew had taken two very cautious hours navigating it before he come upon something manmade. The bypass in front of him was littered with derelict vehicles and utter silence. Andrew felt a shiver shave across his skin, but he continued on the path.

He walked, his world still green, and aimed his weapon at the nearest cars as he passed by. It was quiet, but some doors remained open. Some had broken windows and some had been raided, but besides that-

A crunch. Andrew stopped dead cold as he realized he’d stepped in broken glass. He looked around like a vulture looks when eating a dead animal out on the prairie, constantly suspicious of being watched. Nothing happened. Silence consumed.

Andrew sighed quietly and turned back on his path through the bypass to the other side of the forest it cut through.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Andrew snapped around at the car. It beeped, signaling a door had been opened. It come from within the vehicle, but it was so utterly quiet in this place that it might as well been gunshots. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. It was a red minivan, scraped and dented violently at the side, its recent history screaming that a car crash had pinned it in the mess of cars. The door to it hung wide opened, but its hood faced Andrew. All remained quiet. Andrew stared down the door and the beeping ensued. It was a bomb blast every single time to Andrew. He grinded his teeth hard and continue to aim the weapon at the car door.

A wet sliding sound faintly beamed out from within the car, and a pale, scratched hand slipped and dangled under the car door, which was blocking any other view. It held still. Through the windows, Andrew saw the seat belt strain against something that must have been ducked down, because he couldn’t see what it was. It stretched a bit, and then stopped. Stretched some more then stopped. The beeping continued and Andrew slowly backed away, careful on the broken glass. Ten meters into the forest again, he could still here the beeping.

Andrew moved swiftly through the night until he found way point Bravo. It was a small clearing within the forest, its grass stretching up and yawning to the sky. No one was there. Andrew risked a whistle, but nothing sounded back at him. He was somewhat grateful for the silence now though. But his team wasn’t here, where they were supposed to be. Andrew felt another shiver. He trekked to a tall tree, with thicker branches than the one he’d landed in a mile away. He rested some of his gear against the tree, including his rifle and his pack. He wouldn’t call on his radio and kill the silence for his teammates. Wherever they were, something had to be going on, because they were never late. Not all at the same time.

Andrew climbed the tree and tided a rope to the trunk and him so he wouldn’t fall out while he rested on the thickest branch. He stayed awake for another hour, waiting, but nothing happened. He fell asleep.

Andrew woke up to a sound and jerked. It was dawn, and the sun shined a beautiful sunrise through the sleeping oaks. Andrew like this sunrise. Maybe it was the fact that nature had seemed to take over the land since people had stopped living here that made it so dazzling. Andrew smiled and felt his stomach growl up at him. He reached back to untie himself, ready to get down and fish in his pack for something to eat while his eyes scanning the tree line of the clearing for his brothers in arms. He saw nothing, but again that sound emanated. It sounded like a faint panting, and it came from the bottom of the tree he sat right on. Andrew leaned slightly and peered down.

He flinched and nearly fell right off and into the hands of the creatures huddled around the tree. There were six of them, crawling on each other and quietly reaching up to Andrew, panting. One met Andrew’s eyes as his – its hand stretched so hard for him it trembled. It only had a thumb and pointer on it, while the rest was completely gone. It growled at Andrew; it was an inhumane gurgle deep from the throat. Andrew drew his side arm and shot it in the head and it fell off of the one it had piled on top of, resembling what once had been a teen aged girl. It groaned in puzzlement at the sudden loss of weight against it and glanced up, seeing Andrew. It reached for him, its sad eyes drooping. Andrew had almost reached down for the girl and pulled her to safety, until he remembered it wasn’t a girl anymore. He shot it too in the side of the head, and skull and brain splattered onto the others. It fell limp and the rest suddenly took interest, swarming on the body and the one before, and beginning to sink bloody, yellow teeth into them.

They all went for the stomach and arms, digging into the bodies mindlessly, burying their faces in like one would snuggle into a pillow, and they ate. They tore intestines out, dangling wetly in the sun raised light, and chewed on them fanatically. They appeared to become more active and violent the more they ate, and they soon were devouring the bodies in quick time. Andrew aimed at each one at a time and fired a single round into their skulls.

The bodies lied motionless now, and all was silence again. Andrew stayed in the tree looking at the scene. Bloody skeletons of the two that he’d first killed reddened the ground beneath them. The girl he’d shot second was all stained bone and stringy tissue, all but her head, which remained untouched, other than the chunk missing out of the side from the gunshot. She looked right up at Andrew.

Andrew came down the tree and found his pack. It was still perfectly nestled against the tree trunk his rifle. He wasn’t hungry anymore.