“When there's no more room in Hell, the Dead will walk the Earth.”- George Romero
The light on Malcolm's rifle waved at the ground as he sprinted. He checked his ultility belt and realized that he only had two magazines left. Choosing to save them, Malcolm chose one of his grenades; after dropping it, Malcolm heard an explosion and ripping of flesh.
When Malcolm looked back, expecting the enemy to be in pain, they pressed their advance like a horde of Viking Berserkers.
He touched his earpiece, “FIREBALL! EVACTUATE THE TUNNEL!”
“WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON!?”
“JUST DO IT!”
He had no choice but to press his retreat. He continued to gain ground on them, and he could finally see the divot of light in the distance. “I TOLD YOU TO RETREAT!” he screamed. “PUT THE WIRE UP!!”
It was clear that somebody understood him because the divot split in two with the other crossing to the side and then back over, slowly. “GET BACK GET BACK!”
Malcolm closed the gap, and he made a head-first leap, successfully clearing the barbs and rolling as he hit the ground. Malcolm’s impact almost slammed into the two guards, and he faced a petrified Second Section. The ravenous voices appeared in the periphery of the lights.
“GET THE CIVIES OUT OF HERE! MOVE!” Malcolm turned around, reloading his Crystal and looked at the machine gunners. “YOU TWO ON ME!”
The Staff Sergeant hesitated at first, then gave the command for the Second Section to fall back. They were just in time for the enemy to come within sight of the fence.
“WEAPONS FREE!”
Next, the LMG barrels rapidly sparked, unleashing a tight barrage which began to rip through the first line of the advancing enemy, making dark blood mist around them. Bullets tore through their torsos and impacted the enemy behind them. They seemed stunned for a brief second before they pressed forward with their demented comrades.
They started tearing themselves against the barbs and the wire hugged tightly around them, but they continued to push and pile themselves against the fencing and those in front. Malcolm finally began to discharge his rifle into faces, turning bodies limp and they became tangled in the wire; Malcolm shared bullets with one wrong face after another.
There was a creaking sound against the fence as the bodies dropped into it. Soon, the two LMGs were completely emptied, as was Malcolm’s magazine; he whipped out his Sig Sauer, Dominic, to fend the enemy off. The fence buckled and the two privates were in the process of loading fresh magazines. Malcolm aimed over the heads of the fallen and was less accurate than before, only dropping two.
There was no end to the horde.
Their sheer weight finally tipped the fence down. Mangled corpses dropped on each other and were tripped over. Malcolm was able to reload with the two privates and together they unleashed a new barrage at the trampling enemy. Soon, the pile of bodies reached half the height of the ceiling, forcing the enemy to crawl over their fallen. Malcolm emptied his magazine before the other two.
“FALL BACK!”
They turned around as the great pile before them shifted forward like a landslide due to the buckling pressure.
The three of them retreated with the chorus of ravings growing distant. They were closing in on the hovel. As Malcolm’s light shone, he realized that people were packed in single file as they tried to evacuate. Flashlights scattered around the room as Johnson’s Platoon escorted the civilians. A squad came running towards them.
“NO!” Malcolm screamed, “GET OUT OF THE TUNNEL!”
“NELSON! WHAT THE FUCK!?!” He could hear a familiar voice echo from among the troops. By now, Malcolm had intersected with the squad.
“ON ME! THREE CROUCH! THREE MORE BEHIND THEM!” Malcolm then directed his attention to the two he retreated with. “I WANT YOU TWO BEHIND THE SIX! GET READY TO COVER THEIR RETREAT!”
Like ants the grunts obeyed their master. The formation was quickly established as the Machine Gunners reloaded their weapons. Daniels appeared from the black as Malcolm reloaded Crystal. “NELSON!?”
Malcolm hustled Daniels away. “MOVE THESE PEOPLE! GO!”
Beastly roars echoed closer and closer. Daniels stared down the tunnel in horror before turning around and hurrying the civilians. Malcolm snapped the chamber open, allowing a fresh bullet to enter. “THEY’BE BEEN SOAKING ‘EM UP! IGNORE CENTER MASS! TAKE THEIR LIMBS OFF!”
The first Berserker entered the view of the flashlight, followed by three, and soon they were shoulder to shoulder. All stretched their arms forward as if they were in grasping distance. Before Malcolm could give the order, one member of the squad panicked and let bullets fly. This set off a domino effect as the entirety of the fire team let loose their barrage.
“CONTROLED BURSTS!” Malcolm screamed, yet no one obeyed. The front runner was finally brought down. The fire team was not aiming for limbs, in their panic they defaulted to their basic instincts. It was not long before they ran out of bullets; there was no time to reload. Members of the fire team started to back away. One fell and another just turned to run.
“I SAID- FUCK IT!” Malcolm threw himself into the breach and fired at the enemy. Conserving ammo with head shots, he went along the lineup of enemies and downed the one per burst.
The Machine Gunners flanked Malcolm, and they unleashed their hundred round magazines into the crowd. These soldiers knew to ignore the center mass. They targeted the enemy’s legs, blowing knees off from under them. Together, Malcolm and his fire team dropped dozens, and the rest tumbled over the fallen. A loud snap indicated to Malcolm that he had discharged his final bullet. He switched to his sidearm and fired off a new barrage before his companions hit the end of their supply.
“FALL BACK!” He ordered, but when he turned to escape, the civilians were still exiting the tunnel. There were still at least twenty of them running, and this did not count the half of Johnson’s platoon that guided them.
Malcolm came to a halt. He looked back to see the ravenous enemy pressing their advance. The Machine Gunner to Malcolm’s right attempted a reload. Two Berserkers brought one down and the other attempted to bash them with his LMG.
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Malcolm ran up to grab his shoulder and shot the hostile on the ground. He then tugged the face of another hostile, removing its teeth from the crevice of the grunt’s neck. He cried in pain as Malcolm shot the Berserker; he then grabbed the gunner by the shoulders and started to drag.
“PLATOON! COVERY FIRE!” he bellowed, and a section ran to his aid. Malcolm dragged and watched as soldiers foolishly advanced past him, then were quickly brought down as the crowd descended. Malcolm stopped, firing rounds at an enemy bolting towards him. Malcolm then swung the fallen gunner over his shoulders, he turned around to retreat, and the exit of the tunnel was just a brief sprint.
With the private carried over his shoulders, Malcolm was careful not to run into the rest who retreated. The patter of footsteps was drowned out by the gunfight and the screaming. When he finally looked, only half the section was with him, and the monstrous chorus of bullets echoed down the tunnel. Dozens of flashlights illuminated from outside the mouth ahead of them.
Finally, after dodging another civilian, Malcolm was blinded by the combined lights. He was standing in the open and the echoes from the tunnel began to compress, sounding as if the enemy was already upon him. He looked at soldiers elevated on each side of the rail line and the two machinegun nests directly across. Civilians were ascending the ramp and troops provided the escort. Malcolm rushed to the end of the track and handed the wounded private off to the troops standing guard.
“CLEAR THE TRACK! EVERYBODY DOWN!” He dropped to his knees, as did the few soldiers still exiting the tunnel. “WEAPONS FREE, WEAPONS FREE!”
As the enemy appeared in the field of vision, every weapon was let loose. Bullets flew over Malcolm’s head and the sounds of the machine guns behind him were deafening. The poor soul who hugged the floor in front of the mouth was dived on instantly by the enemy. Six dropped as soon as they exited the tunnel and were tumbled over by the charging Berserkers behind them. They roared as bullets tore through them, bolting at anybody they could, and they came for Malcolm.
He picked his targets sparingly, only discharging rounds when they came within arms-reach. Three bullets dropped the first one, two for the second.
Almost two dozen hostiles had fallen, one soldier was being mauled, and the crowd was thinning out. As the machine gunners ran out of juice, Malcolm advanced, after bringing down five more, he added to a trail of three dozen bodies. The crowd thinned to the point that the remnants were in the process of being chewed to bits by the orchestra of military-grade weaponry.
Malcolm felt safe enough to save the soldier from the mouth. He and another ran forward, checking to be sure none of the other hostiles were creeping out the tunnel, and Malcolm pressed his gun behind a Berserker and blew the brain out.
The Sergeant assisting him bashed another’s head with the rifle stock, she turned around and lunged at him, forcing him to wrestle against her with his gun. The other three noticed their fallen friend and turned their attention to Malcolm. He gunned down the two that readied themselves to jump, while the other went for the soldier’s legs.
He screamed and collapsed, forcing him to draw a pistol and kill the attacker at his foot while nearly blowing it off. It was then that the woman who tackled him began snapping towards his face.
Malcolm ran forward and pulled her by the hair which gave the Sergeant the free space he needed to press the gun into her torso and fire repeatedly. She screamed but never faltered, a red spittle flew from her mouth into the Sergeant’s face. He then pressed the gun to her chin, and the fired round which fortunately didn’t penetrate the skull.
“WHOA WHAT THE FUCK!” Malcolm pushed the limp head to the ground and kicked the Sergeant. “YOU COULD’VE KILLED ME! YOU’RE LUCKY I DON’T RIP YOUR RANK FROM YOU!”
“LOOK WHAT SHE DID TO ME!” The Sergeant named Stevens held up his wounded left leg.
Malcolm’s eyes were deeply black. “WE COULDV’E SUBDUED HER!” He looked around before helping another soldier who had been mauled. More than forty corpses lay about, each had exit wounds in the multiples and bled in a collective black pool; it was the black which haunted the room.
The private looked worse, his face pinched in horror, both arms and legs were bleeding with fingers missing; his eye was blacked, and temple was bruised.
A final burst of gunfire echoed down the tunnel, catching Malcolm’s eye. He ejected his magazine and loaded the last one in his pistol.
“Platoon C! On me!” Very slowly, soldiers descended from both ramps to his flank. Huddled together in a line formation, they reentered the tunnel. Malcolm led the advance with Beauregard at the tail. Malcolm listened closely for the sounds of hostiles. His ears continued to ring, his mind began to play tricks on him, and every track the flashlights shone over was suspicious.
“COMET!” He cried out to any survivors with no response. They continued their march with fingers on the triggers. He was too focused on the prospect of more Berserkers or mangled survivors to count the steps.
“COMET!” he screamed again.
This time a response came from the deep black. “STAR!”
They all came to a halt as they heard the patter of footsteps echoing towards them. The figure revealed itself in the light and it was a disheveled Lieutenant Daniels. He kept one hand on the back of his neck and the sleeve on his left arm had been torn; his weapon had been dropped somewhere in the hovel. “I’VE GOT WOUNDED!”
Malcolm ordered the Platoon to double time it. Daniels briefly vanished from view; Malcolm and the Platoon entered the first hovel. The sounds of crying became apparent as the flashlights shone over at least ten dead friendlies. There were eight soldiers scattered throughout and against the wall, which did not include Daniels. As Malcolm scanned the perimeter for more casualties, one soldier with a ripped throat was spotted near the entrance to the tunnel’s next portion. Another casualty writhed on the ground in agony as she clenched a wound on her face. Daniels tended to her, and the Platoon dispersed to check on all survivors.
“You two, keep watch.” Malcolm volunteered some grunts to patrol the next tunnel. He made his way over to Daniels and the injured woman, a specialist named Rook. Half her face was covered with her right hand as she cried.
“I need to see it…” Daniels told her as he held one hand, “I need to see how bad it is…” he pulled her hand off the face and he nauseated at the sight. Her right eye socket had been gouged open with shards of skin and flesh hanging down her cheek. “...Jesus….”
“Your hurt too.” Malcolm said, eyeing the teeth indentions on the back of Daniels’ neck and the bleeding tear on the side of his left arm; black stains colored both it and his torso.
“I’ll live...We gotta get these people out of here. At least half of us got hurt when most of the crazies followed y’all.” Daniels begrudgingly answered. “We got lucky...”
“I guess...”
Daniels changed his focus to Rook. “Hey…Everything’s gonna be okay. It’s over now….”
“…At least a quarter of them didn’t make it…” Malcolm hollowed. “Bravo has a new Captain now. I gotta go find out who and get in touch with Casey…if I even still can.”
“Why wouldn’t you?”
“Because last I heard, they were under attack.”
Daniels shot him an awkward glance.
“I finally heard from the medic…” Malcolm elaborated. “…It sounded bad out there. Dongducheon is under attack, meaning other cities will be. We need to assume the other tunnels are dealing with what happened here.”
“…Where’s Javier?” Daniels finally asked.
Malcolm’s eyes dropped to the ground as his fists clenched, “He tried to be a hero…that’s what happened...We ordered the rest of Bravo to drop, and one of them bought it. Javier died trying to save him.”
Daniels looked back to the wounded specialist beneath him and the field of bodies around. “What the fuck was wrong with them?! They were fucking rabid...”
Malcolm grabbed Daniel’s shoulder, which Daniel’s forced off. Malcolm began to walk back through the darkness towards the light at the entrance. He came to a halt and found himself leaning against the wall while staring at his hand. Malcolm tried to take the glove off, but his other hand trembled; he pulled the glove off one finger at a time. After degloving, the whole of Malcolm’s hand was jittery like the tiny wings on a bug.
...I was right about everything...and I’m shaking…I told Mendez something was off and now the enemy is sending berserker units after us!
Javi…I’ve never seen anyone die like that…There was no method to it. Unless that wave was sent to shake us up…Which…by God they fucking did it.
Malcolm clenched his vapidly shaking fist as fingers began to twitch back and forth, cold drips moistened his palm and the raised hairs on his face reminded him that he had not shaved in two days.