Night of The Dead- Chapter 6: The Flying Deer

" There's much more to this operation than a mere SAR, guys." I paused, awaiting their response before I'd continue. Their eyes did not move from their current position, aiming at me.
The cafeteria was rather dark, with only half the amount of flourescents on. What was lit exposed the remains of a canteen layout after years being abandoned. Aluminum steel tables and benches stretched across the hall, scattered and unorganized. The shine of the aluminum was already gone, now coated with oxidized stains. The other end from where we sat, was the food counter, now dark and empty, save the pot of coffee made by the Admiral for us, and some stacked up yellow cups. Of course, currently Crucist was leaning against the counter table, sipping on his coffee, looking back at me.

" The Admiral told me something we were not supposed to know. It was about Boston, and why many co-op teams didn't make it back alive."
Eyes grew wider, anticipating more out of me.
" Unknown entities roam the city, feeding on flesh. This might be caused by the fallout's radiation or contamination."
" So this is the government's conspiracy that the world must not know about. I bet you they want us to go there to make sure the information don't leak out!" Night Cat let out an almost roar of distaste. He was already walking around the hall, as if to calm himself down.
" That's why they insisted I tag along," Kheez too, was getting a little agitated.
" It's not just wanting to keep the information silent. It's wanting us to retrieve it at all costs so that they can find a way to fix the problem," I explained the rest, hoping it would help make them feel a little better.
" It's not just that. These useless governments always get the world in trouble, and make us clean their shit up!" Night Cat was already slamming the cup on the table.
" We are soldiers. Leave the politics to them, and we do our part of the cleaning up business," Crucist spoke. This caused a silence to hang again within the four walls we're in.

The helicopter was already waiting for us at the helipad. Dust and sand began to fly around when the enormous blades started spinning again. The four of us boarded the chopper, already armed with our guns and ammunition.
" Take it up!" I yelled above the loud roaring of the helicopter, pointing my fore finger upwards in a circular motion. The pilot gave me a thumbs-up, and the lift-off commenced. From the window, we could see the Admiral standing at the door. After a while, she turned around, and disappeared into the darkness inside the facility.
" ETA at drop point is 95 minutes. We will inform you guys a little ahead." I nodded at the pilot, and returned to my seat.
" I hope Pyut's doing fine," Kheez said.
" He'll be okay. It'll take more than some weird-ass 'unknown entities' to take that man down," Night Cat assured us all. He served with Major Pyut for many years, and he knew that man more than anyone of us.

Night Cat enlisted with the Ghost Team in the Marksman Division a little over a year after I did. The Ghost Team had a massive number of snipers, used as back up for the reconnaissance in their silent missions. Night Cat was instantly put under the supervision of Pyut, Sergeant at that time. Apart from the skills of marksmanship, Night Cat learnt a whole lot of demolition skills from him. Pyut was now a stationary explosives expert, now that those specialties were back in the market.

" Why did they name this the Gazelle, anyway? Not like a deer's gonna get up and fly," Night Cat interrupted my train of thoughts, commenting at the name given for the helicopter we were on.
" Why did they call you a cat? You don't have fur, do you," Kheez had already begun the another battle of wits with him.
I cast a faded smile across my face, and saw Crucist shaking his head, with his eyes already closed.

Night of The Dead- Chapter 5: Why a Firebat?

The group had already left. The room fell silent again, salvation from the never-ending witty insults thrown around just now. My work here was done as well. A little few minutes of leisure before the operation requires our attention. The silver case holding my gun was slapped close, emptied save the foam padding attached inside. My thumb rested on a sensorboard next to the handle of the locker,a reader confirmed my prints, and the door swung open. After pulling out a few green ammunition boxes filled with red tipped copper bullets, I laid my silver case inside, and slammed the aluminum door close. It was then when I remembered that Crucist was not to be seen around for a while.

Crucist was a Middle-Eastern born French nationality. He was brought into the same team as mine about half a decade back, Crucist didn't have anymore than bushcraft basics with him. What amazed the team, was his ability to memorize maps. He could do two medium-sized cities in an hour, and remember every turn for a week. Our head reconnaissance, Mega, instilled in him the knowledge every tactical analyst should have: the ability to move two steps ahead of the enemies.
He fell a little shy of the early twenties, Crucist. But his looks showed years of involvement in the warfare. The UWA's alliance with the world was nothing short of publicity. Nations were still mass producing weapons, in case the war would spark up again. Ghost Teams were then created to conduct espionage operations in other nations to gain information.

Our age would be somewhat similar to the Generation that lived in the World Wars I and II, where youths were forced into battle to defend their desperate politicians from hostile takeovers. The difference now is that they had a strong marketing strategy, to make younths want to enlist into the military. Plus, many were still torn by the previous Biowar, which left kids homeless and orphaned. We were some of the many.
The cafeteria was quite lively, as I approached. Outside, I met up with Crucist. He had a map in his left hand, now already rolled up properly. He must've had enough of Boston City already.
"How's your preperation going?" I asked, trying to keep uo with his unwillingness to share anything more than information with the rest of the team, including me.
There was a nod.
Crucist pushed open the cafeteria door and disappeared behind the mass of steel, now a little rusty, probably from the salt water around the island. Letting nothing get to me with Crucist ramaining so much of a soloist, I joined them inside. The hall was filled with Kheez, Night Cat, Crucist and myself. Yet it sounded like a platoon inside.
"Ixate! Good that you're here. Come over here!" Night Cat was apparently already in a heated friendly argument of wits with Kheez.
"Tell me something. This is an SAR, right?"
I nodded.
"Then why is this fireman here? Isn't he an SAD?"
The hall suddenly fell silent, save the slurping sound of Crucist with the cup of coffee at the other end of the cafeteria. It felt really uncomfortable, when all eyes seemed to have themselves fixed on me. Crucists' was of no exception.

"Kheez. Why is he enlisted in this mission?" I was staring at the sheet of documentation the UWA sent the Admiral.
" Firebats are normally used in SAD operations, that I am well aware of." the Admiral hesitated to continue. I could see her expression changed a little. There's still something we should not know, about this operation.
"It's ok, Admiral. I understand." I turned from the red table to face wall of glass windows overlooking the outside world. It was almost sunset. The team will be arriving anytime soon. The warmth of the coffee cup I held in my hands suddenly felt overwhelmingly comfortable. This would only happen when I can sense a bad mission ahead.
"You're not supposed to be informed of this." I guessed as much, when she told that. The govermnent was hiding something from us. From the world, more like. Telling us the truth would only bring forward retalliation. They didn't want that, did they.
"The government knows what happened to the people in Boston."
" You mean the soldiers?"
"I mean everyone."
Silence hung in the room. There was nothing there, save a long red table and a red chair, a round analog clock, and us. The orange sun was already casting its presence through the windows.
" Things roam the city now. Unknown entities. That's what the files describe them."
Things? They own the world's Alliance Treaty in their safeboxes, and that was all they could come up with?
" These things feed off human flesh. And they're extremely intelligent. Well, some of them."
So that was what the government was trying to hide from the world.
" So what do they actually want us to do?" I asked. Already a little frustrated. But then again, it wasn't her fault at all.
"They wanted the information collected by the previous team. It would help undo the damage caused by the fallout."
I didn't reply to that. I kept my eyes still at the horizon, already seeing the end of another day. The Admiral approached the door. Then she stopped. A brief moment of silence was given, and then she said something before she left. I let out a deep sigh, and returned to sitting position at the table. The clock above was already nearing 7 o' clock.

Night of The Dead- Chapter 4: Pre-Mission Brief

"Firstly, I would like to thank you all for being able to attend under such short notice. But I do assure you, the situation would have things done no other way," a women's voice spoke. With rich black locks flowing down to her shoulders, she had eyes elegantly placed with a sharp face. Her brows were high and thin, her lips shy in size. Below her extravagant looks was a uniform worn only by those of superior class. Admiral Ling has been serving the United World's military for years now.

Having started off as a peacekeeper during the biohazard war almost a decade ago, Admiral Ling made sure her existence did not go to waste, and fought tough political battles in order to attain worldwide peace. Much has been lost, and even though Admiral Ling's appearance would pass of as a naive young lady trying to make a difference, the Committee made no mistake in bestowing her a rank of such. Standing at half way between 5 and 6 feet, her stature did not lead an impression of any military kind, but her mind prove otherwise.

"Gentlemen, I would like you to be well acquainted to these few faces." Pictures of, in total six, men were projected onto a blank white screen. We could already label out the military kinds from the non-military kinds.
"This mission would be highly classified. These six men are currently within the vicinities of Boston City, as intelligence last declared. They have been sent there to collect information on the recent fallout 5 days ago, and were supposed to be back 2 days ago. Unfortunately, we've not received any radio from then since their departure."
Boston City was one of the few cities hit by the Antimatter fallout. They had one of the most bragged about powerplant situated merely miles away from the city, in which could store up to 15 ounces of Antimatter. Of course, all these estimations on how much Antimatter can a plant take were theories. No calculative equations could prove anything right or wrong, just assumptions closest to being correct.

"Ma'am." Night Cat raised his hand. "A Search and Rescue?"
Admiral Ling nodded. "Nothing more than that."
"If they.."
"If they insist to remain, reinsist they leave,"Admiral Ling interrupted Kheez.
"Information gathering was their primary objective, so they were sent there to retrieve data. Your primary objective however, is to search and rescue. This order overwrites theirs, and they are to have their objectives changed prior to your attendance."
The room was silent. No hand was raised. The roon was pitch dark, save the lights emmited by the small projector hung from the ceiling. Plastic seats with foldable little table-like platforms were scattered all over one end of the room, while the other end was one long table currently standing next to the Admiral.
"You are to leave at exactly 1700 hours. A helicopter will be at the helipad before that."
Nods ran across the room.
"Your mission duration will be no longer than 14 hours starting from departure, then it is RTB (Return to Base) with no extention. Do we have any questions?"
The room remained silent. Admiral Ling was currently stacking up all her files and compiling them together.
"In the event the mission turns sour, are we given the authority to alter the objective?" I had to ask. Many things would not turn out the way it was supposed to in a mission, so it was important to know where I stand.
"I chose you fellas because I know you'll do what is the most appropriate to achieve your objectives."

The midday sun was already burning dry every last remaining dew from the morning. The sea was enraged, sending fierce waves hurling into the rocks bordering the island from the waters. Every now and then, I would feel the zest blowing past me. Apart from all that, it seemed as though the world was silent. No gulls, no swallows. The three soldiers shown last night. They were from the Ghost Team as well. I knew them well. But the question I wanted to know was: How did they MIA (Missing in Action) from the mission? What happened to them? They were not rokkies, they were not cadets. These soldiers were the top class marines the UWA (United World's Alliance) had.

Having had enough of the sun, I decided to get myself prepared for the mission. I had to stock up on ammo and explosives: just-in-case senarios. I thought that if they needed rescuing, there must be something we can shoot at.
The armory room was, suprisingly, noisy. As I swung the door open, Kheez and Night Cat were inside. They were busy tuning their weapons and chatting, then they turned to face me.
"Ixate." Both called together, then returned to their work.
"Fine-tuning your guns? Its an SAR," I questioned.
"Those needed rescuing surely need someone to run away from, right." Kheez explained.
I nodded with a smile, while pacing to my locker. Unlocking it, I pulled out a huge metal case by the black handle.
"Fine-tuning your gun? Why?" Night Cat mocked.

Night of The Dead- Chapter 3: The Source

Anti-matter. The supposed material synthetically engineered to replace the energy-providing nuclear power. This newly generated material was a reputable finding, that it was able to undo all nuclear plants, giving way to a safer and non-contaminating world for the people. But like all new discoveries, scientists would normally not release them, not until they are absolutely proof of flaws. The financiers thought otherwise. It was time for profit to flow in. It was time to sell the Anti-matter.
The material was not safe. Not one little bit so. This synthetic powerplant can generate enough energy to light up metro cities 5 years over, with only one ounce of its mass. Enough energy to compete with 500 mega-tonnes of nuclear bombs. Enough energy to wipe out half a continent, more like. The Anti-matter is not stable, not as the advertisements said. It was particularly weak against one matter: Oxygen.
Carefully constructed from the biological stance of energy releasing and energy absorbing chemical reactions within, the Anti-matter was created with a theory that it would consume itself and then release its own power again, in an endless cycle to power the world. The chains of reaction were vulnerable to oxygen, the substance that would break all of the Anti-matter's bindings, causing the material to lose all its chemical stability.

Sales of this new found technology was unbelievable. Nations calculated and estimated billions of dollars of reduction on annual power supply expenditure, having used the Anti-matter to power their countries. Half a year prior to their launching, the development company was already cashing in profits clean to every other ounce of Anti-matter sold by the marginal prices of production.
The world rejoiced at a cleaner planet, one safe to live in, and one well preserved for 'our children, and theirs'. But the idealistic world of safe power generators, free from unstable nuclear plants, ended. 4 months back, parts of the American continent was burnt down. Six Anti-matter generating powerplants blew, and land the size of half the USA was flattened into wastelands. Billions died, innocent, all.
The ones responsible sat in the comfort of their luxurious offices, behind their expensive lawyers, and blaming the scientists for all the flaws. Panic drove every city in the world empty, civilians now seeking refuge in the poorer nations that were before this unable to purchase the Anti-matter for their own countries.
Reports filed, as rescue teams recovered something besides dead bodies of innocent lives at the accident site. A little less than full bodies, some have had themselves torn apart by.... claws. Rescue teams have also had little problems getting back.. alive. Special forces have been dispatched to the site to further investigate the sightings, and scientists were to find out what happened in there.

"There had been a biohazard meltdown in the accident site", some declared. Politicians and business people denied those claims, and started stuffing the scientists' throats with either cash or bullets. Havoc began to wreck the world, curious people voicing opinions that the governments were hiding conspiracies. The United World's Committee dispatched a team to the site to uncover evidences of biohazard fallout last week. Six men, three were highly skilled Bioengineers, the other three elite members of the Ghost Team created for extreme case co-op missions.
Its been nearly a week, now. They're not back yet. That led to us being here in this meeting room.

Night of The Dead- Chapter 2: Introduction

The day was already drawing to an end. There I was, sitting on a chair, in front of a long table. Both red, save the steel frames. The aroma of the cup of coffee I had clad in my hands, the yellow plastic cup still warm. Behind me, the sun was already making its descent, casting a drape of orange carpet flooding into the room. My eyes ran up the wall, in search of an answer.
'7 o' clock.'
The wall was wholly white, save the decaying corners of the paint due to years of bad upkeep. It wasn't a surprise anyway. This place has been uninhabited for quite a while. The last time this place saw life, the world saw an end to bio warfare. What led to such unanimous decision, was a depressing incident that caused destruction at catastrophic proportions.

I gripped the cup's handle, and stood, pushing the chair backwards. Silence was broken with a set of loud screeching sound of steel grinding on the cement floor. I freed myself from the seating area, and proceeded towards the other side. A wide set of glass panes, stretching from one end of the hall to the other, divided only by aluminum frames.
The sky was red, as if it was on fire. Beyond the horizon, a ball of flames was almost half way behind the world. The coffee filled my mouth, taste of bitter aroma calming my mind, then ran down my throat, the warmth rather soothing.
There was nothing to be seen through the glass windows, save a desolate wasteland that stretches as far as the horizon drawed, and an approaching Gazelle Type helicopter.
'Must be the guys,' I thought to myself, as I gulped the remaining coffee down my throat.
'A total waste of good coffee, being downed in such instance.'

The helipad was at least at a measurement of 50 meters by 50 meters, running yellow lights chasing each other around the designated courses. If one could have the time to just gaze at the lights running around, he would surely find it mesmerising, as how I was when I was up there awaiting the chopper's arrival.
The helicopter landed, stirring up else settled sand and dust from the ground. I sheltered my eyes for a moment to avoid the whirlwind, and as I regained sight of the helicopter, 3 shadows emerged from the veil that hid the machine that was screaming behind. Each figure had heavy-looking cases hung from their fingers, heavy from their posture of the 'gravity-defying' like.

Night of The Dead- Chapter 1: The End

The night was already drawing to an end. The surrounding was silent, save the roar of the machine propelling the helicopter we were in from the outside, and the radio reports announcing our arrival back to base from the front. It felt like heaven having boarded the helicopter, as if god gave us a second chance at having to see another sun rise.
It was there. The sun. Rising from behind a mass of fogged up mountains, and it was like a carpet of golden ray flooding up the world. The veil of darkness will once again be revealed. I could feel my temple pounding, pulse feeling like a hammer slamming in my head. I was getting my migraine again. There was no medicine to take away that pain right now, but somehow I was happy to feel it. I was happy I could still feel anything, actually.

To my right, the rest of my team. The highly respected Omega Squadron, supposedly being able to fulfill any requirements set for us. Propaganda. They wanted the people to feel at ease. They merely wanted to control panic from the civilians. What we saw last night, they will make us keep silent. What we saw last night, we could never forget.
Sitting at my right was Chris. The Ghost Division of the Marine Corp calls him Sergeant Major Night Cat. The government military bragged this person having the eyes of a cat at night, that he could see through all shadows of darkness, that his marksmanship was the best. They were right, actually. There was no one else I would've trusted to support our team with, but his ability to precisely puncture the enemies' hearts from 3000 feet away.
Still holding on to his sniping rifle, Night Cat was already halfway into wonderland. That rifle. The M-29C Black Arrow .50. An armor piercing gun that loads up ammunition so sharp and slim, they could penetrate kevlar like paper. That was regarding man-made protection suits. The ones we've encountered last night was rather.... unconventional.
In front of me sat Ric. His face scarred from bad shaving unkeep, and souvenirs of previous battles. The Marine Corp calls him 2nd Lieutenant Kheez. I called him the Torch. Kheez was a trained expert at a specialty known as a Firebat. In normal circumstances, his expertise was only needed in Search And Destroy (SAD) missions. The previous mission was a little more delicate, but his unwillingness to 'keep the fire small' prove to be quite an asset.
That gun he was holding. It looked as if it could weigh half a ton. Black steel exterior, with carbon stains still hung onto the edge of the wide double-barrel sitting on the ground of the helicopter. They call it the Arclite M23 Hecate, but I personally would scrap off that docile scientific rendition of the Hellfire Edition-X. Next to the gun was a twin gas tank, now empty. Still, I could smell the heavy sense of petrol hanging in the air.

The helicopter was banking left, and from where I sat, I could already see civilization. Too much has happened last night. I could make do with a nice shower, some lovely pancakes, and 3 days of continuous sleep. Not to mention a 6-month holiday to the beach. But the incident last night was far from over. I had a feeling the Admiral would only allow us access to shower and pancakes. She was nice, Admiral Ling. But her actions were always tied by the authorities above, the so-called Hands-of-God. Relating themselves closer to being with God just meant that they had the power to create and destroy all of us. Those idiots. They made a mess of the world, and they send us to fix it.
I should think there'll be a lot of explaining to do once we land. Being the leader of a squad is surely an itch of a hassle more than the rest. I guess it sure does pay off, when I get to come home with all my teammates intact.

Mikel Raikov, the fourth person on board the helicopter. His callsign was Crucist, and I personally think he was the best reconnaissance soldier I've ever worked with. He could study the map for half an hour, and remember almost precisely every grid and inch of the map for a week. On top of that, he could run like an Olympic Gold Medalist. Crucist was an important asset to my tactical planning, as he could track enemy prints and project their movements easily and correctly.
Crucist was the second man I have in command, although his job could be calculated as being far more dangerous than any of ours put together. He was given Number 2 only because his sensibility, of rather, sanity was still present in him. Also because he was ranked Captain, second to mine.

We were already closing in to our destination. All of them were awake, and had begun packing their 'luggage' now.
"So much for a 'simple' SAR mission, eh," Night Cat broke the silence, speaking at a volume higher than the machine's roar. I gave a slight nod.
"I think they've got more explanations to do instead of us," I agreed.
Silence hung around for a moment, then Kheez said, "I just wanna go get my cigars."