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.