The ground crunched beneath his leather boots, not because it was cold, but because it was littered in slabs of concrete and detritus. The Stronghold may have been an impressive structure, but the area around it had fallen into disrepair, a place that could easily shelter hostile drifters and Infected from view.
He had a service rifle cradled in his hands, poised so that it could be aimed and fired in a matter of seconds. His view was obstructed to a verdant sheen, one that was bespeckled with noise but did an adequate job of shaping his surroundings in shades of green and white. The nights were getting colder, Dallas realized, as a breeze elicited goosebumps from Dallas' exposed forearms. That would not stop the Infected, who thrived in the dark and cold.
Usually Military patrols were limited at night time, only utilized for the most necessary of tasks. This was one of them, where signs of an Infected nest at the Old Rail Yard had been reported by daytime sentry, yet the precise location was unknown. That's where the higher ups were called to deal with the threat when darkness fell and cricket-song filled the air. It was when the Infected would crawl out of their hovels and hunt- and where Captain Geoff and Lieutenant Saraiva-Hertado could pinpoint a location based on Infected activity and eliminate the suspected nest.
They had split at the west end of the railyard, where the ground fell to an eight foot concrete wall that lined the rickety rails and abandoned freight cars. Dallas took the southern hemisphere of the Yard, while Alex had taken the north, and Dallas had since kept his senses alert for Infected activity. It was still, to the point where all Dallas could hear was his own breathing inside the night vision mask and the distant call of an owl, its hoots low and rhythmic like the babbles of a stream.
Dallas sacrificed his sure hold on the rifle to fish out his comm and hold it up to his mouth. "This is Lieutenant SH. There's no sign of Infected so far and I've scouted a quarter of the Yard already." Alex was one of Dallas' closest friend, and yet his tone in the comm was rigidly formal, like he were talking to a distant superior than a trusted compatriot.
Reconnaissance work should've been delegated to a pair of a newbie and a veteran but for this case, he and Dallas opted to take point. Although he had quite a number of people listed under his organization, on night-time missions such as this, Alex wants to use as very few personnel as possible. It makes for lesser worries for him and presumably fewer casualties, as seeing his and Dallas' more than a decade partnership had made them almost but not quite, move like they share the same brain.
After they parted ways, Alex took the northern part of the yard, scouting the area cautiously but quickly, clocking each minute he spent further away from his partner and the rest of the team that hang back at the split point. Although his attention was drawn to every little movement in the shadows, he also visualized the whole area in his mind and was figuring out where Dallas would be at that very moment, ready to run to him if the other gave out any sign of distress.
"You really should change your call sign dude." he chuckled lowly to his comm in response to his friend's rigid tone. "I'll bet you fifty that the newbies call you Shit Hole behind your back.." he teased as he turned a corner and found it clear of anything suspicious.
He switched the frequency of the comms and grumbled to it as he began to trace back his steps towards where he parted ways with his buddy. "This is Captain Geoff. North-side clear. Alpha Team proceed with caution towards Southern Westside and finish the sweep with the Lieutenant."
Although he was prepared for anything, a part of Alex still hoped it would be an uneventful night. TagDallas Saraiva-Hertado
QuotePosted 09-29-2021, 09:45 AMThis post was last modified: 09-29-2021, 09:45 AM by Alexander Geoff
Dallas Saraiva-Hertado
Alex's voice crackled as it came over the comm. Dallas clenched his jaw at Alex's words. He replied, quickly and hushed like a superior were listening over them, "They can call me whatever they want- doesn't change the fact that they're still beneath me."
Dallas stuffed the comm back in his pocket after hearing Alex's voice again, this time with sharp, formal command. He was lukewarm towards the Alpha Team regrouping with him. They were adept enough soldiers, sure, but Dallas always worked better alone. Alone, he only had to count for himself, his own footsteps crunching over the gravel, and his own back towards any trouble.
Moments later, he should have wished for a team to trail after him. He heard the heavy sprint, the harsh effort of breath, and barely turned his head and dodged before something lunged at him. It was humanoid shaped, stood on two legs and its eyes glowed white against the green of his night vision goggles. But as Dallas lifted his rifle in its direction, as it turned itself around, having failed to knock Dallas off its feet, the lieutenant realized it was a human.
A wild, dirt-covered and poorly-kempt human, but a person all the same. No matter how matted their hair was, how much their hand trembled as they held the shank in their hands, they all spoke the same language. Dallas' finger tested the trigger, but a string of quick thinking, mostly pertaining to how noise would attract, or worst, scare off the nearby Infected, bade that he lower his rifle.
"Shh, easy there," Dallas said in quieted voice. "We don't need to figh-".
They lunged again. Dallas dodged, again.
"Look, there are Infected around! If you can just put the knife away and talk-"
They lunged, and this time, their shank clipped at Dallas' sleeve. He winced and a hand instinctively went to cover the wound area. Judging by the sharpness of the pain, it was only a shallow cut. Still, that knife hardly looked clean.
"Listen!" his voice rose with desperation. "You'll attract every damn Infected in the are-".
They knocked Dallas off his feet. The smell of a stinking bog engulfed Dallas. Despite the fact that they were skin and bones, they were surprisingly heavy and Dallas tried to kick them off by planting a boot square in their chest. They staggered back, only just so, but before they could lift the knife again (and Dallas could unsheathe the pocket knife strapped to his boot) bullets rang out through the area. Dallas' attacker slumped to the side, dead.
Dallas shot his gaze back, scrambled to his feet. "Do you realize what you've done?" he hissed.
Shots rang throughout the dark compound, making Alex curse under his breath and quickly switch back towards the direction of the noise. "The fucking idiots who made those noises better be fuckin' alive when we get back so I can fuckin' drill into your bones why we're not supposed to be trigger happy." He seethed through the comms, making sure to both encourage his men to stay alive and anticipate the punishment he will be dealing out. Hopefully soon enough.
Running as fast as he could, he eyed the landscape to look for a high ground, and finding one, briskly climbed upon it to get a better vantage point. Then, he laid out all his gear before him, lit up two flares, then threw it over the ledge of his perch.
With that done, Alex took out a whistle from under his shirt and blew three hard notes, hoping to draw the inevitable horde of undead towards him. He wasn't often one for stupid heroic antics, and he always discouraged his men from doing such things, but with his bestest friend's life on the line, he was feeling quite heroic.
"DALLAS YOU MOTHERFUCKIN' BASTARD! YOU BETTER BE ALIVE TO FUCKIN' RESCUE ME LIKE A MOTHERFUCKIN" PRINCESS FROM A TOWER!" He screamed, using his loud commanding voice for better effects.
At the sight of the first straggler, Alex crouched low, aimed his gun, and began the rain shower of bullets. After all, it was better to be stranded at high ground than be surrounded on all sides on flat ground.
Blood trickled from the bullet in his skull, a scar of crimson splitting the ground beneath, his eyes wide and dead and unfocused. An uneasy filling sank in Dallas’ stomach - it always did, when it was a human lying dead before him. Even a human that looked and acted like one of them.
Where there was smudgy darkness, now peered dozens of glowing eyes. Brilliant orbs darting about, peeking from old boxcars and sunken pits in the floor. With their presence came an unbearable and familiar stink.
Dallas stepped back, drawing his pistol from its holster and pointed towards the cluster of eyes. It was deathly quiet, and even the familiar sounds of night - crickets and frogs, chirps and songs - fell silent.
A dozen eyes became a hundred - maybe more. Dallas’ jaw clenched, as he flicked the safety off of his gun, a resounding click in the bated quiet. Then, a growl rumbled. Then two. Soon, it was an undulating chorus of hunger.
”Hold. Your. Ground.” Dallas commanded, retreating another step. The shadows began to move - a large blanket melting into grotesque, dusky shapes. And then, bristling red light filled the air. It was barely a spark between the dark, boxy shapes of the train cars - what drew the Infected were the three sharp whistles piercing the air, too measured to be accidental.
Alex, you freaking fool.
They were on him. Stalking, indistinct black figures in the night leapt from depth and shadow, their features illuminated by the cherry red glow of the flare. Their eyes tinged crimson, their teeth glinted through decayed cheeks - and they were focused on one lone person, standing boldly atop a train car.
Dallas’ feet were moving before he realized. He was shouting over his shoulder, back at his men and women. ”Draw off as many Infected with your own flares. Thin the herd, then pick them off.”
A shape loomed into view, and by martial instinct, he cleared the crate with a leap. He was drawing closer to where the Infected had gathered beneath Alex, using each other’s bodies to clumsily reach the human atop. There was no method, no intention behind the pack’s actions - just frenzied chaos.
Dallas popped off shots. The dark night would have made aiming hard, but with the flare still burning, there was enough light to fell a good number of Infected.
But, of course, there was always more.
”Alex!”
Pop. Pop. Pop
Dallas pulled himself up on a train car resting close to Alex’s. It would be a lengthy leap for the Captain, but with Dallas’ outstretched hand to help catch and haul him up, there was a high chance that Alex could clear the jump. Though, not a certain one, as Infected started pooling around them.
after dusk
Posted 09-17-2021, 04:20 PM
