“There’s someone out there,” Harry replied. “Fifteen-hundred metres to the south, slightly right of the comms mast.”
“What is it?” Tommy asked from behind the wall of sandbags, watching his friend with anticipation.
“Not sure, mate. I can see a few heads bobbing about, but I can’t really tell. It’s definitely not pus-bags though.”
“They’re not civvies, either,” Harry noted. “They look like troops to me.”
Al adjusted the focus on the binoculars as he watched the top floor windows of the building in the distance. It was difficult to keep the image still from that range so he leaned forward, using the sandbags to rest the binoculars upon, and giving him a more stable view.
Movement out beyond the perimeter in itself was nothing new to the defending troops of the base. The infected were everywhere and very often stumbled towards the FOB whenever something attracted their attention. What was different now was that Harry had identified the movement as being living people, soldiers to be more precise.
Al was finally able to observe them clearly. He could now see them moving about on top of the roof of a block of low rise flats, and he identified what he believed to be an observation post in the process of being set up. He could see a number of antennas poking up from the rooftop, and their attention was undoubtedly focussed on the FOB.
“Looks like they’re building an OP for some reason,” Al grunted to Tommy and passed him the binoculars.
He pointed in the direction of the building as his friend began to look for himself and gave him a rough target indication to aid him in identifying the correct patch of ground.
“Fifteen-hundred metres, two fists right of the comms mast, block of flats with a blue front. Bodies mincing about on the rooftop.”
“Seen,” Tommy replied as he saw exactly where Al was referring to. He focussed the binoculars and watched for a few moments as a number of figures moved about in the open on the roof of the building. “Why would they be setting up an OP?”
“You tell me, but in my eyes, it’s not a good sign, mate. If they wanted to be our friends, they would just come and knock, or at least make comms in some way.”
“Maybe they’re just nervous? They might have had a bad experience with another FOB and just don’t want to take chances.”
“You have too much of a good heart, mate,” Harry replied from the right with a shake of his head and making fun of Tommy’s trusting nature. “It’ll bite you on the arse one day. Having a quick recce before going into unknown ground is prudent. Setting up an OP and relaying info back to whoever is clearly something else.”
“They’re not exactly being discrete about it either, lads. It’s as though they don’t give a fuck,” Al stated and nodded towards the flats.
The figures in the distance could easily have arrived more stealthily and set up their OP in a less obvious location, but they had not. Instead, they were blatant about it, showing very little intention of remaining covert or moving tactically.
“Definitely not trying to be sneaky-beaky, I’ll tell you that much.”
“Amateurs?” Harry asked.
Al shrugged and panned his binoculars to the left and right, checking around the neighbouring buildings for any sign of support units.
“Could be, but I doubt it. They clearly know what they’re doing,” Al replied and thought for a moment. “Maybe they just don’t want to appear hostile?”
“Or maybe they’re just brimming with confidence because they have an entire brigade behind them?”
Al nodded and grunted his agreement. He had learned over the years to always look on the less positive side.
‘A pessimist is never disappointed
,
’
he remembered his brother once saying to him. His own experiences in life had reinforced those same pearls of wisdom that his brother had given him all those years ago.
Al called down to a man standing beside a small rickety shack that had been built from sheet metal and timber. There were a number of antennas of different lengths and frequencies set up on the top of it.
“Anything coming over the net, Ron?”
Ron, their resident communications expert, was much older than the rest of them. Many of the younger soldiers referred to him as ‘Granddad’ on account of his haggard features and wiry greying hair. He looked up with annoyance, rolling his eyes and then stamping out the cigarette he had been sucking on before disappearing inside the radio room. Everything always seemed to be a chore to Ron. He reappeared a moment later, shaking his head and lighting another cigarette.
“Nothing, mate,” he called back up to Al in his gruff southern English accent. “Just the usual dead air. Nothing coming through on the HF, either. Whoever they are, they’re not the chatty type.”
“How many would you say there are?” Tommy asked as he turned his attention back to the block of flats.
“I’d guess a half section strength, as per SOP for that sort of thing,” Al replied. “Maybe four or five blokes. But they’re obviously not on their own because they’ve thrown up an antenna, and they’re reporting back to
someone
.”
“You know there’s only one real way of finding out, don’t you?” Harry muttered from behind his binoculars.
“Aye,” Al nodded, staring out over the churned ground and biting his lower lip. “We’ll have to go out there and have a nosey.”
They waited until nightfall before they began moving out from the base. The small group of soldiers formed up at the northern gate and prepared themselves to leave for their patrol. There were four of them altogether, three men and one woman. Each carried an SA-80 rifle and six magazines with very little else to weigh them down. They were a reconnaissance patrol, lightly armed and equipped, wearing a motley collection of civilian and military clothing, and tasked with gathering information, not to fight. They needed to move silently and swiftly if needed, and without being weighed down by heavy weaponry and ammunition. As a recce patrol, they were to avoid contact at all costs and move through the area without being detected or leaving any trace of their presence.
“How’s everything looking out there, Harry? Any other additions to the bunch on top of the flats?” Al asked into his radio.
“Nothing, Al,”
came the crackling reply.
“Approach from the east, close to the suburbs. They’re pretty blind on that side.”
“Roger that.”
“You sure you’re up for this?” Tommy asked, looking across at Tina as he checked the chamber of his rifle and ensured that the weapon was ready to fire.
She stared back at him and glowered. Immediately, her defences were locked into place and she felt the urge to go onto the offensive. She understood that she had never experienced the level of training that some of the soldiers in the base had gone through, and she had seen very little in the way of combat, but she was not willing to allow some twisted faced chauvinist to patronise her for being a woman.
“I’m just as capable as you are, Tommy,” she snarled at him, her eyes flashing brightly in the darkness. “Or would you prefer me to stay here with the rest of the split-arses and do the dishes while worrying about my nails?”
Tommy threw his head back and erupted with laughter, his shoulders jerked and his body twitched. His guffaws echoed loudly around the interior walls of the compound while Tina stood staring back at him with rage bubbling up inside of her. She pictured herself lunging forward and punching him in the throat.
“Fuck you,” she spat. “I don’t need to…”
Tommy held up his hand in front of her and began to shake his head, still unable to contain his laughter, as his face remained creased with a hilarity that Tina assumed to be at her expense. He wiped his features with the palm of his hand as though attempting to manually remove the amusement from his face.
“Easy, Tina,” Tommy was finally able to sputter. “It’s fuck all to do with the fact that you’re a woman or ‘split-arse’ as you so eloquently put it. I’m more concerned with the fact that you still have a hole in your leg, and I don’t want you feeling obliged to prove yourself if you’re not up to it… just yet. Now, if you don’t mind climbing down from that self-righteous high horse of yours, I think you’ve answered my question well enough. You’re up for the task, and I’ll say no more about it.”
Tina looked down at the ground for a moment. She felt a sudden wave of shame as she had clearly misinterpreted Tommy’s intentions and allowed her fiery temper to get the better of her. For the previous four weeks, since Tommy and Al had brought her back to the Forward Operating Base, she had slowly recovered from the wound in her leg and the subsequent infection. While the men and women of the base worked hard to maintain the security and safety of the people living there, Tina had felt useless, trussed up in a hospital bed and anxious to do more to earn her existence amongst the survivors. At the insistence of the doctors and the soldiers, she had remained inactive while she continued to recover. Now she was feeling ready to take an active part, and it was her own sense of pride that had forced her on to the defensive when she believed that her abilities were being questioned by someone else.
“Do you want to borrow my knife so you can stick it in his neck?” Al asked as he leaned closer to Tina, flashing her a broad grin.
She smiled back at him awkwardly and shook her head.
“Good. Now that we’re all friends again, let’s get going.”
They left through the northern gate, patrolling outwards in the opposite direction from the target position for five-hundred metres. Once they were satisfied that they could not be seen by the suspected observation post, they turned and headed towards the east and the outskirts of the built-up area. They were patrolling into an area that they knew was infested with the dead, but their other option from the west meant being exposed in the open as they approached their objective, and potentially being seen and fired upon with very little in the way of cover during their withdrawal.
Phil, one of the snipers from the wall, led the way. He knew the lay of the land better than any of them and would guide them safely through the maze of debris and bodies that coated the ground. When the others pushed forward to conduct their reconnaissance, he would provide over-watch of the area and cover them with his silenced L96-A1 sniper rifle.
Away from the protective walls of their fortress, the night seemed to grow darker with each step they took. The earth underfoot was soft, the churned mud still sodden from the heavy rainfall that had drenched the land over the previous week, and they needed to be careful where they placed their feet. One wrong step could mean them sinking deep into the mire or falling and giving away their position. Each member of the patrol needed to keep a close eye on the back of the person in front of them, watching where they trod, and ensuring that they followed the exact same path whilst at the same time being aware of their surroundings and watching into the darkness for any potential threat.
Already, after only an hour into the patrol, the strain of remaining at maximum alertness was having an effect. Their nerves, even for the veterans such as Al and Tommy, were stretched taut and ready to snap as they ventured further out into the unknown. The eerie silence of the night, interrupted from time to time by the distant and haunting moan of the dead, seemed to press in from the curtain of blackness all around them. The sound of their boots as they squelched through the mud and the rasp of their strained breathing seemed magnified in the stillness, forcing their minds to imagine all kinds of horrors taking note and silently heading towards them, stalking them through the darkness.
Tommy was at the rear covering the six o’clock position within the patrol. The reek of death drifted up from the land around them, rising from the hidden carcasses slowly decomposing in the filth. Here and there, he could see twisted limbs poking out from the black sludge, their fingers seemingly pointing at him with accusation. In other places, the bare skulls of the fallen silently watched him from their darkened eye sockets as he carefully stepped his way between them. A shiver ran down the length of his back and tingled along his legs. The no-man’s land around the base had always filled him with a sense of unease. Once out in the open he was comfortable, even if they were at great distances away from the cover of the FOB, but being in that area where there was nothing but death filled him with dread.
Up ahead, a sudden clatter was heard and was accompanied by the stifled curses of someone as they tumbled to the ground. Tommy immediately stopped and crouched down, resting on one knee and watching the area to their rear. The noise created by the fall up ahead sounded like a burst of thunder in his ears, and he instantly raised his rifle, ready to fire upon anything that moved towards them from the gloom. Nothing stirred, but he kept his weapon held in the aim and with the safety-catch switched to fire.
It was obvious that either Phil or Al had taken a fall. No doubt they were now covered in putrid filth and instantly miserable, knowing that they would remain in that state for the next few hours. Tommy shuffled to his left, remaining in a crouch and waddling on his haunches as he closed up on Tina.
“What the fuck are you lot playing at? You’re making enough noise to attract every dead-head for miles around,” he hissed with annoyance.
Al was face down in the mud. He had stepped into something that had instantly collapsed beneath his weight and then snagged his boot as he attempted to correct his footing. As a result, he had tumbled forward. He twisted his body as he headed towards the ground, turning his head and instinctively trying to save his rifle from being covered with gluey sludge. He had saved his weapon, but the rest of him had been coated from head to toe in the cold, stinking gunk that now began seeping through his clothing.