Whiskey Tango Foxtrot (Escaping the Dead) by W. J. Lundy Page A

smaller
terminal Tango Two went crazy.  They heard it over their police
scanners.  The local police were responding and by the time my men got
there, they had already put down Tango Two. 
    But there lays the
problem.  Tango Two managed to scratch, bite and claw a number of people
before he went down.  We didn’t even know how many because a number of
them fled or went home after the incident.  The Uzbek police thought they
were dealing with just another insane person and didn’t buy our story.
 Even when we notified Interpol they didn’t care to listen.  The
Uzbeks were more concerned about us operating in their border than a possible
epidemic about to explode on them.
    So victims go home,
they feel sick, they go to bed, they wake up, and they attack their families,
neighbors.  Simultaneously all over Teremez, we were tracking at least
fifteen outbreaks; by morning we heard of ninety more, then it just snowballed
from there.  By the second day the city was in flames.  We called for
extraction, but they told us we needed to hang tight.  See, Teremez was
just one attack; this was going on everywhere and somehow it had even gotten
into a few of our larger bases. 
    Bagram and Kandahar
were lost quickly and within twelve hours we had a complete loss of combat
readiness in theater.  All bases were locked down, NATO recalled all of
its troops, the US followed suit.  That was chaos in itself, there just
weren’t enough birds to move them, and with that they were battling the primal
virus at the same time.  Gentlemen, it’s pretty safe to say it was a huge
cluster fuck.  We stayed in contact with Kabul through that first night, but
they were in bad shape and we eventually lost comms.  The last message to
us was to try and make it to the border.”
    “What about your
men?  Where is the rest of your team?” Eric asked.
    “Dead.  Getting out of
that city was hell.  It’s not like here, this place is small.  Teremez on day
two?  You’re talking close to a hundred thousand of those fucking things
on the streets,” Brooks said.  “Chief and I got separated from the
team.  We were providing over watch while they moved on ahead.  They
were surrounded and quickly overrun. It’s a fucked up world out there. 
They didn’t have a chance; in numbers it’s like fighting a tidal wave”.
    “What about the States,
Chief? What’s going on at home?” Brad asked.
    “We don’t know.  Honest
answer? Last update we got, there were no attacks in the US, but Mexico and
Canada were nearly lost.  Moscow, Paris and London all got hit hard. 
Germany was attacked but they were holding,” answered Sean. “Our sat phone died
two days ago, and our radios haven’t worked in three.  Boys, we are in the
dark,” Sean said.
    Brad told the SEALs
their story, how they lost communications during their patrol to the village,
about the mobs, how they had barely escaped and made it Hairatan.  
“So what do we do Chief?  What was your plan B?” asked Brad.
    Sean let out a sigh
“Plan B? Shit son we are already on plan C, hell we are off the page”. 
They were interrupted by the sounds of gunfire and they all climbed the ladder
to the roof.  The small car was back, repeating the acts of last night. 
They watched it stop while two men jumped out and fired away at the mob until
it was within fifty meters, then they jumped back in their car and sped away.
    “Ha!  That’s just
Junayd, don’t worry about him,” chuckled Brooks.
    “What’s so funny?” Brad
asked.
     “Oh Junayd, he’s a
local Taliban boss.  We bumped into him crossing the river.  Well, we
saved his ass actually.  We gave him our car and those rifles he’s using,”
said Brooks.  “He is determined to take back his city.”
    “You armed the
Taliban?” questioned Eric.
    “Hell yeah we did, if
they are keeping the primal bastards busy then they stay the hell away from us,
and the enemy of my enemy is my friend right?” answered