CHAPTER 23

​Frederic, Maryland
​
​The deafening thuds reverberated through the empty garage as the Grays pounded relentlessly on the interior door, their monstrous strength threatening to shatter the wooden barrier. Even though it was freezing cold inside the empty garage, sweat trickled down Raymond's forehead as he scanned the cluttered space, his mind racing for a solution.

SSGT Becket was unraveling a stiff brown cord, with a claymore mine attached to the other end.

"I have an idea. Grab those boxes and totes!" he whispered louder than he should have, pointing to a haphazardly stacked tower of plastic containers and cardboard moving boxes. “Stack them tall next to the overhead door.  Rios, unlock the drive chain so we can lift the roll up door if need be.”

Raymond looked at them, for the first time in ages he was unsure of himself. “Here’s the plan. We’re going to hide behind these boxes.”

“Bruh! What the hell? Cardboard boxes man, seriously?” McCune said wide eyed.

With some hesitation, they scrambled to take cover, their faces pale with fear but determination glinting in their eyes. As they crouched behind their makeshift barricade, Raymond pulled a small perfume sized vial from his pocket. It contained a viscous, translucent liquid with a greenish hue and a smell of stale sweaty gym socks – the experimental Camo Pheromone.

"Raymond, what is that stuff?" SSGT Beckett whispered, eyeing the vial warily.

"Sex Panther. It works 60 percent of the time, all the time." Raymond replied, his voice steady despite the bone-chilling sounds emanating from the other side of the door. "It masks our scent, making us invisible to them." He paused, opening the vial and sprayed the liquid onto each member of the Recon Team until it the vial was empty. "At least, that's the theory."

As the last pump of Camo Pheromone was applied, the door finally gave way, splintering into fragments. Sunshine and Grays spilled into the garage. The team remained motionless behind their makeshift barricade of plastic totes and cardboard moving boxes, praying that the experimental Camo Pheromone would keep them hidden from the infectious death, just feet away. The team held their breath, their hearts pounding in unison as they watched the shadows of infected creatures sniff the air, their heads twitching back and forth in search of prey.

Raymond questioned his faith in the scientist and hoped that the pheromone would work as intended. His M4 selector switch was already on full-auto. The stakes were too high, and one wrong move could mean certain death for them all. All it would take is for one clawed hand, or mouth full of teeth to come through and break skin. With each passing second, the tension in the air grew thicker, suffocating the very hope of them ever leaving this garage, healthy.

Beckett held a M57 clacker between his hands, ready to detonate the anti-personnel mine. McCune held a frag grenade in one hand, the other hand ready to pull the pin, with the safety clip held between his lips. Doc had both hands on bottom lip of the metal garage door, ready to heave it open for a quick escape. Darkness, just staired at Raymond, shaking his head in disbelief.

The Grays, their bulbous pus boils pulsating and sharp finger bones scraping the concrete floor, circled the garage like ravenous predators. One of them bumped into the wall of boxes concealing the team, causing the stack to wobble precariously. The team members exchanged panicked glances, Raymond lightly placed a gloved hand against the wobbling box, preventing it from tipping over.

The metallic scent of fear hung in the dust filled air of the dimly lit garage. Raymond peered through a narrow gap between the stacked boxes, plums of mist escaped his mouth as he breathed heavily. The Grays' frenzied snarls grew louder, drowning out the thumping sound of his own heartbeat.

After what felt like an eternity, the Grays seemed to lose interest in their search. Their guttural growls subsided, and they began to shuffle out of the garage one by one, leaving them unscathed in their hiding place.

When the last Gray had vanished, SSGT Beckett exhaled shakily, his body trembling with residual adrenaline. "That was too close," he said, meeting Raymond's eyes. "Why didn't we use this Camo Pheromone before?"

"Because it's experimental," Raymond replied, his voice tinged with frustration. "I didn't know if it would work, or if it might have side effects. I was going to test it on myself at some point, but we were desperate."

"Desperate" seemed an understatement.

"I don’t know about you guys, but I had complete faith in that plan." McCune said sarcastically.

"Let's wait a few more minutes to let them clear out, then we get moving," Beckett said.

*****BREAK***** 

Beckett motioned for the Recon Team to stay low and quiet as they cautiously exited the garage. They moved stealthily, covering each other's backs and taking calculated steps over the frozen ground to avoid detection. The air was thick with tension as they made their way to the FEMA Center.

As they closed in on the perimeter, McCune who was on point, signaled for the team to halt. He scanned the area meticulously, ensuring it was devoid of any threats before pressing on circling wide around a tall office building overlooking the FEMA Center. They were careful enough not to make the same mistake they had made at the oil refinery.

Bright sunlight filtered into the office building through grime covered windows that haven’t been cleaned in months. Conducting a hasty search floor by floor until they made it to level 4 where they found a suitable executive office with a broken window over looking the FEMA Center.

Following Rios' lead, Raymond helped set up the urban hide while the rest of the team finished searching the building for threats. Rios unpacked his hide kit, handing Raymond a can of black paint to spray on the lower windows. Rios unraveled a transparent black window screen that was hung over the broken window like a curtain. Raymond closed the door behind them, voiding any backlighting. Together they lifted and repositioned they heavy walnut desk closer to the window.

While pulling a pair of binos from his pack, Raymond noticed movement next door in the FEMA Center parking lot. Through the screen over the broken window, Raymond and Rios observed a street gang that had taken over the FEMA Center. The gang members were easily identifiable by their distinctive tattoos, bearing the numbers "13" or "MS" alongside graphic designs like demonic faces and weapons. Their attire consisted of baggy clothes, bandanas, and an assortment of makeshift armor. Most of the MS-13 gang members were lazing around, their assault rifles slung over their shoulders. The few guards that were on duty walked their posts with a bored indifference.

"Hey Boss, we've got a situation," Rios said into his radio on the team channel.

“What's up?" Beckett asked, as he returned to the hide site.

"MS-13 gang members have taken over the center. They're armed and hostile," Raymond reported, his gaze fixed on the gang's movements. "We've spotted prisoners too – they've got them locked up in makeshift chain-link cages over there inside the loading docs."

Beckett approached the broken window and peered through a pair of binoculars, observing the brutal conditions the prisoners were subjected to. His jaw clenched as he saw a woman pulled into an adjacent office then viciously raped by one of the bulky men. The more she fought against him, the worse he hit her, until she finally went limp from a blow to the back of the head.

Beckett's eyes burned with anger as he watched the horrifying scene unfold. He had seen and dealt with many atrocities in his time as a Marine, but this was different – these were innocent American civilians being tortured by ruthless gang members.

"We have to do something," Rios whispered, his hands clenched into fists.

“No shit, let’s go kill those fuckers!” Doc said pulling his body armor on, over his head.

“We should sic the Grays on them assholes.” McCune said.

“No, they’d get the prisoners too.” Raymond countered rationally.

“This is the type of evil I escaped from as a child.” Darkness admitted.

Beckett nodded grimly wanting to rush down there to end the woman’s pain. He hated himself for having to say it, "We will, but be smart about it. We’re outnumbered at least 3 to 1, and on the offensive. We have to wait until dark, then we'll take them out while they sleep."

It figures that these are the type of people who would survive the apocalypse. They are not strangers to violence, well-armed, and a command network already put in place. Raymond thought to himself as he continued gazing out the broken window.

The team spent the remaining hours preparing their gear, counting targets, and studying the layout of the FEMA Center, formulating their plan of attack. As night fell, Beckett, McCune, Doc, and Darkness moved down the hill covered in overgrown dead grass, stealthily towards the center, while Rios and Raymond kept watch from their hide site.

Beckett led his team to dark shadowed area the security fence, where they used bolt cutters from their breaching kit to create an entry point. Before they entered through the hole in the fence, Rios broke radio silence, “Hold position, you have one tango coming towards you through the semi-trailers.”

“Copy that, take the shot if you have it.” Beckett commanded.

A second later a sound of a muffled cough, a wet smack, then a crumpling thud was heard as the headless gang member collapsed in place.

“You're clear to proceed. There are a few more tangos on the north side we’ll take care of.” Rios instructed.

As the team stalked their way across the parking lot, bounding from semi-truck to semi-truck, towards the loading docks, they encountered a lone gang member guarding the entrance. Darkness executed a swift, silent takedown plunging his Ka-Bar into the bald-headed man’s tattooed neck. Darkness’ gloved hands muffled the sound as the man's lifeless body crumpled to the ground.

"Raymond, you got eyes on the inside of the warehouse from your vantage point?" Beckett asked as they moved cautiously forward, checking for potential threats in all directions.

"Stand by," Raymond responded. Using the rifle scope he looked through a tall warehouse window, he observed the prisoners huddled together in fear. He relayed their positions to Beckett and the others, ensuring they could safely approach.

"First priority is the prisoners. On me." Beckett whispered, leading the team towards the loading dock door.

"Two guards sitting at a table on the long wall, I do not have a shot." Raymond warned, his finger hovering over the trigger of his suppressed sniper rifle.

"Copy that," Beckett said, his M4’s suppressed muzzle pointing at the closed door as he crossed over to the other side. McCune reached across, grabbed the doorknob, twisting it to ensure it was unlocked, and looked up to Beckett through his night vision devices. Beckett pushed the switch-pad on his handguard  activating his IR laser and nodded to McCune.

With force, McCune pulled the door, stepping out of the way so it could fully swing open. Beckett was the first one in, going in the direction of the known threats pressing his trigger as soon as he had a clear shot. Doc and Darkness was right behind him looking for work, swiftly neutralized 2 more hidden gang bangers with precision shots from their suppressed weapons.

“Clear” Beckett whispered, after he shot each downed gang member again.

"Clear," Darkness, Doc, and McCune confirmed as they continued through the cages.

"McCune, escort these people back through the cut fence to safety," Beckett ordered, cutting the lock on the nearest cage with bolt-cutters.

"Got it, boss," McCune replied, herding the frightened prisoners out of their confinement. "United States Marines, we’re here to get you out."

"Raymond, we need more eyes inside," Beckett said, entering the FEMA Center building with Doc and Darkness close behind.

"Understood," Raymond responded, adjusting his rifle scope parallax to peer through windows as they systematically cleared each room.

"Room clear," Doc reported, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Move to the next one, on you," Beckett confirmed, signaling to Darkness.

"Three hostiles in the next room," Raymond informed them, watching as the gang members argued over a dwindling supply of food. Rios next to him shot another roving guard in the parking lot headed towards McCune and fleeing prisoners.

"Copy that," Beckett acknowledged. He gestured for Doc and Darkness to take positions on either side of the doorway, their suppressed weapons at the ready. With a nod from Beckett, they burst into the room, eliminating the gang members before the shell casing clanked off the floor.

"Room clear," Darkness declared in a hush tone, his expression stoic as he surveyed the carnage.

"On me," Beckett ordered, leading the team deeper into the FEMA Center, their mission far from over. The teamwork, combined with Rios and Raymond's overwatch, proved to be a formidable force against the out numbering but unsuspecting gang.

Suddenly, a loud noise echoed through the building as a door slammed open. Beckett, Doc, and Darkness quickly assumed defensive positions. They cautiously approached the source of the disturbance—a room with a large bed where they found a panicked MS-13 gang leader clutching a naked prisoner girl, his gun pressed against her temple.

"¡No se acerquen! ¡Los mato a todos!" the gang leader barked, beads of sweat forming on his brow as he glared at the Recon Team with wild eyes.

"Easy now, we don't want anyone getting hurt," Beckett replied in a calm but firm tone, his weapon still raised but not directly aimed at the man.

"Raymond, you still got eyes on?" Beckett whispered into his comms, hoping Raymond could find an angle from his hide site. The situation was tense, and any wrong move could end in tragedy.

"I got him." Raymond responded, observing through the dirty windows of the FEMA Center office building. The bipods of his DARPA XM-3 sniper rifle were firmly planted on the executive’s walnut desk. At a slight downward shot, Raymond had his backpack under his buttstock, which he hugged between his elbows giving him more control of his rifle.

At 300 yards, this was a chip shot. He dialed his elevation turret up 1.4 mils. A cool winter breeze was blowing left to right at a full value 5 mph. For a high risk precision shot like this, Raymond preferred to dial the wind instead of holding, 0.4 mils left, he clicked his windage turret.

He breathed in, breathed out, checked his natural point of aim while at the same time watching the frantic gang bangers tattooed covered face who was conveniently standing right next to the dirty window. The further a target is away from a glass barrier, the more likely a miss from incalculable deflection.

"Let her go, and maybe you can walk out of here alive," Beckett negotiated, trying to maintain eye contact with the gang leader.

"¡Nunca!" the gang leader spat back, tightening his grip on the terrified woman.

"Your call, buddy," Beckett said coldly as the gang leader twisted slightly thinking he would shield himself from Beckett using the woman, but opened himself wider to the window.

In one fluid motion, Raymond squeezed the trigger, sending a round through the single pane glass window. The hollow point bullet struck the gang leader squarely in the side of his head, killing him instantly.

The woman screamed and dropped to the floor as the lifeless body slumped to the ground pooling blood around her.

"Tango down," Raymond reported, his voice betraying no emotion as he lifted the bolt on his rifle, to eject the spent casing and chamber a fresh round.

"Damn good shot!" Beckett praised as Doc and Darkness rushed to the woman's side, checking her for injuries.

The remaining MS-13 members knew they were outmatched. The limited visibility in the dimly lit FEMA Center heightened their fear, as they realized most of their friends were dead, and they were facing an unknown enemy with superior tactics and firepower.

"¡Nos rendimos!" one of the gang members called out, throwing down his weapon and raising his hands in surrender. The others followed suit, their bravado dissolved into desperation.

"Clear the rooms," Beckett ordered, his voice a mix of authority and relief. "Doc, Darkness, secure the prisoners. Rios stay on overwatch. Raymond make your way down here and collect the weapons."

"Roger that." the team members responded.

As Beckett methodically cleared each room, he couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. The lame unsuspecting warehouse scouting mission had been an honorable success in the end, and the FEMA Center was now under their control. But there was no time for celebration; the team still needed to secure the facility, tend to the wounded, and evacuate the survivors.

"Baby Shark, this is Daddy Shark Actual," the radio crackled to life. "What's your status?"

"Mission accomplished, sir," Beckett replied, his tone professional. "Target AO secured, 13 tangos down, 5 POWs, and 21 hostages rescued. Requesting relief in place and medevac for walking wounded."

"Copy all Baby Shark. We're inbound with air support. ETA thirty mikes. Hold your position." General Lyons instructed.

"Understood. Holding position," Beckett confirmed, looking around the wreckage of the once organized FEMA Center. He could see the pallets of supplies, intended for desperate civilians, now littered with bullet casings and blood. The cost of this operation weighed heavily on him, but it was a necessary price to pay for the lives they'd saved.

As the sound of distant helicopter rotors grew louder, General Lyons' voice came back over the radio. "Sergeant Emond and his Marines are en route to provide security and assistance. They'll be on the ground shortly."

"Understood, sir," Beckett responded, feeling a small sense of relief. With Sergeant Emond's arrival, he knew that the FEMA Center would be in good hands, if the infected or more gang bangers showed up to take it back.

The thunderous noise of the helicopters filled the air as they landed outside the FEMA Center. Sgt. Emond, a seasoned Marine with a rugged appearance, disembarked from one of the choppers, followed by his squad.

With a quick debrief, Beckett handed off the FEMA Center to Sgt. Emond.

“Look what I found!” McCune said, holding up a half bottle of Tequila, while standing next to the helos.

With a sly grin, Raymond unzipped his Gortex jacket warming layers, and lifted a full bottle of Irish Whiskey.

“Ha, I got you all beat,” Doc said, revealing an entire case of Baijiu, which had Chinese labeling all over it. “They had a stack of this stuff.”

"Let’s get out of here, I’m freezing." Beckett ordered, and with that, the exhausted Recon Team climbed into the helicopters, leaving the well stocked FEMA Center in the capable hands of Sgt. Emond and his Marines.