The New Haven Incident - Part Eighteen

Mendez staggered forward, then was up and running, sprinting. With Sebastian as his guide, he ran through the streets of New Haven City. He did not need to look back to know that they were being pursued. The overwhelming buzz and zip of far too many insect wings compelled Mendez to continue forward, despite the ache in his lungs and legs. They dodged around corners and down alleys until Sebastian led them into the impossibly small space between two restaurants. Sebastian pushed him into the gap, then squeezed in after him.

Usually, it was Mendez playing the part of rescuer. It was his job to put his life on the line to get Cedarwood employees to safety. He was utterly unused to being protected himself. But Sebastian had made is so that if they were found, Sebastian’s body would be between Mendez and their attackers. He would be the first to be attacked. Being the one rescued was a peculiar feeling. Mendez wondered if Sebastian had even thought a moment of protecting himself first.

Sebastian turned to him and pressed a finger against his lips, his other hand pressed against his own chest. Understanding, Mendez struggled to control his heavy, loud, ragged breaths. His lungs screamed their displeasure as he forced them to quieten. Several Dark Ones zipped past them. Mendez’ heart hammered painfully in his chest, but he managed to force his body to heel. Sweat stung his eyes as it trickled down, his eyebrows having given up their valiant effort to keep it from his eyes, so he closed them and focussed on his breathing.

All sense of time flitted away as Mendez wrestled with himself, trying to keep quiet. Sebastian clearly had an easier time of it. If it weren’t for his body heat, Mendez would have no idea the man was close; and they were practically touching.

At length, the tension broke and Sebastian let out a long sigh. Mendez opened his eyes and turned to Sebastian. The agent nodded at him and, after peeking out and checking their surrounds, slipped from the gap.

“Grier!” Sakata cried, running to him.

The swarm of Dark Ones had finally ceased their attack and the tattered remnants of the swarm retreated. Sebastian and Mendez had drawn off a considerable number, and the two extraction teams had killed so many their ammunition was running dangerously low. It had taken them too long to realize that their bullets were useless at anything but buying a little time. The only way to kill these infected was to take their heads.

Harding straightened, breathing hard as he observed Sakata slide to a stop on his knees beside Grier. The young mercenary sat on the ground, his back against a wall, legs splayed out in front of him. He held one hand against a wound in his neck. Blood poured between his fingers. The other hand loosely gripped his rifle, which sat on the ground beside him.

He reached out and grabbed the front of his captain’s tactical vest, eyes wild, breath rapid and uneven. Greir couldn’t speak, but he needn’t. His panicked expression and pleading eyes said everything.

Harding recognised the grey pallor of Greir’s face. He was not going to make it. Nevertheless, he remained silent as Sakata reached into one of the many pockets of his tactical vest and pulled out a field first aid kit. Taking a thick cloth from the package, he slid it beneath Greir’s hand. The white fabric turned red immediately.

Team Two formed up behind Harding, watching the scene in respectful silence. They bowed their heads as Grier gasped, trying to draw air into lungs that no longer worked.

“Hang tight, Ronaldo,” Sakata said, knowing there was nothing he could do. “We’ll get you out of here.”

Grier offered his captain a small smile before his face fell slack. The hand at his neck slipped from its place and his head dropped, unfocused eyes staring at his own knees. Sakata closed his eyes briefly.

Harding grunted. He turned to spy Lilith, her swords hanging loosely in her hands as she watched Grier die. Tears rimmed her eyes. Handing’s expression hardened. He marched over to her and grabbed her roughly at her elbow.

“This place was supposed to be safe,” he barked at her, shaking her.

“Hey,” Dr. Liu said, scrambling forward and pulling Harding off his daughter. “Stop!” He placed himself between his daughter and the enraged captain.

Harding pushed Dr. Liu out of the way and advanced on Lilith. She took a step back, instinctively raising her swords in preparation for a fight.

“Harding,” Sakata said, his voice quiet but firm. He stood and faced his peer. He shook his head and Harding snarled. He turned and marched from the room onto the balcony. He searched the ground below for some sign of his friend.

Lilith shook the dark blood from her blades and sheathed them. She reached out and touched her father’s back, turning him so he could see her speak.

This was not a patrol.

Dr. Liu translated for the benefit of everyone. Harding turned his head slightly, listening.

I’ve never seen them swarm like this. This was an attack. Planned.

“What do you mean?” Sakata asked. “That there was some thought behind this?”

Patrols are not more than five Dark Ones and perhaps a few Changelings. Never more. They’ve been moving through the city in a methodical grid pattern; easy enough to avoid once recognised. This was not that.

“So, what? They coordinated? Are they intelligent enough for that?”

Lilith shook her head. They shouldn’t be. They function in much the same way as bees or ants. Or… they did.

“So, what are we seeing?” Cheryl asked. “Evolution in real time?”

Possibly. Or… Lilith hesitated.

“Or what, Lil?” Dr. Liu asked.

Or there is someone calling the shots. Someone not infected.

Silence followed Lilith’s words. Sakata scowled. He didn’t want to give away his suspicions – which were in complete agreement – in front of the civilians. They had it rough enough as it was. “Is that possible? How would you control these things?”

Lilith shrugged. All I know is that this was a coordinated attack. That they’ve organized in this way suggests that there is a central command.

“She’s not wrong,” Harding noted, apparently having none of Sakata’s qualms. He turned around, resting against the balcony. He folded his thick arms in front of him. “Even if they spontaneously created an army, there would still need to be a chain of command. That means there’s a commander.”

“So, it’s true. Fucking fantastic,” Richards muttered. He looked up at his captain. Harding smirked at him. “Now what?” he demanded.

Sighing Harding turned back to the street. “We continue as planned. We need to restock our ammunition, and get that data Cedarwood wants. The labs have an armoury.”

“So, to the laboratory,” Sakata said.

Harding nodded.

“What about Mendez?” Joseph asked.

“He knows me well enough by now,” Harding answered. “If he survived, he’ll know where to find us.”

Sakata nodded. His gaze slipped past Harding on the balcony where a small grey cloud moved in the distance. His eyes widened when he realised that it was not a cloud at all. It approached too quickly, too low to the ground, rolling up and down like a wave on the ocean as the infected approached. They weren’t capable of true flight, if Lilith could be believed. It was more like an assisted jump. It was undoubtably another wave of infected, moving with terrible speed, headed directly for them.

“We need to move!” he barked.

Harding scowled, then turned. “Shit!” he hissed. Then, “Let’s go. Everyone! NOW!”

Lilith ran to Hannah and swept her up into her arms.

“Sebastian,” the little girl whimpered softly. Lilith gently touched her head as she ran in reassurance. She grimaced as Hannah’s arms wrapped around her neck. The agent would find a way back to them, she tried to say in that touch. 

If he is alive.

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