Extraction, August 22nd

"Sir, hold." Lieutenant Lana gestured for me to stay back, hidden by the shadows.

I remained silent as a heavy rumbling slowly approached. I cast my gaze at the windows, watching as the massive shadow of an Abrams slowly moved across the pane of glass.

I glanced at the mutilated corpses strung up on the walls. Fuck! Why hadn't I just bought an artillery regiment and shelled this town into dust. I'd seen more bodies today, people, not zombies. They'd been tortured, raped, burned alive.

Like me these men had sworn an oath. To defend the people of the United States. Not to brutally oppress them. To take their hope and trample it under the jackboots of tyranny.

They were scum. The worst kind. I'll ensure the army and airforce understand in no uncertain terms, surrender will not be offered, nor accepted.

"Moving." Lana whispered. We quickly sprinted to the next building over, passing through a parking lot with dozens of smashed cars, people strung up from the light poles with dozens of bullet holes.

My blood was already seething but now it was starting to boil. An armored humvee drove past, towing the shot up wreckage of the UAZ we'd abandoned last night.

We were living off of what we could carry, Lana held up here hand, then continued making hand signals. Patrol, three, moving south, 30 yards.

I slowly eased myself next to the Lieutenant and readied my rifle, as unlikely as that was to be. The rat bastards seemed to think no one would enter Barstow. Which was a fair assumption. Why would anyone get near Black horse?

"Sierra?" A soft voice spoke from behind us. Lana and I whirled around, weapons raised. A tall imposing figure was standing just inside the door we'd entered. His uniform the sole reason I didn't immediately empty rounds into his chest. My eyebrow twitched slightly as the man crept forward, the imposing dragunov, that Soviet camouflage pattern.

"How the fuck did you get here?" I asked. The sniper smiled slightly and pressed at his ear.

"Corporal, I've made contact with our target." The Spetsnaz sniper crouched next to us, eying the patrol.

"Sir, we're here to exfil…" I held up a hand.

"Not now, how many?" I asked.

"A reinforced motor rifle platoon, most of which are standing by south of Barstow heights." He replied. 

The sniper paused for a moment. "We are going hot sir."

No sooner had the words left his mouth when a pair of rifle cracks broke the silence.

"Shit! Fuck! Sniper…" the voice was cut off by another shot.

"We are moving sir." The sniper grabbed my collar and started pulling and pushing me along. Lana struggled to keep pace with the massive sniper as we barreled through random stores. Rifle fire seemed to erupt from everywhere all at once.

"Keep moving sir!" The man shoved me ahead, pointing at a small gas station and dropped to a knee, swinging his rifle towards a convenience store. Lana and I kept running, the dragunov behind us firing several rounds.

I felt the whip and crack of bullets just barely missing me. I crashed through the door, Lana and the sniper hit on my heels as the building was riddled with rifle fire. Fuck!

Shits hit the fan! As soon as I scrambled behind the counter I opened the system store, might as well get some new fresh faces to even the odds a bit. Several sets of tires came to a screeching halt out back. I glanced up and the sniper grabbed me and dragged me out back.

Several UAZ were waiting, soldiers leaning out of windows, firing at the cav as we were ungraciously shoved into several vehicles.

The driver immediately floored the accelerator, I almost fell back out of the truck as it was whipped back around. The soldier sitting opposite me lunged across the truck, grabbing my shoulder and hauling me back inside.

"We're going to get you home sir!" The driver shouted as he drifted the truck around a corner, quickly dashing across the open street as a Bradley appeared around a distant corner.

The radio beside me came to life with more voice chatter. "Enemy tank, moving west past the DMV."

"Siera is secured, moving south."

"Bradley, intersection of Armory and McBrown."

We sped past some sprawling educational campus, soldiers were spilling out, rushing to their vehicles. The truck briefly attempted to fly, but with its dreams dashed it grinded the bottom of the chassis as we flew over the hill.

"Rose 7, Tulip! We have Sierra actual." The driver grabbed the mic and held it with the side of his head and shoulder as he whipped the truck around a corner, sending the rest of us sprawling around the inside.

"Affirmative. Rose to all units, withdraw. Regroup at rally point Vulcan in 45 mike."

I was then forced to enjoy half an hour of the most reckless driving I'd ever had the misfortune of partaking in. I watched as the driver whipped and drifted along, the speedometer never dipping below 75 miles an hour.

We came to a stop at a massive, abandoned truck stop, several other trucks were already there, soldiers were positioned around the truck stop, pulling security. Mostly hidden by the abandoned semis were a pair of KA-27s.

I stepped out of the truck, my legs a bit shaky from the experience. These damn uaz shook too much, probably weren't designed to go that fast that long. A staff sergeant walked over to me, pausing as I straightened.

"Sir, the helos will warm up and airlift you back to Firebase Fyodor." I nodded, trying to place the familiar face.

"How much was redirected for this effort?" I asked.

"My task force, and those two navy helicopters." The staff sergeant replied. The engines of the helicopters started, the blades beginning to throw up dust.

"Let's get you out of here sir!" The staff sergeant led me over to the helicopter, watched Lieutenant Lana and myself board then slammed the door shut.

The aircraft roared as a feeling of temporary weightlessness overcame everything. The copilot glanced back at us as we strapped into the seats. The ground started to race past us, the helicopter devouring the distance like it was racing death itself. My heart thundered in my chest, the pilot rarely ever a hundred feet above the ground.

'Killed Zombies 113,148(walkers) 43,519(runners) mutants 12,185(harpies), 5,222 (tanks): rewarded 470,000 Credits, 235,000 xp. Please view the shop to use your credits.'

'You have gained 235,000 xp, 4,466,800/20,000,000 xp needed for your next promotion.'

I glanced at the counters, Los Angeles was gone? So had they wrapped up Iron Gauntlet early? Or were there just no more undead left in the city? I shook my head, leaning back in the seat, just letting the pilot fly. Not like me worrying over it was going to change anything.

The familiar sights of the mountain peaks of the Los Angeles metro area came into view, a feeling of relief came over me as I glanced at the tired lieutenant beside me. I chuckled a bit as I glanced out of the window. There wasn't too much activity I could glean. But the number of supply convoys I could see below gave me a sense of hope.

The copilot turned back to me, a grave expression on his face. "Sir, there's a lot of traffic coming from headquarters, sounds like something's going on."

I leaned forward. "What's happening?"

"All our aircraft on the ground were just ordered to scramble sir, you'll have to figure it out once we land." the pilot replied as we roared over the city.

I bit my lip. Could I just have a single day of rest? Was that too much to ask? I sighed, and composed myself. Today was going to be another long, dreary day. The things I did for the Union.