Search & Rescue
Day 1- Second Squad, Fire Team Three
Corporal Hannigan paced over the rooftop, his polished boots thump-thump-thumping angrily. The comm. unit in his hand looked ready to burst under the pressure of his fingers. “This is Alpha, come in Bravo.” His sharp voice rang out across the rooftop, as though he could force the rest of his squad to hear him.
Cheshire leaned on the thick concrete that lined the roof, a cigar clenched in his lips. He looked down at the chaotic roar in the streets then turned to Stevens, who knelt on the concrete beside him, an m249 SAW propped up on the wall. He’d taken up the duty of trying to shoot the infected. “Who comes up with these team names, Stevens?” Cheshire grumbled. “Someone lacking originality.” Cheshire smirked at his companion, then looked over at Carter who stood by the door to the apartment building, guarding.
“Mouse. Why don’t you take a seat? We’ll be here awhile.”
“Shut up, Cat.”
“He told you.” Stevens smirked.
“All of you shut up.” Hannigan turned on them, narrowing his eyes. “We’ve lost contact. With everyone.”
“Already knew that, Corporal.” Cheshire puffed his cigar, looked around, and shook his head. “We should move.”
“Command told us to wait for them here once we found the mayor.”
“We didn’t find the mayor.” Carter shook his head in frustration.
“Technically, we did.” Cheshire amended. “He just wasn’t, uh, fit for duty.”
Stevens laughed harshly, loudly, as a particularly juicy head exploded on the ground. “Almost got some on me.” He laughed again, pleased with his work from his four-story perch. Cheshire shook his head and Hannigan hissed for him to stop messing around.
“Face it, Corporal, the prince on a white horse isn’t coming to save this bunch of misfits.”
Hannigan glared at him but Cheshire only laughed, tapping Stevens on the shoulder. “C’mon, enough games.” Stevens grunted disapprovingly.
“We’re moving.” The corporal said, waving his hand. “There’s no use staying any longer…” He sighed. “We need to assume the squad is down. We’re on our own, boys.”
“Wait.” Stevens lifted his head from his line of fire, blinking into the clamor below. He’d stopped shooting, but the sound of gunfire had reemerged. Frowning, Stevens stood for a better look. “Well, god damn…” A woman broke around the corner, racing through the crowd. In her hands was a shiny shotgun, glinting with sun. Her hair bounced, her chest rose and fell in short, quick bursts, visible from their perch a block away. Behind her scrambled three shambling human beings. “We’ve got a fighter down there.”
