Location: North-West Arklay

16:39 HRs; 3 weeks ago

Aubin could be found hidden amongst the vegetation in the forest, an M1 Carbine in his hands and his A-TACS FG camouflage pattern blending him into the brush almost seamlessly, to the untrained eye, he was nearly invisible. His radio would crackle to life, “Command to Romeo Oscar, do you copy? Over.” a nasal rounding, alder voice would speak, some cracks of radio loss happening. This message would repeat three more times, the voice sounding more and more worried with each repeat. After the fourth repeat, a clear enough message would be heard, Aubin being the carrier of Epsilon’s strongest radio responding, his voice deep and heavily raspy, “This is Silent Key of Romeo Oscar, good copy. Thought we’d never hear from you guys, what’s the occasion? Over.” Would be his response.

Command: We’re pulling you boys and girls out, or what’s left of you. Three Black Hawks will be incoming in two days, one will be carrying two of you with a scientist named Felix, the other two will be an extract to where the rest of us are. Over.

Silent Key: [silence] . . . Are you serious, this better not be a fucking joke or I swear I’ll choke a bitch. . . Over.

Command: Dead Serious, forward to the rest of Romeo Oscar and gather up on the roof of the complex when the time comes, we’ll drop a single bird at a time. Over and Out.

Three days would pass until the whole of Epsilon’s remaining force and Dr. Felix Turner would be gathered on the roof and upper levels of the compound, awaiting the arrival of the Black Hawks that were to arrive at any moment. The sea of black, brown, and green camouflaged and armored men and women would wait in almost dead silence until Silent Key’s radio would crackle again.

Black Bird 1-1: Black Bird 1-1 to Romeo Oscar, we are approaching the AO, have the VIP and the two chosen security personnel lined up first, we want her out ASAP. Over.

Silent Key: Silent Key of Romeo Oscar to Black Bird 1-1, it’s myself and Sabre that will be going with the VIP. Over.

Black Bird 1-1: Copy that Key, I’ll be your pilot, Black Birds 1-2 and 1-3 will be landing afterward to grab the lot of you after the VIP is out. Over and out.

After that conversation the distant rumble of that squadron of Black Birds would be heard, two of them beginning a circle pattern as one tilted backwards, it’s forward momentum slowing as it lowed near the roof of the complex. As soon as it touched down, the left gunner would push open the door, his head covered by the heavy crew helmet they wore, the side bearing the Epsilon patch. Sabre would go in first with Dr. Felix Turner in the middle and Aubin, also known as Silent key in the rear, all three loading into the Black Hawk and taking off.

Black Bird 1-1 would fall into the circling pattern as Black Birds 1-2 and 1-3 took their turns loading up the last of what remained of Epsilon, a few souls left behind as Deimos security for whomever was left at the facility. One of the last beacons of hope for a cure. Felix would sit next to Aubin, a terrified look on her face, Aubin would understand why she’d be pale as she was, high up in the air was just the beginning of it. The trio of Black Hawks would arrive in and leave Arklay in the span of less than ten minutes, likely leaving a large majority of the populace confused, worried, or both.

As the trio of Black Hawks continued on, Aubin would use the comms device in the heli to speak to the pilot directly, “So Black Bird 1-1, may I. . .We know where we’re going?” he’d ask after pulling his shemagh from his face, revealing the facial hair on his face that had become more and more scruffy. “We’re heading to Utah, some camp there that Deimos apparently owns, should be a two hour trip.” would be the response over the phoning device. Aubin would sigh, “Copy that, out.” he’d reply before hanging up, Felix looking at him as if she was expecting an answer, Sabre doing the same, “Utah.” would be his simple response, Sabre rolling her eyes and Felix furrowing her brow as to why she was being sent there.

After about an hour of flight, Black Birds 1-2 and 1-3 would both veer off in their own direction from 1-1, taking the troops aboard those birds to HQ and leaving 1-1 with his precious cargo to fend for itself. With little resources to spare, it was understandable. Another half hour in, shouting would be heard from the cockpit of the chopper, surprisingly audible over the load noise of the engine that powered the machine and kept it in the air. “What do you mean restricted airspace?!” . . .”No, this is open space on the ma-. . . No, we don’t have enough fuel to go that far around!” . . . “Fuck you too buddy, boo-fucking-hoo!” Both the crew on the turrets and the trio in the back would be staring to the front of the chopper, exchanging looks amongst one another, Felix looking to be on the verge of a panic-attack.

Suddenly, the interior of the chopper would be filled with a beeping, red lights on the console of the cockpit flashing, “Fuck, fuuuck, they weren’t bluffing!” would be beard from the panicked pilot has a hiss and explosion would rock the cab, the heli starting to spin as the tail-rotor had been snapped off the the ground-to-air missile, sent with care from a former U.S. Military Base. The helicopter would spin faster and faster, Aubin holding onto Felix and Sabre trying to open one of the side doors, the air filled with squealing and beeping of the emergency systems of the Black Hawk. As soon as the side-door slid open, the inertia from the spinning sent Sabre right of the bird, likely falling to her death.

It felt like an eternity before the crash, it the silence and darkness, for a time, he believed he was dead. Aubin came to a good minute or two after the crash, quickly crawling for the open door of the bird that Sabre flew from, but his leg grabbed by Felix. He eyes were watered with tears and her legs were pinned beneath the seats and twisted metal of the outer-body. And worse of all, the carcass of the helicopter was on fire and no other crew members looked to be alive. “We gotta survive this, we both swore we’d fucking live damnit!” Aubin would yell, trying to pull Felix free, but those moments would be cut short as another explosion rocked the lightly forested area, the bird exploding and sending Aubin sailing across the forest until a tree stopped him. No screams or sounds other than the fire would be heard from the remains of that helicopter, that look on Felix’s face right before the explosion burned into his memory. She was gone.

Aubin would try to get up, he wanted to run back to the helicopter and pull her out, but his body wasn’t allowing that, his left leg was missing from the knee-down and right right leg was a broken mess, the fabric of his pants stained with blood. He’d crawl a few feet before he’d hear them, there was no mistaking that sound, and the explosion sure has hell got their interest. He’d turn over to look back, the undead corpses shambling near, the soulless look in their eyes and mouths agape, thirsting for a victim. Aubin wanted to run, but he had no legs to do so. So he took his only option left.

He’d stand on the stubs that used to be his knees and pull his M1911 from it’s holster, raising the weapon and open firing upon them. The less there were the better. He’d count each shot of .45 APC he fired, striking a head of undead per shot, one needing two shots since it’s brain was still intact enough for control. He’d stop at nine, turning to look at the fire that took the life or Dr. Felix Turner. “Looks like we aren’t going to make it. How optimistic of us to think that. I don’t know how you lived your life, but where I’m going, I may not see you. Hope to see you on the other side.” he’d say to nobody in particular. Pulling the trigger and putting that last round through the front of his head, effectively destroying his brain, god forbid he becomes one of them. His helmet and mask would be blown off and blood would spurt from his head until he fell to the ground, twitching until the blood flow stopped, effectively deceased.

A journal would be found on the corpse amongst other valuable gear, a single entry in it, the handwriting would be horrible, but after so long of not writing a single word, it was what happened. This single entry would read:

“We’re finally getting out of here. After a hellish stay here I just might survive this whole thing. Maybe start a family once a cure is developed. I’ve always wanted to do that, be a dad for my child and not die prematurely, teach them everything I know. They can pass on that knowledge and develop a lot of hunters to kick off a rebuild of the human race. Wouldn’t that be something?

I’ve never written one of these before, and I will miss quite a few people on this rock that I’ll be leaving behind. Kate, you were an excellent person. You were there for me and helped me get my years back, and we technically got that bath that we talked about at that bath-house, never got that Oktoberfest though, but I’ll still miss you regardless. Maven, sweet little thing, but feisty too. You were there when I just needed to talk, and you liked doing the same with me. I’ll miss seeing you around. And I’ll miss the rest of the Deimos crew, a lot of bright minds they are. No idea why they are being left, but perhaps it’s better that way. There’s quite a few others I met along the way that I may have forgotten, but I have horrible memory, I wish the best to all of you in Arklay. I may have been reclusive, a dick, or cold-hearted, but I had high hopes for many of you. You proved you could survive.

Next time I write, I should be sitting pretty and having a good time, might be able to relax for once in my life and have a can of beans. See you next time journal.”