Fireteam Delta by J. Halpin (ebook reader that looks like a book txt) 📕

gun leveled on her by a nervous, screaming private or she had a death wish. It was at that point that Summers noticed the sheer amount of blood in the hallway behind her. There were bodies everywhere, and dozens of naked men and women hovering over them.

“We need to leave!” the woman screamed again, just before lunging for Adams. To his credit, Adams didn’t hesitate. He fired a controlled burst straight into the woman’s sternum, and she dropped before she could close the distance. Whatever fog was in Summers’ head cleared at the sight of the corpse hitting the ground, and he looked for his own weapon, trying to make sense of the situation.

What he found was a body beside him; he recognized it as one of the new soldiers. They were outfitted in full kit, with grenades and extra magazines. He looked ready for war. Or at least, he would be, if Summers could find his lower half. The empty grenade pouch at his side might explain both that and Summers’ recent nap.

“What in the fuck is happening?” Summers turned to Adams, who was still staring at the body of the woman he’d just shot. Summers followed his gaze, and finally got a good look at the woman. Her skin looked paper thin, nearly translucent against a sickly thin, bony frame. And her face. Somehow, it just looked off. Moreover, it was covered in moss, sticks, and blood, especially around the mouth area. Didn’t take a genius to put two and two together on that. He turned to the rest of the group in the hall leading to the bunker.

He’d assumed they were checking on the wounded; the nudity, he was still trying to reason out. But as he finally really looked, he could see that they were tearing huge chunks of flesh from the exposed areas of the corpses. They were eating them.

“Well, shit,” Summers said absently.

“I didn’t mean to.” Summers turned to Adams, who was still staring at the woman on the ground.

“Adams, I need you to tell me what’s happening!” Summers tried to get the private’s attention.

“Stay back!”

Summers’ head snapped up as he saw another naked figure heading down the hall toward them.

“Stay back!” he heard it say again. He watched in horrified fascination as it ambled toward them, its body twisting into a wider, more masculine shape. Most worrying of all though was that the voice was familiar. It was speaking with Adams’ voice. More followed behind it, the group as a whole breaking into a full sprint down the hallway and directly toward Summers and Adams.

Something must have snapped in Summers head. Either he had a concussion, had had a stroke, or the stress of his situation had gotten to him. Logically, he should have realized that something was wrong as he reached down toward the dead soldier. He’d just been knocked unconscious, and now he was seeing things that couldn’t logically be real. If he was smart, he’d put down his gun and wait for someone at the base to help him before he hurt anyone. Those thoughts raced through his head as he felt the pin of the dead soldier’s grenade come loose. At the sudden realization that Mr. Grenade was no longer his friend, he tossed it into the hall and dove for cover.

The explosion that slammed into him felt like a baseball bat to his ribs. His head was dug into the ground beside the small entrance to the bunker. Adams must have seen him toss the grenade, because he had the good sense to hit the ground as well. As he cautiously looked up, he saw several of the base’s guards heading in their direction.

“What in the fresh fuck is going on?” were the first words he heard after his ears had stopped ringing. He looked up to find Colonel Braun standing a healthy distance away. The colonel snapped out a few orders, and Summers saw a couple of privates take off, presumably to round up more people. Braun approached Adams, but the kid was still too shell-shocked to get a coherent sentence out.

The hallway looked devoid of life now. There might have been some twitching, but Summers wasn’t about to check. He looked back to find the colonel staring at him. If he’d been asked a question, he hadn’t heard it. Probably another bad sign.

“Sir, we were standing guard when the doors blew out. We heard gunfire, and then the woman at Adams’ feet attacked us. I’m not sure what’s happening inside.” Summers wisely left out the part where he blew himself up a second time. He tried to get to his feet, but immediately realized that was a mistake. He sat on his ass as the colonel scrutinized him.

“You and you, watch the door and shoot anything not wearing a uniform.” The colonel indicated two armed MPs.

“Sir?” one of the MPs said in reply, rightfully skeptical about a kill order on their own base.

“Kill anything not wearing army fatigues. Do I make myself clear?” the colonel repeated.

“Yes, sir,” the MPs said in unison.

Nowak must have shown up in the confusion, because just as Summers tried to get to his feet for a second time, he felt an arm pull him up.

“I got you, brother,” Nowak said, hefting Summers up.

“The rest of you, kit up. I want every man we have on this exit asap. Summers, Adams, you’re with me. I don’t want to hear a single word out of your mouths until I give you the all-clear,” the colonel said. The officers around them moved to follow through with the orders as Nowak more or less dragged Summers in the colonel’s wake.

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“You heard a scream?” the colonel asked. Summers was seated beside Adams in what was quickly becoming the control center for—as the colonel had put it—whatever the fuck was happening.

“Yes,