“Take a look,” he said to Neil, as he punched the camera number he had been looking at into the larger monitor between him and Neil. “Looks like we have a guy out there. Looks to be stumbling or drunk.” He was squinting but just couldn’t make it out. The tree line was a good 150 yards away and the camera wasn’t made for details that far off.
The lieutenant stood up from his seat behind Kyle and walked over to the small operations area. “Have XR-23 take a look,” he directed to Neil. XR-23 was one of two mobile units that patrolled the countless roads, paved and dirt, that existed on the property.
“XR-23, XR-20, we have an unidentified person on the tree line in front of XR-3 position, please respond. XR-3 and XR-7 cover.”
“Copy that,” came the responses from the two posts. Kyle was squinting at the larger monitor trying to make out what the guy was doing. “Looks like he doesn’t know what he’s doing,” he said, as he saw the white Tahoe drive up on the screen, lights flashing.
Kyle watched as the large white Tahoe drove to the site and pulled off the road onto the grass. A large man half-stumbled out of the SUV, turned and reached back inside for his rifle. Kyle watched him sling the weapon over his right shoulder so it would be accessible quickly if he needed it. “That’s Brian,” Kyle thought, looking at his stomach size. The unidentified man was now about twenty feet from the SUV and the Tahoe.
Kyle didn’t know what Brian was thinking, but he felt a little excitement rush through him, this was defiantly out of the ordinary around here. It wasn’t every day that something this exciting happened at the plant. A second Tahoe drove up, parked at an angle to the first, and a second officer, this one skinny as a rail, hopped out of the truck. The skinny officer gave Brian a jerky nod and lifted his rifle halfway to the firing position. Both were behind their engine blocks as Brian picked up a microphone that was attached to his roof and cleared his throat.
“Sir, this is plant security, you are trespassing on private property. Please show us your hands and stop walking.”
Kyle heard the warning come through the radio and watched for a response from the stumbling man. The command center was completely quiet as they all watched what was going on. The lieutenant was standing directly behind the sergeant’s chair, and Patrick was behind his chair trying to rest his elbows on the top, pulling his chair back.
The man didn’t see to hear, or if he did, he didn’t respond at first. A moment later the man tilted his head up in the air as if he were an animal smelling his prey. He slowly turned his head toward Brian and jerkily began to stumble toward him. Kyle could see the two men glance at each other before Brian turned his head back toward the advancing man.
As the man got closer his image became more clear. What Kyle first thought was dirt on the man’s arm seemed to be something else, something darker. He couldn’t really tell the color but it looked dark in some places. There also appeared to be lesions or tears on his face and arms. His clothes were torn and shredded, probably in no small part to the forest he just walked through. He also didn’t seem able to focus very well, as he seemed to be jerking his head with little motor control.
“That guy must have had one good time last night,” whispered Patrick, close to Kyle’s ear. He was supposed to be leaving on a tour but he didn’t seem anxious to leave.
“Something is weird about this guy,” Kyle said, as he looked at the lieutenant. The lieutenant just nodded and kept looking at the video.
“Call Code Orange,” he said quietly to the sergeant.
Neil nodded. “All units, all units, Code Orange. I repeat Code Orange. Count off in order.” Code Orange was the signal to ready all firearms, to open gun ports, and be ready. Code Orange meant there was a threat but attack wasn’t imminent. Kyle couldn't remember when they had a previous one, if they ever did.
Kyle tuned out the radio and looked back at the monitor. He manipulated the joystick to the camera and zoomed in a little more. His eyes squinted as he focused on the stumbling man.
“Neil, that guy has a wound on forearm, it looks to be a really bad one,” he stopped and squinted harder. “It looks as if that part of his arm is missing.”
He leaned back in his chair and felt Patrick almost draped completely over the top of the chair. He was beginning to feel a little fearful. He had experienced the feeling many times in the Middle East. It was the feeling of wanting to freeze and hide, of feeling your body working against you, of controlling your actions. It was a companion that he hadn’t missed. The man tripped, fell, rose shakily, and kept stumbling closer to the big officer. Brian for his part was quite nervous. He couldn’t remember if they trained him for anything like this, and if they did, he was having a hell of a time remembering it. He knew he wasn’t supposed to let someone just walk up to him, especially someone who looked as if they had just drunk a bottle of Jack Daniels and fallen out of a hay wagon. The man sounded as if he was trying to talk, to cry out, but only gurgles advanced from him in a non-rhythmic chorus.
Brian felt his stomach twist, his hands shake. Ten feet. He placed his right hand on the plastic release that kept his 9 millimeter pistol tucked into his hip harness. Sweat began to roll down his hairy, fleshy arm making his fingers moist. “I might have to pull my gun,” he thought.
Kyle was glued to the monitor, and the command center was tense as a spring waiting to see what would happen. Kyle began to wonder what the lieutenant was going to order, he found himself thankful that he didn’t have to make the call. Shooting someone seemed to be a bad way to start the day. He really didn’t think it would go that far, of course.
The lieutenant behind him and to the left spoke, “Get 2 and 7 to zero in but keep safeties on.” The sergeant quickly followed through with the orders. “Have XR-22 go pepper spray, tell him to remember to evade.” The information again went out.
Brian heard and acknowledged the instructions; his hand was beginning to shake a little more as he pulled the small canister of pepper spray out and flipped the cap to fire. They had been trained to fire a straight shot just above the eyes and to retreat in an L-fashion in case the person continued to go straight. Brian risked a quick glance at his fellow officer. He was a guy named Finn. He was a shaggy, anorexic man of unidentifiable years. His face was lean and hard as a new corpse, with the same accompanying smell about him. He too had drawn his spray from his loosely worn gun belt.
“I’ll cover ya,” he drawled, making sure that he kept away from the advancing man.
Brian straightened his fleshly arm and warned the man a last time, “Sir, this is private land. I need you to stop and get on your knees.”
The stumbling grey man only increased his pace and, if anything, seemed to growl louder. The smell of rot and feces floated before the man. His steps became quicker as his head lifted into the air. He was closing. His hands reached before him like a man searching in a dark room, his fingers were reaching, moving in twitchy spasms.
Brian made the decision. He sprayed the man, a clear ballistic spray shot out of the canister and landed on his forehead, face, and neck. His fear caused him to forget the short controlled burst as he jammed the button. The spray showed no sign of working as the grey man reached a visibly-shaking Brian who was attempting to walk backward. Brian stumbled, tripped and went down. His large bulk and guns helping to make it graceless and painful. The grey man followed Brian down and latched onto his outstretched hand. He sunk his teeth deep into the forearm and began to pull his head back.
“Oh shit, he’s eating me!” came the scream from the confused and panicked Brian. On reflex he brought his other hand up in a wild, out of control roundhouse. The blow was sufficient to knock the crazed grey man off of him but he was able to carry away a bloody portion of his arm. Brian started to scoot back on the ground like a crab.
Finn finally came out of his trance to lean down and try to pick up the massive burden that was Brian. They had managed to move a few feet when the powerful sound of a rifle hit them, quickly followed by another, and was instantly followed by the grey man hitting the ground. Finn reached across his vest, grabbed his radio and called in, not sure what he should do. Kyle saw the incident play out before him in black and white, a shocked expression on his face. His body almost tingled with nerves and tension. It was a surreal feeling watching on a monitor while knowing it wasn’t TV. The lieutenant had immediately given the call to fire after the man had attacked Brian. Josh was a little impressed by his decisive thinking, seemingly not worried at all if it was the correct call. He wondered how the officer in the tower felt, putting two rounds into another person. He knew it wasn’t a great feeling.
“Smalls, Patrick, escort them into the protected area,” commanded the lieutenant, his face grave. He gave them a small nod full of tension and quickly turned back to the sergeant who was busying making calls to local law enforcement. Kyle and Patrick got up, hoisted their rifles, extra magazines, and swiped out of the protected room.
Kyle and Patrick were waiting at the inner gate along with the plant’s doctor and a few other big wigs who he didn’t know. Josh still felt the receding wave of adrenaline that had washed over him earlier. His body was still tense and felt ready to spring, but he could feel himself relaxing as normal operations began to begin around the chaos that was. He thought of his brother and suddenly just wished they were still surfing and cooking burgers out on the sand. “Bastard is probably still sleeping,” he thought.
The doctor quickly went to examine Brian's wound as the gate opened. Kyle wanted to point out the rules they were violating, but didn’t think it was a big deal so didn’t bother.
“Making it Brother?” asked Pat, his voice one of concern, which was a departure from his typical craziness. Brian gave a short reply, not really a word but an acknowledgement. Pat looked at Kyle, who gave him a shrug and led them off. “Brian doesn’t seem to be that bad off, but the guy does feel hot,” Kyle thought, as the group walked back into the protected area to find the doctor's office. He was a little out of sorts, but Brian was a big, sloppy guy to begin with. He had some blood on his shirt and pants, but it wasn’t too much. The wound had been covered by a doctor who was leading Brian with an arm.
It took eight minutes to get to the doctor’s office; Kyle could hear the sirens from the direction where the intruder had been. He was grateful not to be assigned to that mess, it being much quieter in the doctor’s office. Patrick and him were standing quietly off to one side, trying to stay out of the way and not look at the Brian’s arm.
The doctor was mumbling to himself as he was examining the patient, “You’re burning up, a very high fever.” He lectured Brian as if he had asked for it, “Were you sick when you came to work today?”
Kyle was staring at the floor, not really listening to the doctor. He was thinking of the incident, wondering at the state of the confused man. His death seemed so sudden, so pointless. It left a sour taste in his mouth to think of it. His nerves calmed and he was vaguely listening to the radio traffic that was coming through quietly on his radio.
“Doc, I’m gon...be...sick,” Brian mumbled incoherently from the hospital-like bed he was laying on. He had been stripped of all his equipment and shirt, his bulbous upper body sweating and shivering. He began to jerk on the bed, small movements at first, then rapidly they became bed-shaking movements. The doctor, franticly began to work on the patient while being knocked about by the struggling man.
“Hold him!” the doctor yelled. Kyle, feeling a little ashamed at not helping sooner, despite his helplessness, quickly went to offer assistance. He nodded to Pat to take the other side and they tried to hold his shoulders down, while trying hard to stay out of the doctor’s way.
“You should hold his tongue,” Patrick offered helpfully. “I saw it done before.” He had moved to down to hold Brian’s leg, which was threatening to kick the doctor.
“What?” Kyle asked incredulously, his face strained.”This isn’t
E.R.
” He could barely keep his body down. “Doc, what are we supposed to do?” The doctor continued to work, ignoring the question.
The monitor on the wall began to beep sporadically, creating a serene situation in which Kyle felt he was in a TV series. The beeping suddenly slowed, as if now finding slumber in the leisurely tone. Kyle backed away from Brian, turning to look at the doctor.
"He's alive?" Kyle asked, with hope.
"It seems that way, though his heart should not beat that slowly." The doctor continued to examine the inactive sergeant. As if hearing the last statement, the monitor breathed with new life again, its rapid peeps matching the heartbeats on the screen.
"A miracle," Patrick said, raising his hands as if he just scored the winning field kick. Though profusely sweating and tired, he seemed exultant at the news.
“I don’t understand it,” mumbled the doctor. “He went into a seizure for some reason, and now his heart is beating faster than ever.” He looked at Kyle, who for his part, gave the doctor a questioning look back. It was, however, when the doctor’s head was turned that Patrick cried for their attention.
“Doc!” Patrick yelled. “He's coming round!” Patrick, in his earnestness, ran up to Brian and began to shake his shoulders in order to help his revival.
“Move!” commanded the doctor, as he pushed Patrick out of the way. Soft moans could now be heard from Brian, which Kyle thought justified with all that he had been through.
Brian’s moaning stopped, and his eyes, which were now covered in a milky-white covering, landed on the doctor. Kyle, startled, jumped back to collide with the wall behind him. He started to instantly feel shame for the act, only to see Brian lean up and grab the doctor by the hair. Brianpulled the thin doctor down and bit him deeply on the cheek. Kyle could hear the sound of teeth digging into flesh, fresh bright blood spurted and flowed everywhere. The doctor, struggling to free himself from the bite, let out a piercing scream. His efforts were futile though as Brian had temporarily gotten a mouth full and had leaned back to chew the fresh meat.