Collection Agency-Part 2 of the Undead Chronicles

The second part of the series... A team of CIA agents is sent to Sudan to investigate an Ebola outbreak.

                The small abodes of Sudan’s citizens slowly turned from isolated dots into a small cluster of crude houses with dirt streets separating them as the helicopter glided over the town, the rotors thumping through the air as they rotated. The helicopter slowed down and drifted lower and lower to the ground until the wheels of the landing gear sank into the dirt a little bit as the weight of the machine displaced itself on the surface of the dirt. The rotors continued to spin, sending flurries of dust out and away from the landing sight, creating a fog like collection of dirt particles, hindering the sight of any passerby or observer of the landing. The black metal of the vehicle sent off radiating waves of heat amidst the atmosphere as the doors slung open. Eight men filed out of the flying personnel carrier and ran over to a line of trees that casted a sliver of shade across the landing zone.

                The men were cladded in a new HAZMAT suit designed for combat situations by the Department of Defense.  The suit was airtight and solar powered, the sun charging a battery to be used during nocturnal operations. Kevlar lined the underneath and an internal fan breathed cool air onto the body of the wearer. A tube ran from a water pouch on the back to the mouth of the operator to allow easy hydration. The headgear filtered the air to turn even anthrax infested oxygen particles into breathable oxygen within a matter of seconds. Built in Bluetooth headsets allowed near instant and easy communication. The men wearing these suits carried with them a collection of metal suitcases and plastic satchels as they strolled into the small town.

After walking a few yards, the line of men turned right down a narrow street. Wooden doors sparsely lined the walls of the buildings with only small holes for windows. The living conditions were utterly horrible in this town, as they were in most of eastern Africa, but the team was not here on an aid mission; they were here for a research objective. The team of CIA agents was sent here to collect water samples from the well of the town and to collect blood and tissue samples from those infected with Ebola IV.  Scientists back in the US wanted to dissect this new form of Ebola and find out what makes the virus tick and how it can be spread between populations. It was unknown if the virus spread through airborne or waterborne means but they were sure the exchange of bodily fluids would instantly infect the victim. For the past three months, major cities in Sudan have done their best to hinder sexual intercourse, to no avail of course, and to monitor the water supplies and have only allowed foreign aid agents to enter and leave the country. This series of regulations was requested of the Sudan government by the United Nations after the first week of Ebola IV reports.

The team of US agents made their way to the well, the solar powered fans did little to provide any source of comfort in the heat but it was better than being in a confined space of still air. Upon arriving at the well, near the center of the town, the team took notice of the people, or the lack thereof. The town was almost completely deserted except for the sounds of coughing and the blood red eyes staring at the group of strangers that accompanied each window.

“Davis, get the bucket and bring it up from the bottom of the well. Nickols get out the viral containers and be ready. The rest of you, move on to the Witch Doctor location and set up. We will follow as soon as we are finished here,” instructed the commander of the mission, Jacob Sizemore. The Witch Doctor location was the codename of the “hospital” the town used to keep the sick, well the infected they could fit anyway. Most of the town had come down with Ebola but the village’s doctor had already taken samples for the team and only had to pick them up and examine a few patients.

Daniel Davis, a former Marine and the father of his newborn daughter, Cheryl, had come with the team as a bodyguard of sorts just in case the mission went sour. He followed Sizemore’s orders and grabbed the moldy rope that led to the bottom of the well. He began to pull the bucket up to ground level as Alex Nickols, the team’s viral specialist got ready to fill his containers with the supposedly infected water source. Once the tubes were filled, the three operatives made their way towards the town’s doctor’s office. The building was two stories but was in no better condition than the houses the denizens resided in. Dirt and wood made up the walls and the floor was a layer of straw. Stones held up pieces of wood to create beds for the patients and the whole room smelled of urine and fecal matter, topped with the smell of decaying flesh.

The smallest of the eight, Kevin Green, approached the old medicine man in the small hospital and shook his hand. The latex glove of Kevin squeaked as it rubbed on the callused hands of the native. They spoke in a foreign language, one Davis did not understand nor desired to learn, and after a brief conversation, the doctor handed Kevin a small goat-hide satchel of samples and led Kevin, Nickols, and two other medical specialists of the team to a room in the back. Davis, Sizemore, Tannerson, and Hopkins were left in the “lobby” by themselves, except for the sick and dying inhabitants of the medicine man’s workplace.

A few minutes passed and Tannerson, the youngest of the group, alerted Sizemore and Davis, the highest ranking operatives of the team, to a sudden stir of movement in the streets.

“Sirs, the natives are starting to crowd around us. It appears they think we are hostile for some reason. What do we do?” Sizemore looked outside as Davis headed into the next room to find the doctors.

“Pull out your billfolds ladies. We may have a hostile situation on our hands. Do not fire until I give the order, copy?” ordered Sizemore has he brought out his FMG-9 foldable machine gun, or “billfold” as he had taken to calling them. The guns’ sights shot up as the stocks jutted out and the clips fell into the hands of each agent. All eight of them were ready at the door, prepared to make a dead sprint towards the helicopter. A loud crash echoed throughout the building, causing Davis to turn around and take notice of the slowly advancing group of infected patients. Davis turned around and put his left hand up, symbolizing to cease movement. The sick horde kept coming towards the line of Americans, deathly groans and stenches pouring out from their mouths. Black fluid poured out of their mouths as blood began to drip from their eyes and nostrils. The nearest one lunged at Davis, who, disobeying orders, fired three rounds into the face of the attacker. A tap on his shoulder alerted Davis to his teammates leaving the building. He followed suit but not before firing a few more rounds into the crowd.

The team was now in a full sprint past the well when they ran into another crowd. Sizemore opened fire and the others took that as the fire-at-will command they had been itching to hear. Bursts of gunfire rang throughout the walls of the dirt shells that were the buildings. Native after native dropped to the ground but they would shortly rise back up to continue their advance. The team was losing ground and being slowly backed into a corner when Kevin ordered everyone to follow him. He turned around and placed his foot on the window sill of a building and pulled himself up to the roof. He turned around and Nickols handed him the samples and diagnostics of the patients. Kevin then helped pull Nickols up to the roof. Davis soon followed, assisting Tannerson up the wall as well. When it came Sizemore’s turn, the closest infected townsperson attacked him, slashing through the back of his suit, cutting the lashes that held the Kevlar in place. The slash was followed up by a bite to the forearm. Davis shot the assailant in the face and pulled Sizemore the rest of the way up. Tannerson pulled out a red flare and threw it up into the air.

The team was out of ammo and the horde continued to advance, now attempting to climb the building. Punches were being thrown into the faces and abdomens of the people, the team making every attempt to keep the crowd off the building. Tannerson lost a boot trying to kick one of the natives back and another threw up onto his mask, forcing him to take it off. Two of the suits had been compromised and one had been in direct contact with the body fluids of an infected. The Blackhawk drifted over and hovered above the building, lower a ladder down to allow the team to evacuate the operation area. The suitcases were carried up first and then the rest of the group followed and headed back towards Egypt where they would receive medical attention.

After thirty days of isolation, neither Tannerson nor Sizemore showed any signs of infection. They were sent home a month later than the rest of the team…

Author's Note

ignore grammar issues and please read the first part before reading this. Please rate and leave reviews

Reviews

[Jules Carson]

If you're still looking for input on the story, a la, what you asked in the first, I would like to say they are CIA agents, have you thought about having them originally releasing the Virus? Then trying to cover it up back home? Such as the news reporter in the first story saying it had reported false data a week later or something? But anyway, overall, good story I would like to see a follow up, it could be a good read. From the first part, your writing style seems to have changed slightly, but for the better though.