Rolling Thunder (Infected)

It was Saturday morning when the higher ups decided we needed to start corralling the morons in the cities. We were low on ammo and, to be honest, we didn't want to keep on shooting our dead friends and family. It does something to you after a while and you just snap. Guys started hanging themselves the third week in, ground troops mostly. Except there wasn't a single pilot who did. The military got the idea- kill the walkers in a way that could detach you psychologically. 

When I got inside my Black Hawk, my co-pilot, Mike, was already there. He was cycling through a couple artists on his I-Pod. Looking my way, he asked "Iron Man?"

Smiling, I punched his shoulder "Aww, yeah."

He connected his I-Pod to the four tower speakers occupying the space directly behind us. I put my ear plugs in, tossed my head phones on and turned my bird on. She took of quick, speeding six kilometers towards Toronto. Walkers looked up at our bird. With a moan, they started following our bird towards the city. I pulled our bird to the right and stopped sixty feet over an open field. Grinning, I screamed into my mic. "Turn that up!"

The cockpit began vibrating as we cranked it as loud as it would go. Silence suddenly ensued. I asked "What's wrong?"

Mike sighed "I've heard these songs too much."

Laughing, I un-plugged his I-Pod and plugged my phone in. He tried to grab my phone but I was too quick, holding it over the side of the helicopter. Mike yelled "Come on man!"

Laughing, I played Barbie Girl. Mike sighed "Really Mark? Really?"

My face went loopy and I mouthed "Sure Kent!"

The next hour went the same, except that nearly ten thousand walkers were beneath us. Light disappeared and the sun went down. I donned my NVGs and grabbed my C-7, turning on my infared laser. The infared laser is easily traced from the owner to the target, a long shaft of light- except you can only trace it if you're wearing NVGs. Pilots weren't even supposed to have assault rifles, but some depressed soldiers gave them to us, calling it quits. Those guys failed to hold the cities, who knew what they were going through?

Mike mumbled"I spy with my little eye, some fat chick with a cowboy hat."

After a minute, I gave up asking "Where?"

He pointed the guy out with the infared. I laughed "She's still holding a beer!"

Mike sighed "Screw it, I'm done for tonight. Wanna call in the artillery strike?"

Zooming in I said "Four more minutes, I wanna play Iron Man one last time."

Mike grabbed the radio and stopped, asking me "Hey, you see those IRs?"

I looked through the window and saw three lasers shinning on the walkers below us. They extended all the way to the city. Laughing it of, I said "They're probably just pointing concentrations out."

Mike keyed the radio, asking "Command, this is little bird actual, we got IRs below us. Any idea what they're doing?"

Irritated, I thought at least tell them our location. Sure enough, command said "Uhh, we don't have your location at this time, read it back to us."

Mike read it back. Silence followed. The voice asked "Are you sure those are the co-ordinates?" 

Mike nervously said "Yes, should we bug out?"

"Negative, you are to hold until we have authorization." 

Angry, I grabbed my radio, tuned in and asked "Command, this is Little Bird, what's going on?"

"3rd division may be pa-"

My vision flared as eight thousand pounds of napalm exploded, lifting the black bird into the air. It turned on it's side, literally flying itself sideways into the ground. Disorientated, we did nothing to stop it. When I woke up, it was daytime and Mike was halfways in the ground, dead. Nothing I could do. I crawled out of the cabin, delirious. A walker caught up with me and knawed my arm of. Ironically, that's how I lived. 

The End

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