[spoiler]Sorry, this is a bit of a shorter one, I'll try to lengthen the next chapter. [/spoiler] [i]This story assumes that the USSR never fell apart in 1991 and that the Cold War is still going on. Major Andrei Yegorov, Comittee for State Security (First Chief Directorate), 16th of September 2021 [/i] It was awfully silent in the church, whose heavy walls managed to muffle the sound of automatic gunfire and tormented screams. Even the outside nightmares couldn’t disturb the peace of God’s house. This silence was however quickly broken by a raw voice shouting, echoing through the dark, seemingly empty church. “Freeze, motherf*cker! If ya move even an inch yer f*cking dead!” Another voice, much calmer, spoke up. “Easy there, Private. I reckon that it’s clear that this man isn’t one of those things outside” Suddenly, about eight soldiers rose up from between the benches, where they had built a barricade of some sorts. Andrei could barely make out an M249 aimed right at his chest, so he was sure to keep his hands off his Kalashnikov, which was hanging on his left shoulder with the weathered leather strap. A large man approached him, clearly intending to act as the spokesperson of the little group. “Sergeant Patrick O’Shea, US Army. How’s your evening, citizen?” the soldier said whilst half-heartedly saluting. He sounded tired. “Not too bad”, Andrei joked. “Name’s Andrew, by the way. I live here” The Sergeant did not see through the Russian’s lie and kept talking, as he guided Andrei towards the others. “It seems that this isn’t the quiet summer night we all hoped for, am I right?” Major Yegorov simply nodded. “You’ve already met Private Wilkins here”, O’Shea said, pointing at a small but muscular man sitting behind an M249 light machine gun. “and this is the rest of the platoon, or what’s left of it”, he continued. Andrei looked around the small circle of men, his gaze lingering on each tired and bloodied face. Their uniforms were dirty and torn apart in various places, muck covering their patches. They had clearly been to hell and back. Sergeant O’Shea lit up a cigarette and sat down on a wooden crate. “I know what you’re thinking. That we must be desterters. I assure you, we’re not. Moments before those… things broke through, our commanding officer told us to spread out and try to survive to tell the world about the tragedy going on here. However, ever since we escaped the horde, we’ve been hiding in this church. It appears that those creatures don’t even want to set foot in it” “So there aren’t really any organized battle lines left?” Andrei asked. “None that we know of”, the Sergeant replied, ending the conversation. The next twenty minutes offered a very needed rest for the exhausted Andrei. Some of the soldiers even closed their eyes, tucked between the heavy wooden benches, putting faith into the safety of the church. Suddenly, one of these soldiers, apparently the only one in the platoon with a working radio, woke up and grabbed his earpiece. After silently listening for about a minute, the man moved over to Sergeant O’Shea and whispered something into his ear. O’Shea frowned, and then nodded. Grabbing his rifle and backpack, he started waking up the others, whispering: “Alright, boys. We’ll get evacuated within fifteen minutes from a field a bit North of here. If we’re not there at that time, we’ll get left behind, so we better get a move on” They sneaked out of the church, carefully watching their surroundings before sprinting across the street, the sound of their heavy combat boots masked by the ongoing firefight. Avoiding any form of contact, they managed to stealthily reach the grassy field within ten minutes, where a large force of US troops had already established a small perimeter, taking a knee whilst aiming towards the dark edges of the field, which was slowly being consumed by fog. It was eerily quiet, as none of the beasts had discovered them… yet. One by one, the groups of soldiers started to trickle in, all of them looking around them with the same paranoid, traumatized eyes, all of them telling the same story: they had found a hiding place. The men who had tried to fight the creatures didn’t return, and they’d probably never do. The Chinooks arrived, three in total, and Andrei, technically classified as a civilian, was allowed to enter amongst the first. He watched as scientists in haz-mat suits loaded sealed containers into the helicopters, carefully stacking them in the large transport vehicles. Soon, the soldiers started embarking as well, eager to leave this doomed place. However, the sound of the helicopters had finally attracted the attention of the monsters, who came charging from the bushes. The few soldiers still holding the perimeter immediately opened fire, but the feral creatures were rapidly closing in, as for every downed creature, two more charged forth. “Evacuation in 60 seconds!” the speaker of Andrei’s Chinook stated, while the first CH-47 was already lifting off. The soldiers had now abandoned their defensive line and were rapidly walking backwards, still trying to keep the blood-thirsty horde at bay. None of them fled, not even when they were quickly overran, as the horde washed over them like a bloody wave, a swiftly moving mass of rotten flesh. “We’re leaving now!” one of the pilots shouted to the back, and started the lift-off procedure. This took some time, and the first of the beasts started to reach the helicopter, but they were easily repelled by a guy hip-firing an M249. Luckily, the majority of the ferals were still being held up by pockets of resistance, surrounded US soldiers who refused to accept their fate. Out of the blue, a monster came stumbling out of the cockpit, blood spilling from it’s open, abnormally wide mouth. It lunged at a frightened soldier, but someone shot it out of the sky with a shotgun blast. While the beast was still stunned, an exceptionally brave man grabbed it by the arm and tossed it out of the vehicle. He then rammed his fist on the button to close the heavy loading doors, sealing off the only entrance to the Chinook. However, the monster had came from the cockpit, so most of the passengers were looking that way, some even keeping their rifle at the ready. The second pilot appeared in the doorway, blood and gore spilled all over his green uniform. He could not hide the panic in his voice as he said: “One of ‘em bastards broke through the window and got Joe! This thing ain’t gonna fly without a second pilot! Anyone here who can fly choppers?” As the scratching on the outside became louder with the second, everyone was simply staring at each other, hoping for that one miracle. “I will act as co-pilot”, Andrei calmly said, as he was trained to fly helicopters by the KGB. A sigh of relief went through the crowd, and while Andrei passed by, some even patted him on the back. He had just saved their lives, everyone knew that. Major Yegorov entered the cockpit, and was met with a gruesome sight. The previous co-pilot, who apparently was called Joe, had his lungs brutally ripped out of his chest. Not intent on wasting any time, Andrei pushed aside the corpse and finished the lift-off sequence. It had been too long since he had flown a CH-47, and his hands were slippery due to Joe’s blood, but because of the urgency of the situation, he managed to lift the huge Chinook off the grassland. They quickly started to pick up speed, and after Andrei had pushed an especially stubborn creature out of the broken window, the helicopter set his course to the East, leaving the carnage that was the town of Springfield behind them. Before disappearing into the clouds, Andrei could see that the field was now filled with the beasts, who had swarmed the third and final Chinook. The vehicle was slowly falling onto his side, and it was clear that it would never lift off, nor would the poor souls within. “Where are we headed?” Andrei asked. The pilot’s hands were still shaking from what had happened earlier as he replied. “Hunter Army Airfield” TO BE CONTINUED [spoiler]Main page: https://www.bungie.net/en/Forum/Post/245402812/0/0[/spoiler]