City of the Dead

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Chapter Five

The command center at the Arklay mansion exploded into action, with hundreds of soldiers running around like ants in an anthill. A line of huge black Humvees sped away from the mansion like a macho funeral procession, and massive transport helicopters rose up from the side yard, tilting forward like an armada of attacking wasps. The rush of air from the spinning blades bent down the trees along the edge of the yard and blew a torrent of leaves across the front lawn like a hurricane.

Nicholai shoved the tent flap aside with a swing of his arm and strode out onto the wide front parking lot, followed by half a dozen soldiers wielding assault rifles. All around them, troops grabbed equipment from long tables and supply cases, and hurried to the remaining choppers still waiting to take off.

“All the communication lines in the city are down,” one of the soldiers said.

“And the roads?” Nicholai grunted.

“Blocked.”

Damascus Kelly burst from the front doors of the mansion. He wore a white t-shirt underneath his unbuttoned dress shirt, and his hair was uncombed. He jumped down the front steps two at a time and ran up to Nicholai and the others.

“What’s going on?” he asked breathlessly. “I thought we decided to wait.”

“No time now,” Nicholai said, not slowing down. Kelly hurried to keep up with them as they went to the line of Humvees. “The disease has struck the city. We got word a quarter of an hour ago.”

“Oh, Jesus,” Kelly muttered.

“I am sending all available men,” Nicholai said. “Every soldier under my command is being sent to the city as we speak.”

Two more helicopters roared over their heads, causing Kelly to flinch and look upward, trying to button up his shirt. Nicholai ignored him and snapped at the other troops, “I want a report as soon as I get to the control station.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And I want status reports on all the assault teams every half an hour.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Are you going to the city park?” Kelly asked. “Should I come with you?”

“Of course not,” Nicholai scoffed. “You will only be in the way.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Contact your superiors. Tell them the situation.”

“And what about you?”

The soldiers accompanying them ran off and boarded one of the Humvees. Nicholai kept walking forward with Kelly trailing behind him like a lost puppy.

A black helicopter rested on the very edge of the lawn, blades slowly spinning. A helmeted pilot sat at the controls, and four more armed troops were strapped in, assault rifles cradled over their chests.

Nicholai stopped a few paces from the helicopter and turned to face Kelly. “I am going to do my job, Mister Kelly. I will try to save your city.”

Kelly nodded but said nothing. Nicholai stepped backwards and turned to walk to the helicopter, slapping the pilot’s window with his hand as he climbed inside. The chopper lifted up into the air, leaving Kelly standing along in the parking lot, staring up into the air.

Nicholai leaned back and clicked his seat belt, glancing out across the Arklay Mountains as the chopper soared upward. He put on a black headset with ear muffs to muffle the deafening sound of the rotors. He spoke into the mouthpiece.

“Take us around the city,” he said. “I want to see what is happening.”

When they reached Raccoon City, the pilot obediently flew the chopper on a long arc around the whole city. Nicholai leaned out, casting a harsh, calculating gaze down to the city below.

Most of the streets were packed with cars, the heaviest traffic jams on the roads heading out of the city. All three of the major arteries through the city were completely gridlocked, the roads all effectively blocked just at the limits of the city by UBCF troops, keeping anyone from entering or leaving the city. Nicholai had already given the orders to shoot on sight any individual who tried to avoid the roadblocks. For now, they had enough manpower to maintain the roadblocks, but Nicholai wondered how long they could keep them.

He could see people below, running loose in the streets. He could not hear gunshots, but with the roar of the blades above his head, he was not surprised. But he knew that shots were being fired, either by his own troops or by residents in the city. He could see bodies in the streets, lying motionless on the pavement, sometimes surrounded by others. From this height, it was almost impossible to tell who was infected and who was not.

He could see hazy towers of smoke here and there, from random fires breaking out across the city. There were smashed cars, some of them blocking roads and some of them wrecked in yards or wrapped around trees. As Nicholai watched the carnage unfolding underneath him, he could see groups of people roving through the wreckage, some of them armed.

Perhaps it was not so hard to tell the difference between the infected and the non-infected after all. Nicholai watched the violence with a strategist’s eye, trying to get a better idea of how to best command his troops against such an erratic foe.

“Take me to the central command post,” he said.

The helicopter soared over the city and descended into Raccoon City Park, taking Nicholai to the command center. He jumped off the chopper when it was still hovering a few feet in the air, and landed on the soft grass. The helicopter landed as he walked away, and the armed troops on board came after him.

At the command post, he took possession of an assault rifle like the ones his men carried. In order to effectively organize the defense of the city, he needed to see things from ground level. The only way do to his job was to go out and see the zombies himself.

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