Red Dawn-The Beginning

Mike smiled and chuckled, "Good one kid, I could get used to you. Just keep cool and we'll see where this goes." Quieter so only Sam, Mila, or anyone else close enough to hear, "And if not, I can think of a few ways to get us out of here before we get conscripted into the army...again..."

Day Two
Washington D.C.
12:45 a.m. EST

Matt sighs as he feels the pain beginning to fade, and coughs up more blood but stops. He tries to sit up but feels dizzy. "Stay down. You lost a lot of blood," Kevin says, then looks up at Sam. "That's a good question. Listen up everyone," he says, turning on his radio. "This is Kevin Roth. My brother, President Jonathon Roth, is downstairs with his remaining loyal staff. Captain Sanders of the 75th Ranger Regiment is securing transportation out of D.C. with his men. We need to hold out for 10 minutes and then we can all get the hell out of here. Roth out."

Just as he finishes, there is yelling and then gunfire, and down below dozens of Wreakers of various types run out of cover, launching an all out attack on the building. The fire is heaviest on the first floor, where two hulking muscle masses of Wreakers are attempting to break down the barricades guarding the building's entrance. More Leapers jump up on the sides, and jump onto the roof, starting another battle.

"Be honest, who the hell didn't see that coming?!" Mike shouted as he moved with everyone else to get into position to defend. Heading to the edge he managed to kick on wreaker in the face, sending him reeling back. A trio of shots forced him to lose his grip.

Crouching down near the edge, Mike was careful not to get too close for fear of falling, or worse getting grabbed. Instead he rested the rifle sights next his eye and fired down below. The shots still echoed in his ear, a sort of buzzing noise that persisted with each sot until it only became a hollow distnat noise. He always heard people could loose their hearing because of the sound of gunshots. If was true then at this rate he'd be deaf before this was over, or dead depending on what comes first.

He was forced to move back though as more crawled over the edge, steadily he stood up and moved back," Stay close by Sam!" he shouted, fearing the kid would loose his nerve again.

Mila staggered onto one foot for a moment as the building shook violently from the repeated poundings it was taking. She almost fell onto her ass, but Daniel steadied her. "Oof, thanks. Jesus, what the heck is going on down there?" She hadn't noticed the additional horde come up, distracted as she had been by the newcomers and by the start of Matthew's recovery. Apparently whatever had been in that vial was working; although still dazed, his skin was already gaining color back.

No sooner had Mila asked, she was rewarded with the answer of several jumpers landing, surprisingly gracefully for a bunch of zombies, onto the roof. "Oh, hell. Circle the wagons!" she yelled, reaching down to pick up Sam's discarded pistol now that her rifle had kissed the pavement. She and Daniel went back to back in front of Sam and Logan respectively. Mike took the East, and Matt sat to the West, clutching his M4 with his expression hidden from the others.

Back to back in a survivor sandwich with filling made of the youngest among them, Mila struggled to find the safety in the darkness. She aimed the weapon up so as not to accidentally shoot something she wasn't meaning to while randomly feeling along the sides of the weapon. When she finally felt the distinctive click, she lowered the weapon only to find that the jumper on her side had left his spot in a leap for her head. With a scream, she fired several times. The first shot hit the things leg, the second its chest, and the third grazed its cheek as it landed on her. She crashed into Sam, who then fell onto York, but somehow Mila held onto the gun firmly.

The wreaker, which looked like it had once been someone's grandmother, now had its rotting fingers around her neck. Mila gasped and shoved her gun into the thing's throat, pulling the trigger. As the head exploded, she shoved the corpse off of her and scrambled to her feet, cringing a little at her scratched leg but stepping back into her spot at the North. "Sorry Sam!" she said without looking back, not wanting to be caught off guard again.

Day Two
Washington D.C.
12:50 a.m. EST

Matthew is feeling better and better, and feels overwhelming thanks towards the president's brother for saving him from becoming a Wreaker. He carefully picks rounds at targets from his position on the roof, Sergeant Knowles sniping, and a Corporal Nather using the M2 Browning, among other Rangers. He had been an hour away from death and conversion. And in a second, his comrades had turned on him, and his newest friends had stuck up for him. Did that mean something? That they were his true friends? Or too weak to do what was necessary? Matthew pondered these questions. Would he rather have died fast or lived in some fashion as a Wreaker after a painful conversion? He knew he would rather die than kill other survivors. But would he have the courage to pull the trigger in a situation with another? These were important questions. However, if Dr. Roth was making advances, maybe this crisis would be resolved soon if he was able to mass-produce a cure. Maybe.

At any rate, he was not safe yet. He had to fight alongside his friends and fellow soldiers so that they could all leave. He twists around to see a leaper attacking Mila, but sees her successfully fend the creature off. Down below, he sees with a sinking heart that the Wreakers have broken through the barricades into the first floor. He knows everyone else knows as well, and readies his secondary weapons for use. He finds another pistol and cleans his crusty knife, and also sticks a wrench he finds into his belt.

Down below, Jonathon hears a loud crash and then yelling, close-range gunfire, and smashing noises. His Secret Service agents dash outside and pull out their weapons, adding their fire to the soldiers'. "Sir, move!" Jonathon and several loyal cabinet members dash outside, and Jonathon sees two huge Wreakers, all muscles and bloodied, slamming soldiers together while absorbing bullets. One finally collapses, having taken too many wounds, but two more thinner Wreakers dash inside, and one begins screeching so high-pitched and loud people sink to their knees. The Wreakers, unaffected, continue killing their defenseless prey. Jonathon realizes he is screaming, and sees a Secret Service agent grabbing him and pushing him to the stairs before collapsing, his eyes rolling into his head. Jonathon crawls up the stairs, one stair at a time, feeling his heart straining to support his body with oxygen. He sees through tears as his loyal Secret Service agents for many years are smashed, ripped, and otherwise killed by Wreakers which quickly fill the first floor. He reaches a door, which opens, where a National Guardsmen helps him inside, asking him questions that Jonathon cannot hear.

Matthew hears loud screeching, and winces. "Screamers! Don earplugs! They must be using them to create a window of opportunity!" He whips out his own military earplugs used for when close to explosions or gunfire, and hands an extra pair to Mila, instructing his men to hand out extra pairs to the civilians, getting his edge back. He also instructs a Private to radio in the advice to everyone else, and bids them good luck as his men return to defending and attacking Wreakers who are swarming the first floor.

Daniel began to turn to help as soon as he felt Mila's back move from his own as the Wreaker took her to the ground but he soon realized he had his own problems. One of the terrible things was rushing for him and he aimed at it's legs and opened fire with his rifle. At this close of a range he couldn't really miss and the knee exploded into bone fragments, red mist, and puss. The thing barely skipped a beat as it drug itself up and ran on a leg that flopped disgustingly behind it the knee bone sticking from the front. He didn't hesitate this time, not even a moment, and raised the rifle and sprayed the rest of the fire directly into its face. He didn't stop until it was still on the ground and then just in time to have another of the things clawing at his throat its jaws snapping at his face.

He smashed it hard in the face several times until its grip lessened and then kicked it away from him scrambling backwards.

"Damn these things don't stop." he said even as he aimed at the one he had just kicked off him and sprayed it with bullets.

"Mila are you okay?" he asked as he glanced over his shoulder to make sure Logan was still safe. He was crying, not suprisingly and had his face nuzzled into York's fur.

"Had a slight weapons malfunction. But, uh, we're fine. We're all fine here, now," she quoted, unable to stop her humor even in a time like this. She was about to finish up the quote with a "how are you?" but a shrill screeching caused her to cringe and cut off her quip. Matt shoved a pair of earplugs into her hands and she immediately shoved them into her ears, checking to make sure everyone else got a pair. Thankfully, there were enough to go around, but there was only one problem: the dog.

York whined miserably, his hearing more sensitive to begin with, and began rubbing his ears on the rooftop and scratching at them with his paws. Even though the screechers or screamers or whatever they were called were still several floors below, the noise was audible even to the humans, let alone the canine. "Logan, I need you to be a big helper, okay? Can you hold onto the doggy's ears for me? Push hard so that he can't hear!" she shouted as loud as she could while trying to overpower the sound of the almost sing-song shrieking. She practically had to get next to him just to be heard, but she made a motion over her own ears and then pointed to show him what she wanted.

"Wait, screamers?! What the hell are screamers?" Mike shouted over the battle but the question was more rhetorical then anything else. He knew they were bad, call it a gut feeling but anything to do with wreakers would be bad in his opinion. He turned back around to unload the last of his clip into a charging wreaker, sending him off the roof in bits and pieces. He didn't have time to congratulate himself though for when he turned around he saw that everyone was getting ear buds into their ears. One of the guardsmen nearby tossed him a pair of ear buds but before Mike could put them on he had to stop when he heard the screaming down on the stairs. He had no idea what it was, these screamers, but they sure sounded like banshees from hell.

He silently cursed to himself and moved his rifle to the side to put in the ear buds but then the unthinkable happened.

He dropped them.

"Crap!" He shouted and dove down to retrieve the bouncing buds but in the darkness on the roof and chaos he searched in vain for them on hands and knees. Suddenly the screaming began to become overwhelming, as if screaming directly into his ear. He swore he could feel blood trickle from deep within his ear as he screamed to match the volume that they had. Grabbing onto both his ears he could do little else as he collapsed. The gun next to him clattered to the ground, the clip coming loose and sending a cascade of unused rounds onto the ground. He didn't notice though, Mikey was in too much pain. He felt as if his eyes were going to burst from their sockets from some unseen pressure and tries as he might he couldn't stop himself from screaming. How stupid could he be? He dropped them, he had dropped them.

The words repeated in his mind over and over above the mind numbing pain that the screams caused. He felt the urge to try and bash his own head in to try and make it go away, to claw at his own face to try and dull the pain with an even greater one. These thoughts came to mind but he could do nothing but wither. His joints seemed to lock up and his hands were permanently attached to his ears attempting to block out the scream as useless as it may have been. He knew he was going to die because of this apocalypse, it was inevitable, he just didn't think it would come so soon.

With the earbuds securely in her ears, Mila didn't notice at first when the shrieking got louder, the screamer making its way toward the top of the stairwell. Nor did she catch Mike's own screaming. What did catch her attention, however, was his thrashing about on the ground.

"Ugh, the cocky bastard had to be the one to screw up his earplugs. Ironic, but we do need his help right now," Mila mused, trying to find what he had done with them in the dimness of the floodlights. Moving to his side, she handed Sam the pistol and gave him a thumbs up. He could shoot; he'd done it before. He just had to be desperate enough. She figured the gun was almost out of ammo anyway. Even though she'd been trying to conserve shots as much as possible, pistols didn't hold much in them. She remembered her friends complaining on occasion about how unrealistic movies were in that regard.

Placing her palms over his hands as best she could, she hoped it would keep him alive until she could figure out another solution. Besides, she hadn't even gotten to make any Obi Wan Kenobi jokes yet.

Meanwhile, on the far end of the roof, two more Rangers stood firing a heavy barrage of bullets down their side of the wall. Suddenly, one of them was set upon by a ... jumper? Whatever. No matter what it was called, the thing had the soldier in its claws and the man's neck in his teeth in one fell swoop. Although one of his comrades spun and fired, killing the leaper almost instantly, the victim had seen what was going to happen next before. He'd happened to miss the fact that Matthew was making a recovery, and, tears in his eyes, promptly put his M4 to a temple and squeezed his finger.

His brains were out of his head before his friend could stop him.

Mila's jaw dropped momentarily, shocked at the suicide. Even though she herself had begged Sam to put a round between her eyes on the last roof they'd been on in the case of things going south, this was rather unexpected. Still, it meant an opportunity she couldn't ignore if she didn't want to watch two people die in a row.

Swiftly releasing her hold of Mike's ears, Mila sprinted to the other corner, careful to avoid any firing that was going on. As she bent to take out the dead man's earbuds, his buddy made an angry expression, like he couldn't believe that she'd dare to loot the corpse so soon. But before he could do anything about it, his ankle was grabbed from behind and he slipped over the edge.

Knowing that more jumpers were inevitably going to come from the now unwatched edge, Mila stood up and bolted for Mike once more, slipping a little as she fell to her knees near his head. Unlike with the M9, her fingers were more competent and she managed to pry the man's hands out of each ear just long enough to slide in the new earbuds. Hopefully she had been fast enough. The guy looked incredibly pale.

In his blind agony Mike had been oblivious to what was happening. It was only him and his pain, that was all he could feel and all he could understand. He felt hands, not his own, covering his ears too, he was thankful for it helped. It really did but it was not enough and only vaguely did he return to the natural world. Just as soon though the hands were gone and the screams came stronger then ever. He had to do something to stop the pain, anything. The pressure in his mind was too much, he had to release it. The cold roof, it felt hard and jagged to the touch, it would be enough to break a skull. His eyes were bloodshot from the tears that welled up in his eyes, he was set on it. He couldn't move his hands but he could rock back and forth, gain enough momentum and. He stopped, the hands were back. Groping and trying to pull his hands away from his ears. He screamed no, obscenities and everything to stop the intrusion.

Suddenly though, the world went to a muffled sound of nothing. He could hear his own breathing, jagged and labored but more importantly he could see and smell what was going on again. His hands were free from their petrification. They were shaky but he could move them. Looking up he saw the chaos and the memory of what happened flooded back and the fear of realizing what he had been prepared to do shook him to his core. He looked up to see Mila, he didn't say a word but his eyes showed his gratitude. He nodded quickly to show he was fine. Looking at his gun he cursed when he saw the glittering bullets littering the cold roof. Looking back at the stairwell he knew it would take too long to reload. Nearby though was a pistol, fallen from the hand from one of the poor souls that fell from the high building to their deaths. Picking it up he checked the ammo then clicked the hammer. Standing up warily, he looked to Mila again and clasped her shoulder as another sign of gratitude. In all essence she had saved his life and more importantly his reputation for not breaking down because of all of this mess. He didn't plan on losing face just yet.

His hand jerked off her shoulder though to the gun as he spotted another crazed shadow make its way up the stairs. He fired twice, the light from the barrel illuminating a horrid face before it fell back down into darkness. Mikey laughed and shouted some obscenity that even he couldn't hear through the earbuds.

Day Two
Washington D.C.
1:00 a.m. ES

Jonathon is handed a pistol, and he raises it, feeling once again like the nervous young soldier at a firing range just before deployment on Operation Desert Storm. About twenty armed men and women stand nervously, the unarmed huddling behind them. The screeching is continuing, but it seems to be coming from above. Strange. They suddenly hear gunfire, and then horrible, human screaming, and then silence. "Third floor must be down," a man whispers. Suddenly, the door makes a thumping noise. Weapons click. Another thump, and a large dent appears. They hear some sort of heavy breathing and scrabbling noises.

Then the door blows in, and a massive, muscular Wreaker runs in. Everyone fires, but blood streams and flesh tear off of the Wreaker without slowing it. The thing knocks a man against a thick pole, smashing his head open, and grabs another and throws him into the ceiling, crushing his rib cage. Another soldier fires his M203 grenade launcher, and it explodes against the creature's face, making it stumble. Another soldier dashes up and blasts the thing's head apart, and the Wreaker collapses. However, two more Wreakers dash in, one armed with an Uzi in one hand and a knife in the other, and the other's fingernails are like claws. The armed Wreaker starts spraying bullets, and the other latches onto a stunned woman and tears her face apart. Jonathon fires and fires again, blowing the Wreaker with the claws back. The Wreaker turns to him, and a soldier dashes up to protect him only to get mauled. Jonathon's pistol clicks empty and he throws it, going for another gun, but the Wreaker is too fast....suddenly, it's neck blows forward and it collapses, and behind him he sees Agent Donovan, his faithful Secret Service agent for years. "Come on sir!" Jonathon sees the other Wreaker preoccupied with another soldier, and Jonathon's relief and joy at seeing Donovan disappears and is replaced by sadness. Jonathon picks up a dropped M4A1 carbine and follows Donovan up the stairwell.

Meanwhile, on the roof, a Jumper leaps onto the roof only to get blown right back off by Sergeant Knowles' rifle. A Banshee clambers out of the stairwell, beginning its shriek, but a man by the name of Sergeant Randall draws a knife and throws it, piercing the Banshee through the eye and into its brain, and it collapses. There is silence, and then another Wreaker stumbles out of the stairwell, toting an M4 in one hand and an M9 in the other. The thing starts spraying rounds, and two soldiers go down hard. Matthew dives for cover and returns fire with his M4, but is only driven behind a cement dome again. He sees Corporal Nather trying to bring the Browning around, only to get hit several times and go flying off the roof. He sees Sergeant Knowles get in one shot to the thing's shoulder before diving behind cover as well. Matthew grits his teeth and pops up, firing an M203 round, which blows off part of its leg, not enough to stop its barrage. It runs out of ammo and reloads with unnatural speed. He quickly checks that all of his new friends are safe, his eyes going to Mila first while his Rangers begin to engage.

Daniel was chuckling even as the horrible sound started. Luckily, he had been handed some ear plugs and shoved them into his ears, then took another set, ripped pieces off so they were smaller, and plugged them into Logan's ears. Logan had listened to Mila and had held the dog's ears for all he was worth. He must have felt so big and brave now having something to do.

Daniel crouched beside both of them and took shots where he could find them, assisting the others in whatever capacity he could. A guardsman would start a barrage and Daniel would add in a few shots, trying to hit the head. He noticed his aim improving the more he handled the weapon. Oddly enough, even though FPS weren't murder simulators as the worthless Jack Thompson stated, they did give him a greater sense of timing and hand-eye coordination than a person who hadn't played them. Thank goodness for Halo he thought to himself as he lined up another shot.

Wonderful. The wreaker had a weapon and Mila didn't. That only made the fact that the main group had no cover even worse.

She needed something to fight back with, but the only weapon still on the rooftop that wasn't being used was the one which had recently killed its owner. Mila waited for the monster to turn, then timed her sprint to just the right time when she could dive for the gun. The whole process reminded her of a dungeon puzzle in a game like Legend of Zelda, only Link didn't shoot a fully automatic.

Trying not to stare at the mess of what had once been a soldier, she picked up his rifle and aimed to the best of her ability. The wreaker turned his attention back to her just as she pulled the trigger.

"DIE YOU MOTHERFU---"

Click.

The weapon was empty, its last round having gone into the head of the man beside her.

"---uck." She gulped.

Daniel was looking at the back of the creature with the weapons when he saw Mila's troubles. He was in the same situation though. He was out of bullets. Frantically he searched the roof for anything else that could damage the thing. Instead he looked down to the gun in his hand. Dropping it to the bottom of his grip he ran as fast as he could and swung the rifle at the peak of it's momentum into the back of the things head. He didn't know how much damage it would do, but he couldn't just sit there.

Day Two
Washington D.C.
1:05 a.m. EST

The Wreaker turns towards Mila, it's weapons aiming just as Daniel attacks it. It stumbles and hits the ground, it's head bleeding. Matt seizes the opportunity and opens fire at the creature's exposed head, and several other Rangers have the same idea. The thing's head explodes, and it stops moving. Just then, the stairwell door opens again, and everyone points their weapons just as a man in a suit followed by none other than the President of the United States jump up. The man in the suit, no doubt a Secret Service agent, is talking into his radio. "Dammit, Stearns, get the fucking chopper on the roof! This building is compromised! Copy that, yeah, move the aircraft LZ to Bravo! Yeah! Donovan out."

Matthew salutes the President along with the rest of the Rangers, but the President waves them off. "Listen boys, this building is being overwhelmed. Everyone on the bottom floors are being attacked. A few choppers are inbound to pick us up and any other survivors. We're getting the hell out of D.C."

Right on time, two Blackhawks come into view, one immediately broadcasting a message loudly. "Attention all survivors! We will be picking you up. Come to the roof or the third floor for extraction. You have five minutes."

Another aircraft, a V-22 Osprey, comes at a hover above the roof, and a rope is thrown down. Matthew helps the civilians on, using his carabiners to secure their belts or a rope to the extraction rope. Meanwhile, the other Rangers continue to fire on the Wreakers on the ground, though the V-22 minigun begins to fire alongside the Blackhawks. One is pulling up next to the Third Floor, picking up civilians and soldiers leaping to safety. The other Blackhawk pulls alongside the roof just as a surge of civilians and soldiers pile up. The President waves Matthew, his men, and Mila, Sam, Michael, and Daniel among other civilians to line up to the rope.

California
12:15 p.m. PST

The Wreakers begin to surge over the barricades, simply overwhelming the Guardsmen. It really goes downhill as two Leapers jump over the barricades and defenses, attacking from behind. Before long, the soldiers are either running like the hounds of hell are chasing them, or are quickly killed. Over at the tarmac, there is a crazed scramble for the aircraft, though someone is trying to bring control back by organizing a team to lay down covering fire so that people can board the remaining scrambled aircraft.

Meanwhile, Wreakers are surging from all over, and only the soldiers' weapons delay them, though time is running out.

Tossing the useless hunk of metal to the ground, Mila blinked a few times at the sight of the president, but didn't say anything. Soon after she pulled out her earplugs, a couple of Blackhawks showed up, along with a tiltrotor aircraft she wasn't familiar with. She was aware of being ushered toward the rope, and moved quickly to pick up York while there was a moment free of wreakers. As she walked, she realized that the pain in her leg had completely disappeared, which she found a bit odd. In fact, the whole lower half of her leg was almost completely numb.

Still, she wasn't about to complain. There were more important things to worry about. Like how to get a dog up a rope.

"York! Here boy! Time to go!" she called, following up with a whistle and a clap of her hands. The Husky didn't seem to register her voice at all, instead continuing to pant with his head facing toward Logan. "York! C'mon!"

Concerned, she moved closer, and only then did York turn to her and wag his tail. "You okay buddy?" Why hadn't he responded?

This time, the dog followed her over to the rope when she clapped her hands at him, and she waited for Daniel to help his son board the plane. After Daniel himself was securely aboard, she lifted the rather heavy animal up to her shoulder height, which was about as high as she could manage, before someone else helped take him from above. She twisted her hands and legs around the rope and was then pulled up as well.

California
12:15 p.m. PST

The soldier from before joins AJ, along with a few others as a bunch of other soldiers flee. The Wreakers are stopped by their fire but then begin to advance more, and AJ's soldier friend yells to make a break for it. A Blackhawk has taken off but comes down right next to them, the minigun gunner blowing away the nearest Wreakers as a Ranger helps them aboard. "That was close," AJ's friend, who's name tape reads Montoya, says, gasping for breath, and knuckle bumps AJ's knuckle.

Day Two
Washington D.C.
1:10 a.m. EST

Matthew hangs his M4 from his combat webbing, then attaches his own carabiner to the rope, testing it's weight before tugging twice, signaling. The rope begins to be pulled up, and Matt detaches his carabiner and jumps inside, seeing Sergeant Knowles, the last man, begin to rappel up just as two Wreakers jump onto the roof.

He straps in, sitting in between Mila and Kevin. Kevin is busy talking to his brother, and Matthew takes a few deep breaths, still feeling sick. He wipes his brow and smiles at Mila as the cargo door closes and the V-22 begins to zoom away. "We made it." Everyone talks in low tones as the small fleet of aircraft flies away from burning D.C. They see a row of burning military vehicles and piles of bodies where Washington's vanguard had made it's last stand. Wreakers swarm over, a few gorging on the fresh meat while a few choppers flee.

"Attention everyone! We will be embarking on a long flight, stopping in Texas, and Nevada. Hang in tight. This should be an uneventful flight. Thank you for your cooperation," someone from the cockpit radios.

Mike was one of the last of the group to get on, making sure Sam and Daniel's kid got on just fine before following himself.

Once safely on the ship he removed the earbuds still lodged in his ears. The burst of sound from the helicopter was deafening at first but slowly his ears adjusted. Looking up at the sound of the pilot he had to shout, "Texas?! Call me crazy but I don't think the Alamo is going to save us in this." He shook his head in despair and for the first time realized his ears felt wt. Touching the bottom of his ear lobe he felt something sticky creeping out of his ear canal. Bringing his fingers to his eyes he frowned to see it was blood though it was good to at least know he hadn't imagined his ears were bleeding. Suddenly a thought struck him. He looked at York, the dog, and tilted his head wondering.

Sliding over a few seats to be across from Mila, he leaned closer and snapped his fingers on each side of the dog's ears to see the response. If the sound had been enough to make Mike's ears bleed just imagine what it would be like for a dog.

Mila's heart was still racing abnormally fast, but she put it down to the adrenaline of the fight having not worn off yet. Her leg, on the other hand, felt like it had fallen asleep, except the "pins and needles" feeling that normally accompanied that sort of thing was replaced with a spreading sensation such as ice flowing through her veins. For now, the feeling stopped at her knee, and she massaged it with one hand trying to get her leg to wake back up.

Strange symptoms, especially during a time of stress, were old hat to Mila. Dealing with anxiety attacks since she was 7, she'd learned that most of the time, 99 percent of her symptoms were actually just in her head. Still, as she began to shiver, she wondered if the aircraft's air conditioning was really that powerful or if maybe she'd finally inherited her mother's thyroid condition after all.

Matt looked pleased with himself, and she couldn't blame him. He'd been through a lot, and probably much more than she'd known beforehand, judging by his rank. "Thanks for saving me back there. I'm glad you got that medicine, whatever it was, 'cause I would have felt awful if you'd died because I was stupid enough to dangle my feet over the ledge," she said, giving a weak smile in return. She was finding it difficult to control her shivering now, but she gripped her knees tightly and forced herself to make it less noticeable. "Is it freezing in here or is it just me?" she asked, glancing at Sam, Daniel, and then spying Mike on one end trying to get the dog's attention.

York made no indication that he heard the snapping sound whatsoever, and didn't even bother looking at Mike. He was staring in Mila's direction and sniffing the air. He made a move towards her and then froze, whimpering. The canine backed away from her suddenly, looking afraid as he hid behind another passenger's legs.

"York? What's wrong?" Mila wondered aloud, then looked at Mike and noticed the trail of red. "Oh dude, your ears..."

Day Two
Virginia
1:15 a.m. EST

The engines of the V-22 slow to cruise speed after going maximum to escape D.C. Matt stares a bit at Mila. "It must be just you. We aren't high enough for it to get too cold." He turns to Michael. "Hey man, take this," he says, handing him a field dressing to wipe the blood off. "Is your hearing okay? Any ringing?" He stares at York as well, wondering what was making the dog so jumpy. He is aware of several Rangers watching York and the two civvies, as well as him. They were obviously suspicious.

Droplets of sweat had formed on Mila's forehead, but she still felt like she was in an icebox. And it was only getting colder.

The sweat trickled out of her hair and down her cheeks slowly, just a drop or two at a time. Her head was also beginning to pound furiously; each rapid heartbeat sent hammers into her skull. On top of that, the lights in the cabin were making her nauseous, so she shielded her eyes with one hand draped over her face. Unexpectedly, York started barking at her, making frightened whines in between and cowering as far back into the wall as he could.

"Shut up York!" Mila shouted, sounding inexplicably more angry than she should have been. The dog continued to bark, causing Mila to dig her fingers into her temples a bit as she tried to block out the noise. Her eyes were squinted shut and she had two fingers pinched at the bridge of her nose. She'd only had a headache this bad once, and she had felt like she was going to die then, too.

AJ pressed the eject button on the M4 carbine and the nearly spent magazine fell to the deck of the Blackhawk with a thud. As he pocketed the item he could just hear the snarls of Wreakers as the mini gun operator opened up on them with the heavy mounted weapon. The man's art in handing out death to the creatures was almost masterful and AJ watched with no small amount of relief as he turned the horde of attackers into chunks of bloody pulp. After a bit though the view was a bit discomforting when it dawned on the student that each and every one of the creatures was formerly a human being with their own family and life.

Turning away and wiping his mouth a bit he fiddled with a fresh magazine as he looked up to his new associate. "Did the planes make it out?" AJ asked before he finally slid the magazine home into the assault carbine.

Sam got up slowly. The battle had been long, arduous and above all bloody. But what may happen next would be even worse.

He sat down in front of Mila cross legged, his pistol in his lap. His body language seemed non threatening but he was also curiously calm. "Hey Mila," Sam said simply. "You need to lie down I think."

He'd seen the scratch. He could see the wound bandaged on her leg. Worse of all he could see the dressing was bloody.

"I can get you some water," Sam said. The gun was by his side now, apparently he had moved it swiftly. Switch side down Mila would not be able to see that it was now flicked so it was live.

If I kill her. If I have to. I kill myself afterwards.

"We can do whatever Mila. Anything to make you feel more comfortable on this stupidly long flight."