Bravo Company mounts up...

The sun disappeared as cumulonimbus clouds hid it from the city. Colin, along with dozens and dozens of other soldiers from Bravo Company's Second Platoon stood in one of many improvised Humvee parking lots. The first lieutenant cracked his knuckles and checked himself one more time from head to toe. All units departing for Operation Corkscrew were now in full battle rattle. Multicam-patterned enhanced combat helmets, kevlar vests, pants, and tan boots covered each soldier. **** rifles and light machine guns were clasped in the gloved hands of squad members. The 8th Division was now an attack dog waiting to be unleashed. There were 180 men attached to a company; if one compared a dessert pie to a company, then pie slices would be the equivalent of platoons. In this case there were 5 platoons composed of 36 men each.

Colin looked down the holographic sight of his M4A1. He could see a red dot positioned properly in the middle of a circle within the square box. After checking the rest of his **** rifle he was convinced that everything was working as intended.

"Lieutenant Klein!" Captain Knight shouted from about 4 Humvees down.

Colin's head perked up. As he jogged over, his mind was predominated with the thought of how difficult the op was going to be.

"Yes Captain?"

"Last minute modification. Now I know you're probably thinking that our company getting sent to District 3 sucks."

"No sir," Colin said sarcastically.

"Alright well be glad we aren't in Alpha. I don't know about you, but infected college girls trying to get into my pants sounds pretty bad, especially when I can't shoot back."

Colin shuddered. It was true that the university wasn't in their area of operations, but it was awfully close. Right at the border of Bravo's. He wondered how Alpha Company was going to pacify that part of District 4. It was supposedly infested with nymphomania cultists prowling for sex.

"Instead we get to go deal with armed anarchists AND potentially the infected out there! Cherries and roses, oh my!" the captain joked. Colin was already used to his lame sense of humor. "So here's the thing Lieutenant, I'm going have your guys securing Melon Hospital alone. I've spoken to the other LTs and it turns out we need to spread ourselves out more to lock down District 3."

The lieutenant swallowed. "Yes sir... I'll go inform Second Platoon. Anything else?"

"Yeah, you're a real peach. Thanks Lieutenant," the captain winked. "Okay I'm sorry. I need to meet my humor quota somehow you know?"

Colin turned without answering and returned to his vehicle. He ran his hand along its hood and admired the beauty of a tan colored M1151 Humvee that was in factory new condition. This variant had beefier armor and a shielded .50 caliber heavy machine gun mounted on top. For a second the lieutenant thought about the National Guard's Humvees having no mounted weapon. He shook his head.

With that done, he got into the front passenger's seat. Private Alan Mead and Private First Class Joseph Rice were seated in the back, weapons on their lap. Specialist Hector Sanchez dropped down from the gunner's cupola to take his seat. The driver, Corporal Michael Atkins had a map spread out on the steering wheel.

"Change in plans. Second Platoon's going to secure Melon Hospital. Alone," Colin said bluntly.

Gasps filled up the vehicle's interior. Sanchez, the gunner was the first to speak. "What, just 30-something of us holding the inside and outside of a huge freaking hospital? What happened to Second and Third Platoon working together?"

"Captain says they're needed elsewhere Sanchez seeing how the city's not a bunch of eggs lying neatly in a basket right now," the lieutenant replied.

Corporal Atkins patted the map with the back of his hand. "Huh. I just hope we don't run into many of those XXX-sluts. Why the hell aren't we allowed to shoot them? How else are we supposed to neutralize the bitches if they sprint for our dicks?"

"Infected, Atkins. Can we please use that term!?" Private Mead adjusted his glasses. "Lieutenant, just how many infected should we expect to encounter inside the hospital?"

"Dozens? Scores? Hundreds? We've got gas masks at the ready, don't worry. Whatever the number, we need to focus on just getting there first Private. Let's hope that the staff still have things under control. Corporal, the Brass still classifies the infected as sick civilians so unless orders change we aren't shooting any of them," Colin said. He turned his head to look at PFC Rice. The young man simply stared back and blinked. Rice adjusted his helmet and nodded.

Colin turned back to face the windshield and smiled. PFC Rice was the quiet one in the fireteam who did what he was told to do, never asking many questions. Out of all the men in the vehicle, he was the one who never deserved a smack on the head.

"Yo I wonder what XXX milk tastes like!" Sanchez thought aloud.

Colin adjusted the vehicle radio's dials so that he could address the sergeants of Second Platoon; their call sign was Basilisk. "Be advised, all Basilisk units have now been assigned to Melon Hospital. We are to maintain and hold the objective. Check in for confirmation."

The sergeants all responded in the affirmative.

"Okay we are uh, waiting for the green light. Stand by."

Captain Knight's voice later sounded off on the radio. Suddenly engines rumbled to life and other Humvees started moving. The radio chatter started to pick up. The atmosphere became professional.

Colin took one deep breath and then raised his voice. "There's the signal, we're oscar mike. Let's roll out!"