The airplane was flying annoyingly erratically, as it turned different ways, circling the drop zone. It was loud inside, but not enough to allow conversation between the men. Infantrymen leaned from side to side, trying to control their own body weight and the weight of a T-11 parachute, with a reserve chute, a rigged up rucksack, a TAPS system, a weapon, and a helmet. No one was safe from being crushed by the man next to him, except for the jumpmasters who stood at the back of the plane.
The C130 was cramped, annoyingly, but comfy enough for Otis to take a nap. He was dehydrated from having to rig up at zero dark thirty and load all of his belongings in a giant conex to be transported to Japan.
It was still the opportunity of a life time. His first visit to Japan. All he wanted to do was have sex with Japanese girls, but that wasn't exactly on the itinerary for this little trip. There was a boat load of things they would be doing, but the commander had at least hooked them up with a four day weekend after they got on the ground and got all of their things situated in the barracks on JGSDF Tokyo Garrison.
The redemption would come soon as the doors opened at the back of the plane, letting them feel the wind at 1000 feet from the ground in a C130. If they could barely hear before, now was not any better. The command "OUTBOARD PERSONNEL STAND UP" was heard and they stood. This first pass would be Otis's jump.
The jumpmaster yelled out the command "HOOK. UP." Making a hook motion as he shouted. Everyone repeated the command and took their static line and attached it to the cable hanging overhead of them that stretched across front and back. Everyone swayed with the plane as they took a pass over the dropzone where they would all be exiting.
The jumpmaster called another command, "CHECK EQUIPMENT." Everyone repeated and started loudly sounding off with all the equipment they needed to check. "HELMET. CHINSTRAP. NAPE PAD. LEFT AND RIGHT LEG STRAP. HOOK PILE TAPE LOWERING LINE LEFT SIDE." Everyone went through the motions of the check. They all traced the static lines of the man in front of them, making sure everything was correct and then slapping the helmet of the man in front of them, giving a loud "OKAY."
They continued to repeat and follow commands, until the last command was given, which was "SOUND OFF FOR EQUIPMENT CHECK." Everyone repeated it, and the last man who would be jumping out slapped the ass of the man in front of him and yelled "OKAY." The process was repeated till it arrived at the front and the first jumper held out a knife hand and yelled, "ALL OKAY JUMPMASTER." The jumpmaster slapped his hand down and waited. Another jumpmaster was making his way to the front, going from man to man, checking each static line and telling each man "I AM YOUR SAFETY. HAND OFF YOUR STATIC LINE TO ME." The words were reassuring and met with a nod from the less experienced jumpers.
"ONE MINUTE." The jumpmaster yelled. Everyone repeated it, holding up their free index fingers as the other hand held the static line. "THIRTY SECONDS." It was a repeated and sent back, this time with each man holding their index finger and their thumb out to denote size. Otis followed the command, but with a little straying, holding out his hand and shouting "LITTLE PENIS." It was not caught by authority, and only met with a smirk from his fellow jumpers.
The first jumper stood ready, facing out the doorway, and was slapped on the rear by the jumpmaster. This action was accompanied by the words "GREEN LIGHT. GO" from the jumpmaster, as he began collecting static lines from the rest of the jumpers, each taking that short walk off the edge and into the sky. Otis approached the door, holding his static line in one hand with his other resting on his reserve parachute.
He handed off the line to the jumpmaster, pivoted, and waddled as best he could out the door. The rucksack hanging out in front of him from his midsection made him look ridiculous, as he could only waddle. He made his best effort to kick himself off the edge of the plane ramp and went plummeting downwards, being caught quickly by his parachute. He looked up, a little bit of relief taking over as he found his parachute to be fully opened up. He never got over how good it felt to see the parachute in all its glory over his head.
The descent to the ground would be only a few seconds, as Otis released his rucksack and weapon letting them dangle from the lowering line. Otis pulled a double slip and slowed his descent. The rucksack acted like an anchor as Otis came close to the ground. He finally impacted with the ground, keeping his feet and knees together as he landed on his side.
The chute pulled him a little, before he could yank up the canopy release assemblies for the chute to completely collapse. All that was left was to get out of the harness and start packing everything up, and Otis did so diligently. Before strapping all of his things on, he opened up his rucksack, pulled out a 2 quart canteen and started chugging. "FUCK. We ain't gonna jump NO MOOOOORE." He declared as he put his rucksack on, and held his weapon in hand. Lucky for them, they didn't have to gather up the chutes from the dropzone, so he had less to carry.
It was especially lucky for him, as he was a SAW gunner, and already had enough to carry. "Man, fuck this weapon." He grumbled as he rucked off to the hangar close by to where he was dropped. As soon as he reached there, he would be transported off with a bus load of jumpers from his battalion.
Otis found himself stepping into a bus, the lucky last man on. The doors closed as he dropped his rucksack on the seat in front of him. Suddenly, he raised his fist in the air and declared "FOUR DAY WEEKEND, BITCHES!" He was met with cheers and jeers, as everyone was equally excited for them to be finished with the day. Otis pulled out his phone, something he should not have had on him but no one really listened to that rule, and started blaring the song Mama Said Knock You Out performed by Five Finger Death Punch. He stood up and proceeded to head bang to it, getting mixed reactions from the rest of the bus crowd. Otis shouted different curse words as he jammed out.
The only reason he was getting away with this flagrant violation of military bearing was because of the lack of NCOs on the bus. The bus was filled with good cheer, as everyone seemed to be motivated to be in Japan and expecting a four day weekend. They just had one final stretch of trouble before they could be released. The only thing they wouldn't have to worry about was the safety brief, as the battalion commander had given it to them before the jump just to save time.
Five hours later, a battalion of American Paratroopers found themselves let loose on the bustling city of Tokyo. Otis in particular had taken his leave, carrying a civilian bag with an assortment of items and wearing civilian clothes. He headed off base in a cheap Japanese taxi, headed to a hotel off post, so he could better live it up on this weekend. He threw himself in, and shouted out the hotel to the driver.
Otis sat in the backseat of a taxi, finally taking the chance to look through his back pack. There was something that he had that wasn't particularly allowed in Japan. It was also something he had acquired through other than lawful methods. The army had a strange way of having things going missing from records. Every now and then something very big would go missing. This special something just so happened to be a Mossberg 590 with a short barrel and a pistol grip. It was a weapon for door breaching, not really for shooting people.
Otis had been working in the arms room, back in Alaska, in preparation for the trip to Japan. They had issued out all of the weapons, when Otis came across one of the shotguns. It was the last one in its rack and it hadn't been touched. He took a look at the serial number and started looking through all of the records on the computer in the arms room. He couldn't find anything on it in there, so he tried the MAL and found it not anywhere issued out to anyone. He looked through every hand receipt they had that was in the arms room and couldn't find anything on this shotgun. There was nothing to speak of. There were no records anywhere.
Otis had won the lottery. He had found a ghost gun and he was the only person who knew it existed. Without hesitation, he made it look as though he was writing a hand receipt, then quickly took the weapon from the arms room and hid it in his rucksack. After the jump that would be happening in a few hours, after they hit ground in Japan, Otis would be able to take the shotgun and slip it into his civilian bag after all the bags were unloaded from the conex. It would be such a complicated process just to get this shotgun back home, but he couldn't so well as sneak back to the barracks with a shotgun in hand.
It would all be worth it for a free shotgun. After all, the army had taken a lot of his life away, so why not take something back as a souvenir? The fruits of his labors would not be felt until a few months from then, when they finally made it back to Alaska.
Otis zipped his backpack up, hiding away his treasure, and leaned back. He had a very satisfied look on his face. He felt powerful. He had a weapon that he wasn't allowed to have and he was breaking so many laws at the very moment. Even laws in Japan.
Otis was enjoying his moment of victory as he sprawled out in the back of the taxi cab. He smiled and closed his eyes, letting his head fall back. He started to doze off, as the taxi cab kept driving onward. The pleasantries were interrupted by the cab jerking to a stop, and hitting something. Otis fell forward, being caught by his seat belt. "WHAT THE FUCK, MAN!" He yelled out, as the cab stayed still.
Otis's reaction was changed when he saw a bloodied man clawing around on the hood, looking like a dying cockroach. The driver got out and started yelling at the man in Japanese while coming to his aid. It all seemed rather awful, but it was made worse when the man on the ground started attacking the cab driver. The cab driver was overcome and it looked as though the injured man was biting into Otis's former cab driver.
The driver screamed in agony as his blood seemed to spill everywhere. Otis jumped out of the cab, with his backpack in hand. He came around to the front of the car where the scene unfolded. He felt like vomiting from the sight. The man was feasting on the driver. He had never seen anything like it, except in the Walking Dead, but even that show hadn't been this gruesome. This was real.
Otis angrily jumped on the man's head and started curb stomping him into the ground. "What the fuck, I mean WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FUCK!" He yelled, continuing to destroy this wretched creature until it stopped moving. The cab driver seemed to have passed out and Otis checked for a pulse, only to find nothing. He stood and stepped away from the situation, not sure how to react. He had just killed a man who had murdered another man. It was definitely not starting out like a good four day weekend. "Ahhhh, fuck. Now I'm gonna have to call my team leader and tell him that I murdered a dude who was eating my cab driver. I'm gonna get so much shit for this." He pulled his phone out and opened it up, looking through his contacts for his team leader.
He was about to make the call when he heard the sound of groaning behind him. He turned to find a Japanese cop car on the side of the road with what looked like a raving lunatic in a police officer's uniform strapped into the driver's seat. "Holy mother of sin." He walked over to the character, seeing as his window was smashed open. There seemed to be different things littering the seats, one thing most interesting to him was the shotgun and shotgun shells in the front passenger seat, and the open door on the other side.
Otis took himself to the other side of the vehicle and started collecting all of the shotgun shells, being careful to avoid the hands of the lunatic. They appeared to be 12 gauge, so they would be useful for his Mossberg. He made off with all that he could, heading over to where he left his backpack. He pulled out his shotgun and started loading it up. He threw all of the remaining shells into his backpack and his pockets.
He concluded it would be best to head back to the Tokyo Garrison, and took the taxi cab. He drove over his late taxi driver, the car rolling over slowly like it was a speed bump, and bouncing when it got over it. The problem would be finding the base, as he hadn't been too concerned about memorizing his way back. He wasn't really expecting for his cab driver to be murdered and eaten on the first day of his four day weekend. "Of all the ways to lose a four day, this will make the history books." He concluded, heading off down the road. It was a one way, so he was forced to keep going. He turned on his cell phone and started using the google maps on it to find a route back.
Of course, down the road even further was a road block of vehicles with people wandering around looking like zombies. As if to greet Otis, they all looked to his vehicle and started slowly meandering towards him. "This is getting really fucking creepy." He could hear the groans as they came after him, like some weird occult trance. Otis put the vehicle in reverse and started backing away. More of them seemed to flow out of the traffic jam, all towards him. They all seemed to be gnawed on or were dripping blood of some sort with that dead shuffle.
"Oh, zombies. Now it all makes sense. Sort of." Otis backed his car up and turned until he could put it into drive and go in the other direction. There was no more to accomplish here. Driving somewhere else had its own problems, too. There was the fact that seemingly more of them were coming out of the woods. It seemed like they were coming from everywhere.
"Fuck." He said, hitting the gas and running into them. He started crushing zombies with the car, smashing them down on the ground and either killing them or mangling them enough so they couldn't move. He started switching between reverse and drive, crushing as many as he could. He wasn't particularly sure how much this vehicle could take. He was destroying it, and the body count was building up too much to move as freely as he could before. He just kept on rolling back and forth, crushing the wretched with every pass. It was starting to become tedious.
His luck finally wore out when he got stuck on a pile of the dead, and the tires only spun. He couldn't move anywhere, now. With that, he abandoned the vehicle, brandishing his shotgun in hand, and heading into the woods. He did not abandon the vehicle with out leaving something behind, though. He had lifted the steering wheel up as high as he could, and put a large rock on the horn. He cut out the seat belt, with a pocket knife, from the vehicle and tied the rock in place. It would continue a long honk until the battery would inevitably die.
The woods proved to be a little bit foreboding as he ran through them, trying to get away from the vehicle. The trees and branches slashed at him, cutting his skin and smacking him in the face. He was gathering a collection of leaves and twigs in his hair, and his pants had an assortment of brambles sticking to them. He could hear the groans closing in little after little, coming after him. He wasn't about to waste the ammo on them. For now, it was only run and get away.
He was working up quite the sweat from all of this, as it was a little humid in the woods. He just kept running, regardless. Not particularly terrified, mostly just pissed off and determined to get back to the JGSDF Tokyo Garrison. Too much was happening for one day. Far too much.
He ran swiftly, feeling every branch slash at him, until he finally came out into a trail without warning. It surprised him and he stopped, taking a moment to gather his bearings. He looked around to find that he had stepped out in front of a large group of people all casually walking down the forest pathway. They looked human and they seemed to have experienced what was going on, so he turned and spoke, "So, you guys know how to get to JGSDF Tokyo Garrison?" He said. There were a few white people and a few Japanese people, so at least one of them might speak english.
Otis smiled as he held his shotgun by both hands, proceeding to look them all up and down. "English, yes?" He had a rather whimsical expression on his face as he said it.
