Satan's Gate

by Walt Browning

  Kyle was shocked. Did another one of the infected just take him down?

  He heard three shotgun blasts, then silence.

  Whatever had tackled him was lying on the grass nearby. The young man scrambled to his feet. He spun about, searching for his attacker.

  “Kyle!” he heard from the ground.

  It was his mother! She’d tackled him, saving him from the creature that was going to kill him.

  Menily stepped forward and helped Hope up, just as Mr. Reedy, Gavin, and Gary Gringleman joined them.

  Chris Reedy looked down at the twins. Trey Darden was just getting up, a dead infected human at his feet. His brother had blown out the creature’s spine, but its tongue continued to involuntary flick and teeth continued to snap while the rest of its body died.

  “You boys all right?” Chris asked.

  “Yeah. I think so,” Brett said. “What about you, Trey?”

  “Fine,” he said in a flat voice.

  The sound of more infected howled from the tree line. They all turned to look. They were almost halfway to the safety of the camp’s buildings when dozens of creatures exploded out of the brush.

  “RUN!” Chris yelled. “Get your asses moving!”

  The group began to sprint.

  “HURRY!” Hope yelled as she flung her son back toward the camp.

  The group was moving fast. Hope glanced over her shoulder and saw an uncountable number of amber points of light chasing them.

  They were still about a hundred yards from safety, but they were far enough ahead that they should be able to make it. Then she saw the Darden twins falling back. One of them was injured, and the other wouldn’t leave him.

  “Chris!” she yelled.

  He didn’t respond. They were running for their lives and hearing was one of the first things to be ignored by a brain in fight or flight.

  Hope saw Kyle keeping pace with the rest of them. He would make it to safety.

  She couldn’t leave the Darden boys out there; the mother inside of her refused to abandon them. She did the only thing her instinct would let her do. She stopped and went back to help the injured boy.

  The twins were moving, but a brisk walk was the best they could manage. The snapping jaws and cracking joints of the infected were bearing down on them.

  “Who’s hurt?” she screamed.

  “I am,” Trey said. “It’s my foot.”

  Hope slung his arm over her shoulder while his brother Brett did likewise on the other side. They began to move. It was considerably faster than before, but Hope could tell the creatures were getting close. She risked a look back and saw an infected human and one of the armored creatures sprinting ahead of the rest of the group. She looked ahead—the lights of the camp buildings were just beyond the next copse of trees. She urged the boys to go faster.

  The sounds of heavy feet slamming into the earth were right behind them. The hair on the back of her head stood stiffly, and she could feel the rancid odor of death breathing down her neck.

  She glanced back again and almost froze. It was a one-eyed armored creature and an infected human. They were going to be caught.

  Hope let go of Trey and turned to face her death. The infected human slammed into her, knocking her to the ground. Its animal companion sprinted forward, the twins in its sights. They were all going to die.

  Bright beams of light pierced the darkness. They flashed over the scene, illuminating the two creatures that were going to be her demise.

  Hope caught her breath. She couldn’t believe what stood over her. It was the infected security guard she’d known back at the resort. He had nearly killed them once, and now he’d returned to finish the job.

  “Hope!” she heard from the distance.

  It was John. He’d come to save her, but he was too late.

  It scooped her up and turned into the darkness, carrying her on its shoulders. They sprinted away at an incredible pace.

  “No! Charlie, don’t!” she screamed as rifle shots echoed from behind the twin beams of light. In a flash, they were moving away and out the glare.

  Moments later, the animal companion joined them.

  They bounded through some trees, where her head caught a low-hanging branch. As she faded into darkness from the blow, she felt relieved that she’d saved her son and the Darden twins. Her last thoughts were of John. She hoped he’d be proud of her. Then, the world went black.

  — 35 —

  Porky Shader

  U.S.S. Theodore Roosevelt

  “If something can go wrong, it will.”

  ―EDWARD MURPHY, JR. (American Aerospace Engineer)

  “Murphy’s Law”

  The only surprise Shader felt when the emergency claxons went off was how quickly it had happened. He glanced at his watch. It was only three in the morning. He’d gotten exactly ninety minutes of sleep.

  “Well, I’ve had worse nights,” he grunted.

  Porky bolted off the floor and stood over his people. A quick count of the tired and confused bodies let him know all were present and accounted for.

  With a large influx of refugees onto the T.R., people were scattered throughout the massive ship. Porky had chosen a room just one level below the flight deck, within yards of the ladder topside. He knew this time would come, and he just prayed the few hours of prep time would be enough to save them.

  A few hours before, he and Potoski tracked down Lieutenant Donaldson. Shader wanted them to prepare for the worst. Ultimately, the meeting went well, but it hadn’t started that way.

  Donaldson had to be clued in on how virulent the virus was. They met another pilot, a SuperCobra air jockey named Everly, and grabbed some coffee in one of the officers’ wardrooms. From their greeting, Shader knew that Donaldson and Everly had more than just a professional relationship.

  The sight of a Marine sergeant and a Navy SEAL in the wardroom didn’t faze the other officers in the least. In fact, several lieutenants insisted they tell their story. It took almost an hour to narrate their participation in the battle of the Forum. From the REMF’s reaction to the story, Shader and Potoski were walking gods.

  When the four of them finally got some privacy, Shader and Potoski explained their concerns to the two pilots.

  “The virus will eventually infect the ship,” Shader said. “It’s just a matter of time. There are too many variables to control.”

  Both Donaldson and Everly remained skeptical.

  Shader gave the pilots a condensed version of Lazzaro’s experience. “He watched the Boxer die, all from one infected Marine. What do you think is going to happen with thousands of people flooding the ship? How many of them had some incidental exposure to the infection? How much virus is on the ship now? No one knows.”

  Donaldson glanced at Everly then met Shader’s eyes. “I hate to say it, but you might be right. I had a chance to talk with some of the other pilots. They were doing hot extractions at the base, sometimes landing in the middle of a pile of dead Variants. The rotors had to have been putting infected blood into the air. How many of them are carrying the virus now?”

  There was a moment of silence as each of the group considered the implications of the lieutenant’s report.

  “One thing I can tell you,” Potoski said. “Is that there ain’t anything wrong with preparing.”

  “We can’t just do what we want,” Everly replied. “This is the Navy. We do what we are told. All this belongs to Uncle Sam.”

  Shader looked at both pilots. “Let me ask you something… what are your orders? What’s the game plan?”

  The pilots looked at each other, then shrugged.

  “Your birds aren’t tasked for anything right now, are they?”

  “No. But that can and will change,” Everly replied.

  “I doubt that. Even if we miraculously avoid an infection, our next port of call won’t be for a while. Have you heard of anything on the continent that isn’t overrun by Variants?”

  Everly shook his head. “No. Ou
r last briefing was that the virus was everywhere.”

  “Exactly. Now, where has it not spread?”

  The pilot had no answer.

  “That’s my point. We’re going to start searching. Probably an island somewhere far away. It will be weeks before your birds will be needed.”

  “I’ll give you that,” Everly said. “So, what do you want?”

  Shader pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it to the two pilots. Everly looked at it and groaned.

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Nope. We could use all of that.”

  “We’ll be court marshalled. If we steal all this, they’ll hang us from the yardarm.”

  “You’re not stealing. Just, reallocating,” Shader replied.

  Donaldson shook her head. “You’re crazy. I wouldn’t even know where to look for this stuff.”

  “I’ve got that covered,” Potoski replied. “If you give this your blessing, I’ll make all the arrangements.”

  Donaldson looked at Everly and nodded.

  “What do I know if someone uses my bird for a storage unit?” she said.

  “Okay. I’m in too. If Erin’s good with this, so am I.”

  “Stay close, especially for the next twenty-four hours. I have a feeling, that if the virus is going to happen, it will be in the next day.”

  As it turned out, it was much sooner.

  “That was fast,” Potoski said as he wiped the sleep from his eyes. The claxon’s shrill scream was something he’d never get used to.

  “I hope your buddy got what we asked for,” Shader added as he watched the group they’d rescued crawl up from their blankets on the deck.

  “What’s the plan?” Garrett asked.

  “We give it five minutes, then make our way to the Osprey.”

  “And if the pilot isn’t there?” Garrett asked.

  “Just worry about what you can control,” Shader said. “Make sure your people are squared away.”

  “We’re squared away and ready to rock!” Gonzalez replied.

  Lazzaro was slow to get up with his unattended wound beginning to throb. He produced his last syringe of lidocaine and pushed it into his leg, right through the thick fabric of his BDU.

  “Damn. That’s just wrong!” Gonzalez said, cringing as Lazzaro shoved the needle into his thigh.

  “I just might take up dentistry after we get out of here,” Lazzaro replied with a grim smile. “I think I’m getting good at this.”

  He pulled the needle out and held it up to the flashing, red alarm light. “Half left.” Then he recapped the syringe, shoved it back into his pants pocket, and buttoned it up.

  Shader did another headcount and nodded. He checked his watch one more time.

  “All right. Everyone line up. Stay with the person in front of you. Don’t space out. Keep moving. Call out if you see anything. My squad will handle it.”

  Lazzaro wiggled his injured leg and gave a thumbs up. Shader nodded.

  “Gonzalez. You’re on point. You know where to go.”

  “Aye, Chief.”

  “Keele, you have the rear. Keep ’em moving.”

  “Aye aye.”

  “Lazzaro, you’re in the middle. Keep up and head on a swivel.”

  “Got your back.”

  “The rest of you, once we start, keep moving.”

  Shader moved to the front, just as there was a pounding on the door. He spun his finger in the air, rallying the three Marines to him. They encircled the door and brought their rifles up, covering the entrance.

  Shader pulled the door open and four rifles stared out into the passageway.

  A small girl screamed.

  It was the young girl from the Forum. She clutched a teddy bear as Morales held her in his arms. She buried her face in the big man’s neck at the sight of the armed men.

  Morales looked at Shader. “I heard the siren. We didn’t know where else to go.”

  “We?” Shader asked.

  Morales moved back and Shader stepped into the passageway. There were nearly a dozen survivors huddled against the bulkhead. Naval personnel were running by, some with a purpose while others in panic. It had already turned into a clusterfuck.

  Shader did the math. He tried to calculate if the Osprey could handle all the additional weight of a dozen more people. After some quick math he decided that it would probably still work, depending on how much of the supply list Potoski’s scrounger had acquired.

  There was no doubt the people were more important than some cases of MREs. If push came to shove, the survivors would take precedence over supplies, but he hoped they could do both. Shader really would hate having to dump any of the ill-gotten treasures since he’d sacrificed his last bottle of Tennessee whiskey to acquire them.

  Shader waved the survivors into the room. They arranged the unarmed civilians into an organized line, scattering the armed sailors and Marines amongst them. He gave them all instructions once again, stressing that they keep moving. When they were ready, Shader flung the door open, and Gonzalez moved forward.

  The chain of refugees he was leading had grown to over double in size. All told, there were twenty-one souls he was responsible for. The four they’d rescued from the harbor along with the thirteen in Morales’s group. Add in his fireteam and Potoski, and he was pushing the limits of the Osprey’s weight capacity.

  Gonzalez moved steadily. He had full battle rattle on and was walking with rifle up at low ready. Most of the panicked sailors in the passageway rushed by before they recognized the armed Marine. Some froze and spun away, assuming danger lay behind the advancing group.

  Gonzalez reached the ladder and began to move up. He was halfway up the stairs when screams came from down the passageway. Shader and Garrett stepped forward.

  “Move!” Shader commanded to Lazzaro. “Lay topside and find Donaldson.”

  “Everyone, move it!” Lazzaro yelled.

  The group began to run.

  “I don’t need to tell you what to do,” Shader said to Garrett.

  Garrett performed a chamber check. “I can handle myself.”

  Shader nodded and did likewise. He’d seen the kid step out of the Osprey, put himself in harm’s way, then take down a Variant back on the deck of the Boxer. He’d saved Lazzaro’s life. That was all the proof Shader needed to stand beside the man instead of in front of him.

  Most of the group had gotten to the ladder, when the rush of sailors coming at them suddenly disappeared. With the passageway beyond finally clear, Shader spotted the cause of the commotion. The noise from the disturbance down the passageway was drowned out by the blare from the alarm, so the first indication of the Variant horde was from flashes of several guns in the distance as they were discharged.

  Shader felt Keele slap him on the shoulder as he passed by. Their people were clear, and it was time to move.

  “Up top with you!” Shader barked.

  But Jacobs didn’t move. Shader was about to grab him when the young man pressed down on his trigger and began to fire.

  Shader looked back down the passageway, but it was several seconds more before he saw Garrett’s target.

  “SHIT!” Shader yelled.

  It was a horde of infected. They crawled over and above each other. Like a tube that was being flooded, they filled the passageway. The younger sailor had seen them before he had. He silently cursed his aging eyes.

  “GO!” Shader commanded. Then he began to open fire, as well.

  Garrett emptied his magazine and sprinted up the ladder. Shader did the same, buying them a few seconds.

  Shader felt, as much as heard, the creatures on his heels. It was eerily reminiscent of his escape from the underground garage.

  He broke out on the landing above and shoved the hatch closed. The slamming of bodies into the metal door sounded like sacks of wet cement landing on the pavement. He dogged the lever, securing the creatures on the other side.

  Shader ran up the next ladder to the flight deck. He�
��d worried they would have trouble finding Donaldson and the Osprey, but his concerns were unfounded.

  The nearly two dozen people wound through piles of supplies, right to an idling V-22. Its blades were pointing up and spinning slowly. Donaldson had already arrived and prepared the craft. She was ready to lift off.

  Shader followed Keele and Jacobs, looking over his shoulders. Nothing approached.

  They all entered the back of the Osprey, jogging up the ramp and settling into one of the bulkhead seats. Gonzalez and Keele were moving up and down the line, one on each side, making sure the civilians were properly strapped in. Potoski stood at the back and rotated the aircraft’s mounted SAW into position.

  The craft’s engines began to spin up and within a few seconds, they lifted off the flight deck. The bird felt sluggish as it accelerated into the sky, but they managed to get airborne, just as a swarm of Variants exploded onto the deck.

  Shader gripped Potoski’s shoulder and shook his head.

  “Don’t waste the ammo,” Shader yelled, as the big Pole was lining up his machine gun to fire on the infected sailors below. “We’ll need it later.”

  Potoski nodded. The ship was being overrun, and killing a few hundred wouldn’t solve anything.

  Shader wormed his way to the front of the craft and knocked loudly on the cockpit door. Someone unlocked the hatch and he looked in on the two pilots.

  Donaldson flew the craft while Everly sat in the co-pilot’s seat. She was directing him to monitor systems and familiarizing him with the controls. This was not his SuperCobra, and flying the bird was more like a fixed-wing plane and not a rotor-craft.

  “Thanks!” Shader yelled.

  Donaldson just shook her head and handed him a helmet. Shader put the green ballistic helmet on and adjusted the boom mic.

  “Can you hear me?” Donaldson asked.

  “Affirmative,” Shader replied.

  “I want to stay here for a few mikes and see if we can help.”

  Shader knew that was a fool’s errand, but he understood the thought. He leaned in between the two pilots and gave a thumbs up.