Satan's Gate

by Walt Browning

  They sat down at the base of the tree. Brett leaned back on the petrified bark while Trey lay back against his chest. He’d lost almost all of his hair on the walk as his heart pumped the poison from his leg to the rest of his body. Black lines had started to form on his skull.

  “I can feel it, Brett.”

  Trey faced away from him as they watched the eagle soar in the distance.

  “I know,” Brett said. He pointed out at the hovering raptor as it danced in the updrafts.

  “See it?” Brett said. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Yeah,” Trey replied, pain in his muted reply. “It’s like he’s floating to heaven.”

  Brett brought his left hand around Trey’s stomach and hugged his brother from behind. He reached around his back and brought the pistol out, setting it on the ground next to him.

  “Brett. You have to find Mom,” Trey said, his voice beginning to change. “You need to find her.”

  “I will,” Brett said, tears welling up in his eyes. “I promise, I’ll save her.”

  Trey relaxed in his arms. He dropped his head back onto Brett’s chest and sighed.

  “I love you, brother,” Trey whispered.

  “And I love you too.”

  Shrek began to growl.

  Carver

  Carver walked into the admin building. It was quiet. He expected to find Brett holding his brother, waiting for the end. But instead, he found an empty room.

  “Kinney! Get over here and bring help,” Carver barked into his walkie-talkie.

  Carver ran out of the building toward Beckham Hall. He was met halfway by Kinney, Kyle, and both Chris and Laura Reedy. They all were armed.

  “The twins are gone,” he yelled. “I shouldn’t have left them alone.”

  “Where would they go?” Laura asked in a panic.

  “How would I know? Let’s start with the maintenance garage, then we’ve got to search the perimeter. Trey was hurt pretty bad—I don’t think he could have walked too far.”

  A single gunshot sounded from the east, followed by silence.

  The group sprinted down the dirt path and found the twins under an old, dead pine. Brett sat with his back against the trunk, his arm around Shrek. Trey lay at their feet with the top of his forehead gone, and black-speckled cranial fluid sprayed on the desert floor in front of the body.

  Carver walked up to the corpse and felt for a pulse. There was none.

  Trey’s face still held some normalcy, even though his eyebrows were gone, and his skin had turned a slightly pale grey. Everything else was still normal. He had a smile on his face and calmness in his open, blank eyes. Brett had killed his brother while he was still normal. He had died human.

  Brett handed Carver his handgun and absently stroked the dog’s head. He began to cry.

  Carver picked the boy up and hugged him tightly. Kyle rushed up and grasped them both. They all began to sob. Their losses had finally bubbled up to the surface.

  They stood together, letting their sorrow flow. The others turned away and gave them time to grieve. The sun was just peeking over the mountains, and a blanket of light moved slowly across the desert.

  “Do you hear that?” Kinney said.

  A far-off droning sound came from the west.

  “Yeah. What is it?” Laura asked.

  The rest of the adults started jogging back to camp, while Kyle, Brett, and Carver unclenched and slowly walked behind. They were halfway to camp when the sound became more distinct, and Shrek began to bark.

  Carver urged the boys along as the sound of an approaching Osprey echoed throughout the Valley. Carver got to the parking lot of the camp just as the massive tiltrotor settled down onto the hard-packed dirt space.

  Carver separated himself from the boys and started walking to the back of the craft. The ramp dropped down, and a ghost from the past stepped off.

  “Goddam, Carver. It’s great to see you,” Porky Shader barked.

  The big SEAL strode over and gave Carver a bear hug but received nothing in return.

  “What’s wrong, buddy? The cavalry is here.”

  “You’re a day late,” Carver shouted.

  John spun around and walked back to Beckham Hall, leaving a stunned Shader standing in the parking lot, dust swirling around as the Osprey wound down its engines.

  Potoski walked up next to Shader.

  “What the fuck’s gotten into him?” the big Marine asked.

  “Welcome to Lost Valley?” Shader sarcastically replied. “Come on. Let’s unload the gear. Then we can figure out why we’re not welcome.”

  — 38 —

  Beckham Hall

  Lost Valley Scout Camp

  “We shall defend our island, whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender.”

  WINSTON CHURCHILL

  They gathered in Beckham Hall. One group devastated at their losses and the other elated at their salvation. It didn’t make for a good start.

  “I’m sorry, John,” Shader said after listening to the recount of their prior day. “We were in the same boat.”

  “Yeah. And I’d like to know what happened to my house!” Jennifer said.

  Kinney sighed.

  “We’ll talk later,” Kinney said. It was a story he didn’t want to tell her.

  Carver sat at the table, his head in his hands. The irony and tragedy of the new group’s arrival was not lost on him. Had they come just one day earlier, their firepower would have turned the tide of the battle. Hope and Trey would still be alive. But fate dealt them a shit hand, and they’d all played it to the best of their ability. Most had survived, but the ones who mattered most to John, Kyle, and Brett hadn’t made it.

  “We still need to patrol down to the Yuma campground and do a body count,” Kinney said. “Then we’ve got to come up with a defensive plan to protect this place.”

  “Let’s go,” Shader said, patting Carver on the shoulder. “You need to move, or you’ll stay here all day. Put it…”

  “I know,” Carver said, interrupting his friend. “Put it in a box and put it away.”

  Shader nodded and rose.

  “Let’s go,” Carver said.

  They walked to the campground about half a mile from Beckham. Menily and Gardner walked together, quietly commenting on the surrounding desert floor. Menily pointed to different spots on the ground, and at one point, they both squatted over some footprints and examined the sandy dirt.

  They got to the tent city, or at least, what was left of it. The canvas structures had been ripped apart, and disemboweled corpses lay scattered everywhere. Men, women, and a few small children had been eviscerated. Nothing left but scattered bones and strands of sinew.

  No one turned away. They’d seen enough death to tolerate the sight. It had been a rapid and traumatic transformation from their former “civilized” lives. They all now carried the scars of witnessing nature’s brutality. Like jaded cops at a fatal accident scene, they walked calmly through the camp. Their purposeful movements were clinical and precise.

  They finished their assessment and returned to Beckham Hall.

  “We’re short three people,” Laura Reedy said. “Where are they?”

  “Should we search for them?” Shader asked. “Maybe they escaped.”

  “I doubt it, but I don’t want to just abandon them,” Carver replied. “Chances are, if they weren’t eaten then they’re infected and running with the pack.”

  “Yeah. About that,” Shader said. “We call the infected Variants.”

  “Whatever,” Carver replied. “Variants. Infected. They’re all the enemy.”

  “Looks like there were several hundred or more,” Menily said.

  “I agree,” Gardner replied. “I tracked at least four large groups of over a hundred each. How many people lived in the area?”

  “Borrego Springs had over three thousan
d. That doesn’t count the ones outside of town. Maybe five thousand or so. But that’s just a guess,” Kinney replied.

  “Maybe they carried the bodies with them, like they did Miss Torrence,” Brett said.

  “What did you say?” Shader asked.

  “Huh? That they killed Miss Torrence.”

  “Did you say that they carried her body off?”

  “Well, not her body. She was alive when they grabbed her. She’s a Variant now, or worse,” Carver said quietly.

  Porky began to quiver. Could it be possible?

  “Hey, Chief,” Gonzalez said, “are you thinking what I am?”

  “Yeah, Gonzalez. She might still be alive,” Porky said.

  Both Kyle and Carver bolted upright.

  “Don’t fuck with me,” Carver hissed, both anger and hope in his voice.

  “Chief ain’t fuckin’ with you,” Lazzaro said, his leg re-bandaged by Chris Reedy. He sat at the next table, his injured limb elevated. “Chief saw the Variant nest. They keep a stable of live people for food. Sometimes they don’t eat them for days.”

  “Saw it with my own eyes,” Shader said.

  “Me too,” Morales added, holding the young girl he’d saved. “This one here, I rescued from their farm.”

  Carver looked hopefully at Kyle. Could it be true? Could Hope still be alive?

  “She was captured by the Variants?” Carver asked, pointing to the small girl in Morales’s lap.

  “Sí! She was there for days before I got her out.”

  “We just need to know where they took her,” Shader said. “Where’s their nest?”

  No one knew. The group deflated. Hope and possibly three other victims could be alive, but that they didn’t know where.

  They couldn’t save anyone if they didn’t know where they were.

  Shrek stood up and nudged Carver with his snout. He stared up at his master.

  Carver looked down and into his partner’s eyes. They communicated like no two humans could. After a few moments, they both understood what needed to be done.

  “Shrek can find her,” he said confidently.

  Shrek barked, as if telling them all that he was up for the job.

  “Yeah!” Shader replied. “That dog can hunt. But we need a plan.”

  “Hard to plan when we don’t know what we’re up against, Chief,” Gonzalez said.

  “The Pig’s right,” Lazzaro said. “What the hell are we up against?”

  “I don’t know, and I don’t care,” Carver replied. “But we don’t have the time to do a pre-operation con-fab. Hope and those others…”

  Carver stopped and caught himself. He’d already put Hope in a box and pushed her memory down into his ever-expanding emotional rabbit hole. He had to stay focused.

  “Well, at least let’s put a basic battle plan together. I’d like to know who’s doing what.”

  “Agreed.”

  Thirty minutes later, the group had their basic assignments. Carver and Shrek would take point while Shader would lead the main force. They’d give the war dog team a chance to blaze the trail, then make an assault plan based on their final destination.

  “Now, as far as the point. I think it should be just me and Shrek,” Carver began. “We’ve been a team for years and we can move quickly. The trail started out going east. That leads into the mountains. It’ll be a tough slog.”

  “Sorry, Carver,” Shader said. “You need a team around you. You know that. Fire support can’t come from one gun.”

  “I can go,” Gonzalez said. “I’m in good shape.”

  “Keele?” Shader asked. “You want to join?”

  “Sure, Chief. Someone’s got to keep the PIG in line.”

  “Who else?” Shader said. “I’m too old to do that shit.”

  “I’ll go,” a quiet voice said. It was Kyle.

  “Sorry kid. You’re too young.” Shader quickly replied.

  Kyle stood up and racked a shell into his shotgun.

  “That’s my mom out there. I have more of a right than anyone here to be with you! Don’t take that away from me!”

  The room remained quiet as Shader and Kyle stared at each other.

  “Hey. I wouldn’t mind a street sweeper on the team,” Gonzalez said, referring to Kyle’s shotgun. “Kind makes an impression, if you know what I mean.”

  Carver looked at both Shader and Kyle. The boy stood defiantly.

  “Okay, kid. You’re in.” Carver said.

  Kyle sat down, but his demeanor remained the same. He felt no fear, just anger and a commitment to bring his mother home or perish with her.

  “Lazzaro, you’re here with the refugees. Keep them safe,” Shader said.

  Lazzaro wasn’t happy about being left behind, but the refugees from the Forum needing to be protected, and the injured Marine was a natural choice to stay back.

  “Copy that, Chief.”

  “Hey. Don’t drink all the beer while we’re gone,” Keele joked.

  “You touch my Modelo and I’ll break your sorry ass,” Kinney replied.

  “You’ve got beer?” Keele asked. He hadn’t known that.

  “Yeah. And it’s not for the likes of you. Don’t fuck with my beer!”

  Lazzaro nodded. “No problem, Kinney.” The injured man smiled. He didn’t look too sincere in his promise.

  “No, I mean it. Stay away from my house.”

  “All right. That’s enough!” Carver yelled. “Quit screwing around. Everyone, focus!”

  They all nodded, but the smiles remained.

  “What are you grinning about?” Carver barked at Kinney.

  “I don’t know, John. It’s just nice to smile. I mean, think about how we felt just a few hours ago. It sucked. Hope was dead and we were on our last leg. We didn’t stand a chance against those things and they’d just kicked our asses. Now…”

  “Now, my mom may be alive, and we have enough people to wipe them off the face of the earth!” Kyle added. “I know why I’m smiling.”

  “Copy that, young man,” Shader said appreciatively. “We were on a death ship, until Donaldson and Everly got us out of there.”

  The two pilots blushed and nodded.

  “And we’d all be dead if it wasn’t for Mr. Shader,” the little girl in Morales’s lap said quietly.

  Morales hugged the girl, who he thought was sleeping during the meeting. “She’s right, Shader. We can’t thank you enough.”

  It was Porky’s turn to blush.

  “Then, let’s finish the day as good as it started,” Carver said confidently. He stood up and grabbed his rifle. “I’m ready when you all are.”

  Shrek barked and went to Carver’s side. The SEAL reached down and rubbed the dog’s coat, then looked into his eyes.

  “Let’s find Hope!” he said to the Mal.

  Shrek

  Carver is ready to go to war. I am ready to track the Variants and bring Hope back home. Their acrid odor saturates the air. It won’t be hard to do.

  We will hunt them now and bring death to them all. They’ve attacked us, and they will pay. The warriors around me are now my people, and I will protect my family with my life. It is what I was bred for. It was what I live for, and with Carver at my side, it is something I am willing to die for. We are Carver and Shrek. We were the best. I am the ghost that kills in the night. I will win. I always do.

  — 39 —

  Satan’s Gate

  Anza-Borrego Desert State Park

  “These are the times that try men’s souls.”

  THOMAS PAINE

  Shrek moved with swift confidence. His intensity hadn’t varied since they’d begun tracking the horde over two hours ago. They’d moved off of the grassy high plain and into the mountains where the rocks left no sign of the pack’s passing. If it hadn’t been for the Mal’s nose, they’d have lost the trail long ago.

  The group kept pace with Shrek, but the elevation changes made travel difficult. There were many trails and washouts the Variants could have take
n, but either their simple minds failed to register less physically stressful routes, or they weren’t affected by the climbs. Either way, the path Shrek followed was linear. Once, the climb went nearly vertical and Carver forced the Malinois to circle around the peak. He picked up the scent on the other side.

  They were moving downhill, following a ravine that had been cut into the side of the mountain. The path wound around small peaks where the Variants would climb up and over the edges of the shallow escarpments. Carver kept Shrek in the washout, and they never failed to find the trail further down.

  “Okay. Let’s stop and hydrate.”

  Gonzalez, Keele, and Carver each pulled their hydration hose to their mouths. The end was clipped to their shoulder strap and connected to the CamelBak water pouches that were in their assault packs. They pinched the bite valve with their front teeth and sucked down several gulps of water.

  Kyle grabbed a bottle of water from his backpack and drained it.

  “They’re heading toward the desert floor,” Carver said. “That doesn’t make sense. I don’t know any large structures out there and these things don’t like the light.”

  Carver studied the topo map he’d brought and found nothing that would hold the hundreds of Variants they were following. It was perplexing.

  Kyle stood back as the adults talked. He waited for them to finish before he spoke up.

  “Mr. Carver. Can I look at the map?”

  “Sure, Kyle. Maybe you have an idea.” He handed the map to the young man.

  Kyle studied the map briefly, then held it out to Carver and pointed to a spot a mile down the mountain. It was a dead end to a canyon called “Satan’s Gate.”

  “I believe they went there.”

  “Why do you think that?” Carver said. “There are no buildings. It’s just a dead end.”

  “No sir. There is something there. A cave. A big cave.”

  Carver studied the topographic lines and various marked points of interest. “It’s not on the map.”

  “Well,” Kyle began. “It’s kind of a scout secret. At least, we don’t talk to the counselors about it. Some of the older guys said that they’d been inside, although I’ve never gone myself. But I’ve heard there’s a cave and it has Indian artifacts in it. One of the OA’s told me that inside, there are even rooms cut out of the side of rock and that an ancient tribe probably lived there.”