by Thomas Key
Chapter Twenty-Three
Natalie began first. “The two of us,” she pointed to her and Cassandra, “We were freshly back from serving in Europe. No combat, mind you, but it was definitely educational. We didn’t have much to do while we were there, so we spent most of the time visiting local hotspots. We visited Paris and had a crap ton of parties on our time off.” “Good times,” Cassandra threw in. Natalie nodded. “When the outbreak started to ravish the United States, most of the military was recalled from abroad. Our tour was cut short and our unit was thrown onto a couple of Globemasters.” Rachel looked questioningly at the two women. “They’re these massive planes that the Airforce used to transport troops and goods around the world,” she clarified. Rachel nodded her understanding. “So anyway, we found ourselves recalled. When we landed in the good US of A, shit was already going crazy. We landed, and immediately refueled. We weren’t on the ground for very long before we began to have stragglers coming from a damaged portion of the fence line and heading for us. We had seen the news and we saw the writing on the wall. We took up tactical positions around the plane and fired on any of those things heading our way. Other planes around us were constantly landing or taking off.” Cassandra nodded, “It was a damn madhouse,” she said. Natalie continued, “We were one of the last flights that made it out of there. The base was overrun shortly after. We zigzagged across the US as one base granted us permission to land only to revoke it as they too came under attack. Our pilot and some of what was left of our brass made the decision to head for home. Cannon AFB was our destination and when we landed, it was actually quite peaceful. In fact, everything looked normal. We, of course, expected the worst. The base commander met us on the tarmac, and welcomed us with open arms. They had been fighting off small groups of infected and were low on staff, and so we filled in. Almost all of us were trained engineers and having the knowledge of how to build..” “Or blow up,” Cassandra cut her off. “Yes, or blow up damn near anything,” Natalie grinned as she continued on. “We came in handy. Now we are the brains behind all of the new buildings going on around the base,” she said proudly. Rachel nodded, remembering just how many new buildings or contraptions had been built since their initial arrival. Cassandra spoke, “I miss the hell out of Netflix. It was the best lover that I ever had,” she said, Rachel looked at her in puzzlement. “Guys are trash lovers and Netflix was always there for me,” Cassandra said, a broad smile across her face. Rachel smiled, something that she had not done in days. “That took forever, girl,” Cassandra said, commenting about her smile. Rachel shrugged, her smile fading. “We get it. You’ve had a rough go of it. So from now on, you’ll be having breakfast with us and there is no way out of it so don’t bother trying,” Natalie said. Rachel simply shrugged again.
Eventually, breakfast was over. The two airmen went to bed and Rachel began her day. She reported to duty, but was told she would be off duty for several more days. She went to the bar, ‘Ye olde Watering Hole’ said the wooden sign mounted outside. The civilians had voted for that name apparently. When she entered, she was not surprised to see the place packed. Apparently, the end of the world was good for business. The base utilized a credit system for currency, where the engineers had figured out a way to produce cards with magnetic strips that would allow base personnel to add or subtract credits similar to a debit or credit card. That system enabled people to earn a living so to speak, while allowing the stability that currency afforded. If you didn’t do the work, you didn’t receive credits and you didn’t eat. In the zombapoc though, everyone worked or they died. The drinks were cheap, as their raids to local stores had produced hundreds of cases of beer. No one wanted a belligerent, wasteful drunk walking around causing trouble, and so the alcohol was only allowed at the bar and the bartenders knew when to cut off the flow. If the scavengers found and brought alcohol back with them, they could sell it for credits to the bar, or drink it within the walls, and prices for the goods were based on availability and risk. The harder it was to get something, the more it’s worth. She found an empty seat, one of only two in the entire place and sat down heavily. A waitress asked for her order and placed it, and Rachel sat, looking around at the assorted tables. At most, jokes and stories were being told, creating a warm atmosphere at a majority of the bar. Mixed in though, she could see people like her, trying to drink away their nightmares or their memories. She received her beer, a tall cider. For those of you who don’t believe that cider is ‘real’ beer, she would happily inform you that it generally has a higher alcohol content than most beers, and that by default, makes her beer manlier than any other. “Officer on deck!” someone in the crowd shouted, and every single soldier, sailor, airmen, and marine immediately stood at attention. That was mighty impressive, considering some were almost to the point of being drunk. Wobbling or not, they were standing as straight up as possible. “As you were,” the figure said as he made it past the entrance and into the bar. Rachel had been one of those at attention and she slowly lowered herself back into her seat. The cider was on her table and as she took her first sip, she realized that the figure had stopped to her right. She glanced up and saw that it was the base commander, Johnson. She had only met him twice, once on their arrival to base and next when she was sworn in to serve. “Sir?” she made a move to stand back up, believing possibly that he wanted her seat. He waived his hand in a dismissive gesture. “I’m here for you,” he said, coming to stand opposite of her. “For me, sir?” she asked, completely perturbed. “I was debriefed regarding your unsanctioned mission to Albuquerque for those children,” he said, causing Rachel to move uncomfortably in her seat. Her eyes looked down at her glass as she took another swig. After a moment of awkward silence, she responded. “I’m sorry sir. We felt it was the right thing to do.” His hard eyes softened ever so slightly. “I’m not here to chew you out. I’m here because I agree with your assessment.” She looked into his eyes, completely shocked. “Thank you, sir,” she said, almost stuttering it out. He smiled, it was the first time she had ever seen the man smile, even in passing or on events when he was off duty. “You did the right thing. Those kids needed help, and those kids are our future. If we have any hope of continuing the human race, we need to save and raise as many children as possible.” Rachel nodded. “That is why I am here now. Every single member of your group attested to your level headedness, your ability to think on your feet, and putting the children’s safety above yours and that of your team,” he said. Rachel took a long pull from her beer. “Thank you sir, but I lost people.” “That happens,” he replied. “Any military leader worth their weight has lost troops. It’s that first loss that provides wisdom to every decision after that. It makes us more careful, more involved. I have no doubt that’s what it will do for you,” he said. The crowd around them had quieted down as several tables of patrons had left. The time hit 8pm and lights out was at 9pm. There was a curfew between 10pm and 5am for anyone other than active guards as a safety precaution so most on base took the 9-5 hours to get their sleep in. “So if you don’t mind my being blunt sir, you didn’t come here just to compliment me, did you?” she asked. He smiled again. “Right on the nose. I am putting together a mission and I want you and your team involved.” Her eyebrow raised in surprise. “I’m sorry sir, I don’t think I’d do anyone any good right now.” “I’m reassigning you so there is really no point in saying no, although obviously, I’d prefer if you were doing it because you want to.” She sighed, finishing her beer. “Yes sir, I’m in.” “Great. I thought you’d say that. Be at my office at 0915 for a read in,” he said, paying for her drink and leaving the bar. She sat, and watched him leave. What in the hell? she asked herself as she looked at her watch and decided to call it a night, not having any clue in the slightest what the next day would hold.
The meeting started promptly at 0914 with Rachel, Jaylin, and Isabel standing on the opposite side of a large wooden desk. On the other side was the base commander and two other men Rachel had never seen.
One was a very thin and tall man wearing a navy uniform and the other was an air force. “I’ll start by thanking you all for being here. These two men have read through all of your files several times over, so I will cut to the chase and introduce who they are. This is Captain Ryan O’Guinn of the USS Mobile Bay,” The man nodded slightly, “and this is Major Stephen Pendley of the Air Force's 6th Reconnaissance Squadron based out of Holloman AFB.” He nodded as well. “Now that we are all acquainted, let's get started.” He motioned for everyone to take chairs assembled around the room. The seats were by no means the plastic and metal ones littered around the base. These were the kinds that only the top dogs got to sit in; politicians and military officers. The leather chairs felt awkward to the group of women now sitting in them. Colonel Johnson opened a manila envelope and pulled out several photographs. He stood and hung each of them up on a bulletin board that was previously cleared of any information. It seemed rather out of place in his office. He tacked each one up, one at a time, before he sat back down. “The photograph on the right was taken by a surveillance aircraft operating in the New Mexico desert, several days ago.” As the women studied the photograph, it was evident that it was a photograph of a black hawk helicopter completely painted in black camouflage. When he figured enough time passed, he moved to the next one. “The next photo is of the same helicopter just two miles south of this base.” Sure enough, the black hawk had landed with what looked like several men in various states of entry into the aircraft as it sat on the sand. “The third photograph is of the helicopter landing at a previously unknown facility,” he said. Rachel took all three pictures in, and then looked at the Colonel. He was staring right back at her. “Do you have a question?” he asked. “Yes sir.” She took a deep breath, “Are these the ones responsible for our base sabotage over the past few weeks?” she asked. Major Pendley spoke up. “We’ve been able to identify signals coming from the facility that match those used by our aircraft software. It can be assumed that they have the ability to hack into some of our systems.” “He means yes,” Johnson said. “We also believe that there are a small handful of saboteurs within the base itself. Based on the amount of issues that our aircraft here have run into, both while operating and those still on the ground.” “So what are we here for, sir?” Rachel spoke up again. “You are here because we are planning a joint operation to find out who is causing harm to my beloved base, our troops and why. We will find a way into the facility, and we will have a chat with whoever is responsible.” He looked each of the women in the eye before proceeding. “We will have the support of the USS Mobile Bay. The Captain here will have his ship parked along the Gulf of Mexico, just off of the coast of Texas. They are the only available naval support in the area, as the rest of the surviving fleet is still reorganizing itself. Inundated with refugees and low on supplies, their operational capabilities are severely limited. However, with the help of Captain O’Guinn, we will be able to rain down hell on the facility if for any reason we deem it necessary to do so.” Major Pendley leaned forward. “Unfortunately, Holloman AFB was between training cycles and we did not have nearly the success as far as recalling personnel as the Colonel did here. We only have a half dozen pilots and four of our unmanned pilots remaining. We will be pooling our resources to transport a strike team to the facility. This will include two dozen hand selected personnel, of all branches. You three will be responsible for helping to select the rest of the ground teams and for assisting in the planning department, then entering the facility. You’ll be working with a small group of other base members who each bring a different perspective. From medical, to our tech guys to our engineers, you all will have a say in how this goes down.” Rachel looked at the other two women in the room. It was, of course, a huge task, and one not to be taken lightly. Looking into their eyes though, she could see the same level of determination as was in herself. “We’re in, sir,” she said, and the two women nodded behind her. “Great,” Johnson said as he stood up, “Head to the briefing room to meet the other members of your team.” The other two officers both nodded to the group as they left the room. Once the door was closed behind them, all three men sat. Johnson let out a breath and pulled out a bottle of Glenlivet Scotch, and three glasses. Placing them on the table and filling each one three fingers. “Are you going to tell them?” the Major asked. Johnson pulled out the last photo in the envelope and stared at it long and hard. “Not yet. They’ve got a job to do.” The photo being placed back into the envelope was a zoomed in shot of Shepherd being loaded into the same black hawk as the squad in all black before it arrived at the facility in the New Mexico desert.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ken watched the small group drive away and a majority of the horde of infected give chase. They would never catch up, he knew and as the tail lights pulled away, he sighed deeply, knowing that his friends and the children were now safe. He turned back from the window and looked into the eyes of the others in the room. Atencio and Ashmore were the only ones left with him. They too had watched the Humvee drive off. The infected playing around at the door had tapered off with the vehicle leaving. He peered back down at the driveway below and saw two dozen or so still standing around below them, between them and the way they had come. Jumping from the window now was out of the question. If any of them suffered any type of injuries, they would be quickly overtaken, and it would be tough to outrun any of the fast infected in the middle of the night. After a fair bit of discussion, they sat on the carpeted floor of the bedroom, resting while they could. As if somehow the undead below knew that that was exactly what the survivors were doing, they, once again, began their assault on the door. From a light tap tap tap on the wood to an all-out beating with many fists. It once again began to shake, and cracks were widening. “So, what’s the plan?” Ashmore said quietly. “We can try to find a way out of this mess or go down with the ship in a blaze of glory.” “The second one doesn't sound like very much fun,” Atencio muttered. “You really only like to do fun things, don't you?” Ken asked her. “Well yeah, who doesn’t?” He shrugged. “I’m glad that everyone else got away at least,” he said. “Yeah, but it doesn’t do us much good right now, does it?” Atencio responded. Ken looked at her, “No, it doesn’t, but isn’t that worth something to you?” he asked, anger flaring up within him. She met his gaze, “Of course, it is. I’m glad they made it too, but I don’t know about you, I would have much rather made it out with them than sitting in this cold ass room, surrounded by zombies that want to eat me, in what could quite possibly be my last few minutes alive,” she raised her voice as she finished the last sentence. Another loud crack from the door was the only response. “So, what’s the plan?” Ashmore asked once again. Kenneth stood and stretched, taking stock of what was in the room. Several candles were arranged on a night stand, the bed having been pushed aside in the rush to get to the window. A small closet that would barely fit one of them was off to the left side. Standing and walking to it, he opened it, finding 18 pairs of women’s shoes and one pair of men’s. That caused a smile to form on his worn face. A bottle of liquor was stashed under a pile of clothes in the very corner of the closet, as if one of the two former roommates were hiding it from the other. He grabbed it and looked it over. It was a bottle of cheap vodka. Maybe we can just get wasted before we die, he thought, but pushed it to the back of his mind. He placed the bottle on the bed, closed the closet and then went to the dresser. Inside, he found a wide assortment of clothing, and the ever-present parental toy drawer. If you’re not sure what a toy drawer is in an adult’s bedroom, you will someday. Nothing is more exciting to a married adult than play time. There was nothing of real value, other than a box of caramel cake mix and its partner, a tub of frosting stashed under several well used t-shirts. What the hell was cake mix doing in the drawer? Try as he might, he could not comprehend it, but he still tried, standing stock-still staring at the drawer for several minutes before finally shaking his head and closing the drawers. People are so weird, he th
ought. Walking back to the two women who were also now standing up, checking their weapons and slowly reloading magazines. “We need to get through the mass of zombies if we want to get out of here,” Ken said. “Any ideas?” he asked the duo. They both shook their heads. Ashmore then stopped and looked at the bed and the bottle now laying on it. “Why don't we burn them out?” she asked. “Huh?” Atencio asked, completely confused. “Burn the fuckers out. Use fire to clear us a path?” “Where do you see any fire here?” Atencio asked her, still in confusion. Ashmore walked to the bed and held up the nearly full fifth of liquor. “Molotov anyone?” she said with a grin.
With a loud whoosh, they dropped the Molotov onto the grass just to the side of the driveway. The unwatered dead shrubbery quickly caught and spread the fire like a true forest fire would be proud of. The infected slowly began to migrate over to the flames, as if they were entranced by it. They didn’t seem to mind as their skin began to smoke and literally melt off of their bodies. The skin began to drip off of those closest to the fire, with muscle becoming visible. The white tendons followed shortly thereafter. The fire moved up one wall of the house, following the long dead vines that had once been absolutely beautiful to the former homeowner. Infected from all around the house converged and stood, watching the flames dance as they burned alive. Wait, is that even accurate? If they're dead, can they burn alive? Ken asked himself as he watched. A breeze swept into the open window and the smell of burning flesh washed over them. There was definitely a hint of that bacon smell, but it was followed by the smell of burning clothing and burning shit. Literally, burning shit. Then the crackling of burning wood quickly assailed their ears. “That worked well,” Ken said, high-fiving Ashmore. “Now what?” Atencio asked. “We wait. Does anyone have any cards?” he asked, sitting back down.