The Rising Horde, Volume Two (Sequel to The Gathering Dead )

by Stephen Knight

  “Yes, sir. Do you—”

  “Later, Chase. Much later.” Jaworski pulled open the door and left the TOC.

  ***

  McDaniels went outside the inner gate with the Ranger elements in charge of the cleanup. He’d ordered Gartrell to remain inside the walls and keep an eye on the men. It was the first time most of them had engaged the zeds, and that could be a very mentally punishing exercise. On top of that, twenty or thirty families had been directly attacked. As far as McDaniels could tell, none of them had survived the assault. But he wanted to make sure.

  After he had watched the small child crawl out from beneath the pile of smoking, dead zombies, he knew there might be more that would need to be killed. He wanted to be on hand when the Rangers found them, so he could ensure the zombies were killed immediately. There might be some confusion when they finally dug down to where the bodies of the attacked lay, and of course, everyone would have hope that someone might have survived. He didn’t want there to be any confusion. Even though all the Rangers had received inoculations that should prevent them from turning into the walking dead in the event they were bitten, a bite would still be a painful affair, and he knew the stenches carried a host of other diseases. Some of those diseases might not be treatable by the cash and could lead to deaths that might have been avoided.

  He pulled on his Mission Oriented Protective Posture (MOPP) IV gear, which consisted of a lightweight full-head mask that would protect him from nuclear, biological, and chemical contaminants. The full-body suit was not only waterproof, but airtight, and the respirator array would filter out all sorts of NBC particles, including airborne pathogens as small as eleven microns in size. The ensemble was hardly comfortable, and even though the current iteration of Army NBC gear had been developed around being able to continue to fight the enemy in even nuclear fallout, McDaniels found he couldn’t see very well through the mask, and there was no chance of him being able to hear much of anything. Thankfully, he had several dozen Rangers backing him up from bunkered positions fifty meters away, and Special Forces snipers had overwatch from the wall and observation towers. If something went bad, he had enough firepower arrayed to give him and the rest of the haul-and-drag detachment enough time to boogie.

  One of the engineers drove a bulldozer out of the camp and over the drawbridge as it was lowered back into place. Behind the bulldozer came the Strykers, which were full of engineers who would repair the concertina wire barriers. The bulldozer driver’s mission didn’t require a lot of finesse. He would simply push piles of the dead into the first of the incendiary-filled trenches.

  Though McDaniels knew white phosphorous was needed to ignite the mixture, being that close to trenches full of semi-gelatinous jet fuel still made him nervous.

  In the near distance, another air strike was underway. He couldn’t hear the roar of the B-52s high in the sky, but it was obvious the ancient bombers were at it again. The desert was lit up by exploding incendiary bombs that sent great mushroom clouds of fire and smoke rising into the sky.

  Still, zeds came. Like demonic apparitions, they stumbled through the inferno, their skin melting, necrotic bodies barely capable of motion. Only a few, but no matter how intense the bombing was, some still managed to get through. In reward for their efforts, the zombies were felled by precision sniper fire or, in a few cases, bursts from the chainguns of the hovering Apaches. Those shambling shapes silhouetted against the backdrop of the raging inferno was an eerie thing to witness. Several of the Rangers stood guard, the visors of their SOICS platforms rendering their faces unreadable. McDaniels wondered if their optics could see anything through the heat of the flames.

  He got his hands dirty helping the Rangers stack the dead zombies into a pile for the dozer to push into the trench. He kept his eyes on what he was doing, ensuring the body he was pulling showed no signs of animation. One of the Rangers was horrified to find a decapitated head that wasn’t dead. The dull eyes moved, and the mouth opened and closed. McDaniels told him to throw it in the trench, and the soldier did as instructed. After an hour, they came across another live one. Its body was badly mangled from weapons fire, but it still possessed the need to feed, and it reached for McDaniels as he stepped toward it. He raised his rifle and fired a round through its skull, then hauled the carcass to the growing pile.

  His radio crackled. “Ah, Hercules Six. This is Hercules Ops. Come in. Over.”

  “Ops, this is Hercules Six.” McDaniels’s voice sounded weary in his own ears, and it was just the beginning. More sniper weapons fired from the towers, behind and above him. “Go ahead. Over.”

  “Hercules Six, this is Ops. You need to come back inside the camp, sir. Over.”

  “What’s the problem, Ops? Over.”

  There was a lengthy pause. “Hercules Six, Hercules Ops. Uh, we have a problem inside the camp. Over.”

  “Ops, this is Six. If it’s not security-related, contact Leonidas to handle it. Over.”

  Captain Chase came on the radio. “Hercules Six, this is Hercules Ops. You need to come back inside the camp, Colonel. As in right now. Over.”

  A sudden chill descended over McDaniels. My God, has something happened to Lenny?

  “Ops, this is Six. What is it? Over.”

  “Hercules Six, just come back into the camp. Over.” Chase’s voice was full of uncharacteristic emotion.

  The rest of the soldiers continued their work, but some of them shot glances his way, their eyes full of curiosity behind the glass of their facemasks.

  “Ops, this is Hercules Six. Roger, I’m on my way in.”

  ***

  Dusty Roads met him at the gate in one of the ATVs. As McDaniels pulled off his mask, he noted the Special Force’s NCO’s somber expression. He tried to haul himself into the cart, but his MOPP gear was too bulky. Roads jerked a thumb toward the ATV’s flat bed.

  “Have a seat in back, Colonel.”

  “What’s the problem?” McDaniels asked as he climbed onto the vehicle.

  “You should see it for yourself, sir.”

  McDaniels grabbed one of Roads’s beefy shoulders. “Dusty, is it my son?”

  Roads looked surprised for a moment, then shook his head. “No. No, sir. It’s not your son. Sorry, I didn’t even think of that. He’s all right, as far as I know.” He set the ATV into motion and cruised through the camp at a considerably fast clip. Soldiers and civilians alike had to jump out of his way as he drove the rugged vehicle toward the area where the officer quarters had been established. He brought it to a shuddering halt outside of one of a dozen tents, and McDaniels recognized it as the one Jaworski used.

  A sense of grim foreboding descended upon him as he slid off the ATV’s bed. Several soldiers stood around outside, including Bull Haley. The Ranger commander looked at McDaniels with flat, expressionless eyes.

  “What’s up, Bull?”

  Haley swept aside one of the tent flaps. “Check it out for yourself.”

  McDaniels sighed heavily and stepped inside the tent. He saw the doctor from the cash and some other soldiers hovering over the single cot.

  Gartrell stood behind them, his AA-12 slung across his chest, his MP-5 across his back. He looked at McDaniels and shook his head slowly. “Looks like everyone moves up a notch in rank, sir.”

  McDaniels pushed his way to the side of the cot. Colonel Stanislaw Jaworski lay on his back, his eyes open and staring. A good chunk of the top of his head was missing. His sidearm was still clutched in his right hand.

  “Holy fuck,” was all McDaniels could say.

  “He was dead before we got here, Colonel,” the doctor said. “There was nothing we could do for him.” He looked down at the dead man for a long moment. “I wonder why he did it.”

  McDaniels rubbed his eyes tiredly. “I have no idea.”

  “Because he saw what happened to the civilians, Major.” Gartrell spoke with finality. “Because he refused to let them in and they were attacked by the zeds, and he hadn’t really realized
just how fucking horrible a thing that is to watch. Even from a distance, it’s just about the worst thing you could ever watch.”

  “You’re probably right, Sarmajor. But I guess we won’t ever truly know, will we?” The doctor regarded Jaworski’s still body thoughtfully, his mouth turned downward.

  McDaniels turned to Gartrell. “Secure the colonel’s belongings, Sergeant Major. Then bring them to the TOC.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Major, bag and tag the body, then have it brought to the airfield. The Night Stalkers can carry it out of here on their next run.” As he spoke, McDaniels heard the thunderous roar of one of the MH-47s lifting off into the night.

  “Sounds like we just missed it,” the doctor said, looking up.

  McDaniels shook his head and turned for the tent’s entrance. “I don’t think he’s going to mind the wait.”

  7

  The TOC was a beehive of activity, and almost no one even noticed when McDaniels entered. He nodded to Captain Chase and took a look at the situation boards. Air strikes were coming in with hardly a break between them; B-52s were the most favored platform, but regrettably the rarest. The Air Force was keeping enough heavy iron in the air to keep the heat off SPARTA for a while. How long that would last, he had no idea.

  Chase walked toward him. “Colonel.” He held an envelope in one of his massive hands. “This was left for you by Colonel Jaworski.”

  McDaniels took the envelope. His name was written on the front in Jaworski’s neat handwriting. He tore it open unceremoniously and pulled out the contents—a single handwritten page.

  Cord,

  All ATOs are updated. Controllers have the info on CAS.

  Leader board also updated. You’ll need to contact RAPIER soonest.

  You were right. Just didn’t expect the guilt to come so soon.

  Do yourself a favor. Get more transports and get the civilians out.

  Then get out yourselves.

  Stas

  McDaniels read the note twice, then handed it to Chase. At first, the hulking captain didn’t seem to know what to do. McDaniels motioned for him to read it.

  When Chase was done, he handed it back to McDaniels. “So what’s the op, sir?”

  “We keep on keeping on, Captain. We need to push every munition we can get down zed’s throat. When do we get more B-52s?”

  Chase turned and looked at the situation boards. “Twenty minutes, then not for another forty minutes after that. We have a flight of B-1s and another strike package of F-15s and some old FB-111s in between the Buffs. According to some of the zoomies there—” Chase jerked his thumb over his shoulder, indicating the Air Force controllers who were managing the close air support missions. “—they pulled those planes out of storage just two days ago.”

  “Whatever keeps the stenches off our backs, I’m all for it. I couldn’t give a damn if they fly over in Piper Cubs, just so long as they can drop the ordnance we need.”

  “Yes, sir. Sir, will you be taking over Colonel Jaworski’s station?”

  McDaniels looked past Chase at the vacant workstation. It was right next to his old station. He shook his head. “Not unless there’s a reason I have to. Give it to Colonel Haley. He’ll be taking over command of the QRF.”

  “Roger, sir. Uh, Rapier has been calling for updates. They don’t know about Jaworski’s circumstances just yet, Colonel. I figured you’d be the one to tell them.”

  McDaniels sighed and nodded. “You figured correctly, Captain.” He looked around the TOC. Rawlings leaned back in his chair and stared at him from twenty feet away, his arms crossed over his chest.

  Switchblade Lewis was monitoring the engagements outside the perimeter. He looked up from his display for a moment and met McDaniels’s gaze. He nodded and shot McDaniels a brief thumbs up, then returned to his work.

  The door opened, and Gartrell stepped in carrying a bag. Haley rolled in right behind him, followed by Roads and several other soldiers.

  Haley waved them out. “We don’t have the room for all these bodies,” he said, his voice gruff and sharp. “You guys go back to your duty stations.” He looked around the TOC, then fixed his gaze on McDaniels. “So you’re the main man, now?”

  “It looks that way.”

  “I have no problem with that. But I can’t believe Jaworski did himself. If nothing else, that’s one dose of vaccine that could have gone to someone else.”

  “Colonel Jaworski never had a shot, sir,” Chase said.

  Haley looked over at him. “Say again, Chase?”

  “Colonel Jaworski never took a shot of the juice, sir. He wanted to make sure everyone else got theirs before he took one.” Chase paused for a moment, then shrugged. “Don’t know why he never took one, but you can’t really hold that against him now.”

  Hayley nodded. “Yeah. Guess not.”

  McDaniels headed for his station and sat heavily in the chair. He watched as Gartrell stuffed the bag of Jaworski’s possessions into a locker. He reached for one of the satellite phones, then hit the speed dial combination to initiate the call.

  “Rapier Operations. Over.”

  “Rapier, this is Hercules Six. We have a situation with SPARTA. Over.”

  “Hercules Six, this is Rapier. Say your situation. Over.”

  “Rapier, Hercules Six. Leonidas is no longer with us. I say again, Leonidas is down. Over.”

  “Ah… Hercules Six, Rapier. Stand by. Over.”

  McDaniels shook his head. Whoever was manning the commo center at SOCOM wasn’t about to do anything with that information before General Abelson received it. Not that there was much to do… McDaniels was next in the line of succession. He looked up when Haley stopped beside him. McDaniels nodded toward Jaworski’s old workstation. Haley looked at it blankly.

  “It’s just a place to sit while you take over QRF operations,” McDaniels said. “It’s not haunted or anything.”

  “Why didn’t you take it?” Haley asked.

  “Because all my stuff his here.”

  Haley grunted. “Who’re you jawing with, Cordell?”

  “Rapier, as soon as they come back. Have a seat, Bull. You’re next on the hit parade.”

  Haley grunted again and slid into Jaworski’s old chair. He adjusted his SCAR so he could sit more comfortably.

  A voice came through the satellite phone’s speaker. “Hercules Six, this is Rapier Six. Over,” Lieutenant General Ableson said.

  “Rapier Six, this is Hercules Six. Go ahead. Over.”

  “Hercules Six, give it to me straight. What happened to Leonidas? Over.”

  “Rapier, this is Hercules Six. Leonidas is dead from a, uh, self-inflicted gunshot wound. Over.”

  After a pause, “Roger that, Hercules Six. Cord, you are now in command of the task force. Follow the plans of accession. Lieutenant Colonel Haley will become commander of the quick reaction force in addition to the Rangers, and Major Lewis and Commander Rawlings will retain OPCON of the Special Forces and SEALs. You’re clear on all that? Over.”

  “Roger Rapier, I’m squared away on the accession. Hercules is now Leonidas. How are things over in Florida, sir? Over.”

  “They’re getting better, Leonidas. We’re in one of the bunkers, and there’s no way they can get to us. Security says they’re actually moving on, now. We’re picking them off as they try to leave the base, and the word is we’ve taken down over forty thousand of the stenches already. Over.”

  “Rapier, this is Leonidas. That’s good news, sir. What else do you have for us? Are the secondary manufacturing sites coming online? Over.”

  “Leonidas, this is Rapier Six. Everything is coming together, just very, very slowly. We might be asking you to start sending out the scientists soon. We’ll need to get some of them up to Canada to assist with the manufacturing of the drug there. By the way, you want to hear something funny? Some staffer who represents the FDA tells us we can’t distribute the drug until they approve it. I don’t know how that guy managed to survive
, and I’m unsure if the Food and Drug Administration is still functioning, but someone out there has some chutzpah left. Over.”

  “Rapier Six, this is Leonidas. Roger, sir, we’ll make sure the scientists and researchers are sent out as soon as we get the word. What else is going on in the world? Over.”

  “Some interesting things, Cordell,” Abelson said, skipping the tactical designations. “Very, very interesting. We’re not sure why it’s happening, but it looks like every zed in the nation has turned toward Texas. Over fourteen million stenches seem to be walking toward the Lone Star State, and we’re not sure what to make of that. Over.”

  McDaniels didn’t know what to make of it either, so he stood and looked at Chase. “Captain Chase? Do we still receive real time satellite imagery?”

  “Yes, sir. What do you need to see?”

  “Rapier tells me that all the zeds are turning toward Texas. Confirm that if you can.”

  “Roger that, sir.”

  McDaniels sat down again, ignoring Haley and Gartrell as they approached his workstation. Both men seemed to have taken a sudden interest in his side of the conversation.

  “Rapier, this is Leonidas. Um… roger your last about the zeds turning our way. I think we need to try to figure out why that’s happening. SPARTA’s in good shape for the moment, but we’re pretty much decisively engaged with what we already have. Another fourteen or fifteen million is going to break the bank, Rapier. We don’t have the firepower to kill that many stenches. Over.”

  “Leonidas, this is Rapier. We get that, Colonel. We’re passing it on to Air Force operations and FORSCOM. Forces Command has a major initiative planned, and they’re moving all of Eye Corps from Lewis/McCord to stage out of Carson. The First Armored is setting up around Bliss as a blocking force should the zeds in your area decide to move northerly, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. The Fourth is leaving Carson to reinforce them, and if the Big Red One can sustain their area of operations, elements of the First Infantry might come along for the ride. Fort Hood is holding out for the moment; they’ve contracted their defenses to the point to where they can send out substantial saturation fires. But the necromorphs are starting to leave and head your way. Over.”