Run (Book 2): The Crossing

by Rich Restucci

  Seyfert looked helplessly at Dallas, who smiled and spat on the captain’s boot. “You could use a shine there, Private Gump.”

  The man back-handed Dallas, punched him in the stomach, and then in the face. Dallas spat blood. “You hit like an ole’ woman. Speakin’ of ole’ wimmin, your mom says hi. She was hangin’ out with me—” The man punched him twice more.

  “Captain, you could kill him, he has a concussion.”

  “Then you should probably tell me what I want to know soon.” He punched again. And again.

  “So this is your new world order, killing civilians?”

  “To save my country?” the man asked incredulously. “I would kill as many as I needed. So should you.” Dallas was unconscious, so the Captain slapped him, disgusted. “Typical.”

  Seyfert could hear the engine and rotors of a large helicopter. His captor perked up when he heard them as well. “I tried to be nice,” was all he said, and he began removing his gloves. He strode from the tent, and Seyfert was left alone with two unconscious men, two guards and his thoughts. The captain had never even asked him his name.

  After repeated futile attempts to rouse Dallas by calling to him, Seyfert pleaded to one of his guards to check for a pulse. The guard acquiesced, and told the SEAL that his friend was still alive. Then he and the other guard apologized for the terrible treatment they had received. One man slung his weapon and brought forth a wet cloth to wipe the Texan’s face. Dallas’s eyes fluttered, but he didn’t wake.

  The noise from the helicopter had grown extreme, and then diminished as the machine powered down. The captain returned ten minutes or so later with another group in tow. In addition to the returning soldier, there was a shorter man, older than the captain also in black camouflage, with the embroidered golden III on his breast. This man had a black beret, which he promptly removed when he entered the tent. He was armed with a pistol. Flanking him were two more men, each with a P90 submachine gun, and behind them was a giant, six foot ten easy. He had to duck when he came into the tent. He stood to the rear, holding on to a bloody and disheveled, albeit conscious and walking Androwski. His mouth was taped with duct tape.

  Seyfert breathed a sigh of relief. At least they hadn’t killed anyone yet.

  The shorter man stepped forward. “You’ve been busy, Captain.”

  “Yes, sir, I have been trying to get them to reveal the mission specifics about their operation, but they have been…resolute.”

  “As well they should be.” He looked at Seyfert. “This is the other SEAL?”

  “Yes, sir, we haven’t questioned him yet.”

  “Don’t bother, it would be a waste of time.” He glanced at Dallas and said matter-of-factly, “This man isn’t military.”

  “No sir, he came in with this one just an hour ago.”

  “You worked him over pretty hard, Brooks would be impressed.”

  The captain half-smiled. “Thank you, sir.”

  “But I’m not.” The new man pulled his pistol and shot the captain in the face. Two more suppressed Pap! noises came from behind him, and the two men with the submachine guns dropped to the floor. The leader aimed his weapon at the two guards. “Where did you serve before the plague?” The huge man had picked up the P90s from his fallen companions, and had one in each massive hand.

  The guards looked nervous. “Uh…seventh infantry under Doherty. Sir.”

  He holstered his suppressed weapon. “Regular Army. Good, you can come with us. If you had been National Guard, I would have shot you both. Release this man, we need to get out of here. There’s a sizable force of undead on the way, half an hour out. Five or six hundred at least, and they will follow the noise of the helo.” As if to punctuate his statement, several rifle shots were heard from outside.

  One of the guards stepped up and cut Seyfert’s bonds. Rubbing his wrists, he stood and looked at the newcomer. He was confused. “What just happened?”

  “I shot a brutal bastard, and Barry shot two more.” He nodded toward the giant. “Look, son, I don’t have time for bullshit, if we’re still here in a half hour, we’re all dead. There isn’t enough ammo for the pack I saw on the way. I hear tell that LAV is yours?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Take it and your injured friends and get out of here. I will ride in the Abrams with what soldiers are loyal to me that can fit, and Barry will drive one of the buses with the civilians and the rest. The other bus will have to stay here. We’ll follow you, and assist you on your way to Boston, depositing the civvies in a safe place.”

  Seyfert was flabbergasted. “Sir, I…how did…when…?”

  “You weren’t the only group that was contacted by MIT. In fact, you are the back-up plan. We can discuss this along the way.”

  Seyfert folded his arms across his chest and scowled. “Sir, I don’t trust you.”

  “Good,” the man said without hesitation and drew his weapon, “My name is Colonel John Lester Bourne, and we are coming with you, or more to the point, you with us.” He turned the weapon around and handed the butt end to Seyfert. “Change of plans, Barry you drive the tank, I will go with them.” He then took Stark and threw him over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, Stark easily outweighing him by sixty pounds. “I will ride with you in the LAV and tell you what’s going on, I can be your hostage if you want to call it that. Once I’ve given you the details of your mission, you will understand we are on the same side.” Seyfert didn’t move. “He’s heavy, son,” was all the colonel said, and he strode from the tent.

  The giant soldier named Barry cut the zip tie on Androwski’s wrists and passed him a P90. “You two,” he said to the guards in a baritone voice, “with me.”

  The three left the tent with Androwski and Seyfert staring at each other, speechless.

  23

  Rick and Teems were staring at dusty old computer monitors in a computer room in the secret facility they had located. It looked as if the computers hadn’t been touched in years. There was a huge screen over the monitors and smaller ones throughout the room. Chris Rawding, the resident computer geek, had been summoned and was on his way.

  The underground installation they had found was fairly sizable, perhaps three times the size of the depot above. There were numerous doors and several tunnels that led to who knows where. Some of the doors were locked, but most were open, and even ajar. The Rock Steady’s were exploring, and exclamations could be heard here and there. In one of the huge rooms were racks and racks of military MREs, meals ready to eat, and on others were older K-rations. Dozens of fifty-five gallon drums filled the rest of the room, and when one was opened, Teems said it smelled like a swimming pool. “Preserved water,” Rick told him. “Probably good forever, although I bet it tastes like you’re drinking out of a Jacuzzi.”

  There was a sleeping area with twenty bunk beds, the smelly mattresses rolled up and tied together with wire. A bathroom with community showers done in yellow tile was found near the sleeping area, and a workout room next to that with an ancient but functional Universal machine and some free weights. The other rooms were as yet to be explored or locked.

  Chris showed up, awe on his face when he saw the banks of computers. “Those are old Micral P6’s!” he shouted. “Nobody’s seen one of those in forty years!” He looked around some more at the large screen and the radio equipment in the corner. Slowly he turned to Rick and Teems, “Do you know where we are right now?”

  “No, that’s why we called you. We figured you’re our nerd and would tell us what all this is.”

  Chris swallowed hard. “This is your basic nuclear missile silo. It looks abandoned, and I doubt these rigs,” he pointed at the computers, “will even fire up, but this is a missile silo!”

  His obvious excitement was making Rick smile. “We got you kid, it’s a silo. Why is that so wonderful?”

  Chris looked at him like he had three heads. “Rick, if there was say, oh I don’t know, a horrible plague of some kind, the safest place on the planet would
probably be NORAD. After that, it would be a missile silo. This place probably has food and water for up to twenty people for thirty years if they didn’t remove it! Not to mention escape tunnels, and a nuclear missile!”

  “This place looks kind of…unused…don’t you think they would have removed all the weapons and the missile?”

  “Yeah! The military would have removed the warheads, and weapons, but left everything else. They probably plowed over the launch tube, and there are cornstalks over it now. There are probably two or three other silos attached to this one, each capable of sustaining two dozen or so people for years. This place is perfect for your group, Teems! Once we figure out the locks on the doors, a million of those things couldn’t break in. They could wander all they want up in the depot, but they could never get down here.”

  “Well, that’s good news. The thing is, we tend to move around a lot. Nomad-like, you know what I’m saying?”

  “Teems! Do you know what I’m saying? This place is impregnable, probably stocked, and safe. You’re on motorcycles. I’ve never heard of an armored Harley, so the first time you come over a hill or around a corner into a swarm of those things, you’re history. You’ve got kids, stay here.”

  Rick was still smiling. “Kid’s got a point, Teems. You might want to hole up here at least for the time being.

  Danny showed up and called to his father. “Dad, can we play now?”

  “You shouldn’t be down here yet, buddy, we haven’t cleared it.”

  “But Mr. Calvin said it was okay. He said that there was nobody but us down here.”

  Teems and his son continued to talk while Chris looked under the tables and benches and pored over the computers. Here and there the computer whiz would give short exclamations, and he was deep into his search of the area when Anna came in looking for Rick.

  She pulled him aside and spoke in low tones while the others were busy. “Rick, we’ve got trouble.”

  “What kind of trouble?”

  “The kind that rolls in with two tanks and a very familiar armored vehicle. There’s a school bus and some other vehicles as well.”

  Rick put his fingers through his hair. “Jesus, a tank?”

  “Looks just like the one we saw outside of Salt Lake, and it’s coming up the road now. There’s another tank thing with it too.”

  There were shouts inside the complex now, and Teems told his son to stay with Chris. By the time Rick and Teems got to the roof, the school bus, a blue Chevy Cavalier, two Humvees, and the LAV were already parked in the depot parking lot. The tank was rolling in. Men in black camo were exiting the Humvees with their hands on their heads. The back of the LAV opened, and Seyfert, Androwski, and a man Rick didn’t know got out. Ed and the other bikers got out of the Humvees.

  “Rick,” Seyfert shouted, “we need Doc. Dallas and Stark are busted up! Hurry!” Two men Rick didn’t know moved Dallas from the LAV to the ground in front of the depot door. Rick hurried downstairs and grabbed the doctor on the way. He told Teems to shut and lock the door, and not to let anyone in without his okay.

  The doctor looked at Stark first, and concluded that the SEAL suffered from multiple contusions and abrasions, possibly a concussion and maybe a broken jaw. “Basically he had the shit beaten out of him,” were his words.

  Dallas was in worse shape.

  “I told this man not to take any whacks to the head. What happened? He looks like he was on the losing side of a bar fight.”

  “He was interrogated by one of my underlings,” the shorter man said. “That particular problem has been rectified, but others have arisen, I’m afraid.”

  Rick narrowed his eyes. “Who are you exactly?”

  “We can discuss those formalities soon, but we should get inside. A sizable force of undead were almost upon us at the checkpoint, and they most certainly will follow our engine noises, not to mention any undead presence in the general vicinity of this facility. I believe your friends have vetted me already.”

  “He’s on our side, Rick,” Androwski agreed. “Or if he isn’t then we’re all screwed anyway.”

  24

  The depot had ample room for all the vehicles as it had been devoid of any farm equipment. Once they were parked inside, and twenty six new family members from the school bus were introduced, the new man told an interesting story.

  The Triumvirate was nothing more than three men with power. Bourne, Brooks, and Recht. Bourne had the military personnel and most of the equipment, as he was a colonel in the US Army. Initially, his mission was to contain the spread of the plague by destroying highways and off ramps using explosives and heavy machinery. That had failed. Command had then decided on a new tactic, and the mission parameters changed to the fortification and holding of Lincoln, Nebraska against the undead menace at all costs. There had been significant success at first, then contact with command was lost, as were supply routes and reinforcements. Short on fighters, equipment, and food, Bourne had resorted to asking the locals for help.

  He came across a group of about two thousand people holed up in Cornhusker Stadium following a televangelist by the name of Zachary Recht. Recht had an unbelievable hold on the people of the mid-west before the plague, but now his grip had been solidified. People thought he was the second coming. Literally. Bourne soon found out that whatever Recht asked of his people, they did it. They did it without question, and Bourne realized that he could get things done with this man in charge of the civilians. A week after Bourne met him, Recht had his own security squad armed with submachine guns, and he had converted a luxury box in the stadium to his own private penthouse, complete with kept women. Apparently his sexual proclivities leant toward the weird, and he had more than enough women willing to further said depravities. He and all his followers believed that the undead were sinners who hadn’t or wouldn’t repent, and he referred to them as The Fallen. His daily sermons had an odd effect on many folks, and even the most devout atheists were soon in his camp. He also walked almost daily through the tent-city that was the inside of the stadium, personally ministering to the sick or injured, or giving spiritual guidance to the faithful and unfaithful alike. The people loved him.

  One final supply chopper had landed in the stadium, and that chopper had contained a bona fide Superman. Brooks. This man was a CIA asset of the most unpredictable kind, and came with all kinds of wonderful toys. Satellite links, locations of weapon caches in rural Nebraska towns as well as in Lincoln and nearby other cities, and security codes to almost every covert installation in the mid-west. The man was a genius with everything from fixing the plumbing at the stadium, to hacking the security system on an A10 Thunderbolt attack jet, to killing undead with his bare hands without so much as a scratch. He was the kind of guy that knew everything about everything, and was always the guy who could kill everyone in the room. He even had a military airfield at his disposal. The only problem was he was an evil, sadistic bastard. He had no compunctions about killing anyone who he thought posed a problem of any kind, and people who so much as disagreed with him tended to go missing, or were found stumbling around with their throat cut or even worse, with no visible wounds at all, looking for someone to eat. He was a master at interrogation, and could get information from most people without torture, but he enjoyed the torture so much that he would often “interrogate” someone for days without asking any questions.

  After they had fortified the stadium, the three men got to talking, and they formed an alliance.

  Bourne controlled the fighters and military equipment, Recht the people, and Brooks knew everything. There was no more government as they knew it, and supplies were not coming in anymore, so something needed to be done. Forays were organized into the city proper to gather equipment, supplies, and more people, which they had found in droves at first, and then they started to dwindle. As the survivors waned, the undead waxed, and soon there were fifty thousand undead beating against the walls and fortifications of Cornhusker Stadium. Weapons and ammo were running short,
so a plan was made. Bourne would train soldiers, Recht would provide morale, and Brooks would procure everything they needed and provide “security.” In two weeks, the undead population outside the gates had grown to almost eighty thousand, and in four weeks the soldiers, equipment and training had reduced that number to stragglers that came out of the city or the surrounding countryside. The gates to the stadium were opened, but remained well-manned, and teams had begun to scour the city in earnest.

  One day, Brooks and his team had come back driving an eighteen-wheel semi-truck full of goodies, not the least of which were black BDUs. Hundreds of them. Recht thought that the community should have a name, and he went religious, but Brooks was a huge fan of Roman history, so he came up with The Triumvirate. Recht loved it. It didn’t focus on a place, or even on a government, but on a ruling class of people.

  It was then that things started to go awry. An officer close to Bourne, Major Cushing, discovered that there were people going to see Recht that didn’t come back. Mostly men, whose female partners Recht had taken a fancy to. The evening after Cushing had told Bourne about his discovery, Cushing had gone missing. After a search conducted personally by Brooks turned up no trace of the major, one of Cushing’s men had come to Bourne with a cell phone. Cell phones hadn’t worked in about a week. This call came from the wife of Major Cushing, who worked at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Dr. Cushing told Bourne exactly what Rick’s ex-wife had told Rick’s group, down to the last detail. Bourne said he would get there as soon as possible, and Dr. Cushing told him that a colleague would try to phone her husband in California to try to get him to rescue them as well. Apparently, the man was capable. A second phone call confirmed the contact between MIT and a military group containing SEALs, who had fortified Alcatraz. The group would come for the scientists, but they were a long way off. Bourne had to move fast.