Dead Air (Book One of The Dead Series)

by Schafer, Jon

  Steve looked up in surprise at that. The two had agreed earlier that it would be safer if everyone didn't go around armed.

  "I know," Tick-Tock said, seeing his look. "She refused to go unless she had one. She said she would only use it if she were trapped. I gave her that little ladies gun that the Brain had. She's a nice girl and she's down there by herself so..."

  Steve didn't want to question Tick-Tock's judgment and let it pass. Curious about something though, he asked, "Why didn't you bring anyone?"

  Tick-Tock shrugged, "Between SSO's."

  "S.S.O.'s?" Steve asked.

  "Steady Significant Others," Tick-Tock answered.

  Wanting to learn more about the man that he couldn't learn from his file, Steve asked, "Family?"

  "I've got a sister I haven't talked to in five years. If I ever think of something to say to her, I'll give her a call."

  "Like the dead are walking the earth?" Steve said as an example.

  ''Not important enough," Tick-Tock replied in a deadpan voice. Looking at his watch he said, "I've got to go, I'm on in five.''

  "Do me a favor," Steve said. "I’m going to try and get some sleep. Tell Mary I'll talk to her when I get up. Tell Marcia to take over calling the aide stations from Jonny and then tell Jonny to get some sleep."

  "Will do," Tick-Tock replied as he closed the door behind him.

  Steve had the office speaker turned up so he could listen to the people calling in while he searched the net for information. Now, he turned it down before stretching out on the couch.

  He thought of Heather and Ginny, wondering where they were and if they were even alive. He half-heard Tick-Tock take over and listened to the updated announcements as he reviewed everything he had done and what he still needed to do.

  To start off his music set, Tick-Tock played Asia's ‘Heat of the Moment’. For a few minutes, Steve's mind wandered and he was transported back to the end of his junior year in high school.

  It was May and winter was just a bad memory. For his birthday he had bought himself a 1972 Dodge Charger, so after class and a few times instead of going to class, he and a girl named Margret would cruise the lake or go back to her parents’ house and hang out.

  And make out, he reminded himself.

  It seemed like ‘Heat of the Moment’ was always playing on the radio. Every time it came on, he and Margret would sing along as loud as they could.

  Good memories.

  Steve had gone back to his hometown years later and ran into Margret in a sports bar. She was still as beautiful as she was back in the day, but the magic between them had passed. They kicked around old times for a while and parted ways.

  Just before sleep took him, Steve wondered if Margret was alive.

  He hoped so.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Across the United States:

  The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs called the meeting to order over the speakerphone. The day before, for a variety of reasons, the Joint Chiefs had split up and positioned themselves at various military bases across the country. Their main motive was to better direct their efforts at retaking the United States, but their ulterior motive was that it would be more difficult to arrest them all at the same time on the charge of treason.

  This second scenario did not seem likely to come about anytime soon as the situation was still too confusing. Amidst the chaos that the United States had fallen into, no one had yet caught on to the fact that the Army, Navy, Air force and Marines were starting to leave their bases and engage the living dead on U.S. soil. Given time, the President and the remaining politicians would find that they had been usurped and be forced to take action. In the meantime, the Joint Chiefs’ plan continued to move forward.

  Civilian communication had been disrupted throughout the states, so word that the military had finally started to retake the dead areas was slow to get out. But this also meant that word that its leaders were traitors was also slow to get out. Regardless of who saved them, the first people rescued looked on the military as liberators, not occupiers, so there had been no problems. The question asked of the soldiers and Marines most often after they showed up to eradicate the walking dead was, ''What took you so long?" not, "Why are you here without Presidential authorization?"

  The speakerphone crackled as the various branches of the military gave their progress reports. When they were finished, the Chairman asked, "What is our best estimate at how long this campaign will take?"

  After much discussion, a time was thrown out as being the soonest possible in which complete control could be regained in America.

  Two years.

  The lengthy delay arose in that the military had to make sure they eradicated all infected persons from a specific area before moving on. All structures, sewers and drainage systems had to be thoroughly searched and cleared or the chance of the HWNW Virus popping back up would make the effort moot. Those areas furthest from the starting points of the operations would have to fend for themselves the longest until help could arrive.

  It was proposed not to release this information to the general public until a tentative date when U.S. forces would enter a specific area could be set for all parts of the United States. Once this was confirmed, only then would any evacuation plans be made to try to rescue people from those areas.

  Since the operation was still in its infancy, it was agreed that no firm schedule could be put out. Manpower was allocated to look into a timetable, and any action was tabled until the report came back.

  The Joint Chiefs then moved on to other business.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Clearwater, Florida:

  Steve woke with a start. He'd been dreaming that his cell phone had been ringing and when he looked at the caller ID had seen it was Heather. Awake now, he felt disappointed that it was only a dream.

  The office was dark, with only a small slice of light coming in from where he had left the door slightly open. Checking his watch, he saw it was three AM. Music played softly from the speaker, but he couldn’t discern which song. Jonny G was on, so it was probably something alternative, he decided. They had all taken turns throughout the day working in the studio as information continued to roll in from listeners calling from as far away as Orlando, Sarasota and Hernando County.

  Many told horror stories of people being killed and eaten and how the dead were overwhelming the police and National Guard. Some spoke of how they had barricaded themselves inside homes and businesses and were going to wait until the worst of the disaster passed. When Steve heard this, his first thought was that they had a long wait.

  Earlier in the evening, on Steve's shift, an airman stationed at McDill Airbase in Tampa had called in to say that most of the personnel there had been redeployed to other parts of the country. A handful of units were still waiting to leave, and those who would remain were only security people who would keep the base open. When Steve asked, the airman told him that no plans were in the works to relieve the beleaguered cities of Tampa and St. Petersburg.

  Steve then asked him about conditions in Ybor City, where he believed Ginny had gone.

  The airman had replied, "It’s history. They did an over flight of Ybor, and when they came back I talked to the chopper's crew chief. He said it's still burning. He said they could see thousands of those things all over Tampa."

  Steve had questioned the man for a few more minutes, but he had no further information. Switching to the next caller, he listened to a man tell his story of how he had to shoot his wife when she came home showing a bite on her hand.

  The landlines went down again shortly after that, and in a way, it was a relief for him to play music and not have to listen to any more tales of death and destruction.

  Getting up from the couch, Steve walked to the window and gazed out. A few smoldering fires were still burning near the marina, giving the scene a hazy look. They had worried earlier that with all the fires going unchecked the whole area might go up but this hadn't been the case. Once the flames h
ad consumed what was combustible in their immediate area, they seemed to go out. A late season rain helped, dowsing the city with almost two inches before heading out into the Gulf.

  A few blocks over, in another office building, Steve saw a figure pass in front of a lighted window. It moved in an easy manner indicating that it was more than likely human. Or at least he hoped so.

  Turning, he went out into the reception area and found Marcia still sitting at her desk.

  She gave him a smile and said, "The regular phone lines are back up and I've been trying those numbers you gave me from my cell and the land line, but I didn't get hold of anyone. The first one keeps coming back that the caller is unavailable, and the other goes straight to voicemail."

  "That's okay, thanks for trying." Steve replied and then said, "Why don't you get some sleep. There are a couple couches in the conference room you can stretch out on. I'll keep an eye on the desk."

  "No, that's all right," She replied, "Jonny's off in a few hours so I'll wait for him. He's so excited that he's finally got his own show, I don't think he'll be able to sleep when he finally gets a chance." She shook her head and frowned, "Weird how that worked out. The world had to end for him to get his wish of having his own radio show."

  Steve didn't know how to reply to that. He didn't want to lie and say that everything would be all right when that was obviously untrue. He also didn’t want to depress Marcia with his own prediction that the whole group was in for an extended stay at the Garnett Bank Building and that any type of normal life was a long, long way off.

  Instead of voicing his thoughts, he told Marcia to hang in there and moved off toward the studio. As he walked, he ran what she had told him about the phones through his head. Heather's cell had been sending calls to voicemail all day and night. He hoped it was a case of her being too busy to pick up as opposed to not being able to because she was dead.

  Or worse, he added, wandering around incapable of human speech.

  Ginny's cell number had quit giving the message that all lines were busy and had switched to the party is unavailable recording hours ago. Steve's imagination had run wild after hearing this. He envisioned a melted piece of plastic not far from a charred corpse that had been his girlfriend.

  Now he had to accept the fact that his chances of being reunited with Ginny fell in the range of slim to none.

  Heather was a different story though, he reasoned. She was armed and capable. She might be able to make it to the station.

  Stopping at the glass wall separating the hall from the studio, he exchanged waves with Jonny G before going back toward his office. Looking into the conference room, he saw that Meat and his girlfriend, Donna, had pushed two couches together and then laid sleeping bags over them to make a bed. It reminded him that coming up with permanent housing arrangements had to be added to his list of things to do today. He resolved to try and stay organized. He was the leader and needed to stay on top of everything no matter how insignificant it seemed.

  As he stepped back into his dark office, a brilliant flash of light from outside suddenly blinded Steve. Turning his head away from the windows, his first thought was that someone had set off a bomb as he waited for a sound of the explosion. He squinted, trying to see through the glare, then heard the rattle of automatic rifles and the deeper, throaty cough of the fifty-caliber machine gun from the street below.

  After a few seconds, the light faded enough for him to approach the window and look out. He could see a flare dangling below a parachute drifting below and off to his right. This explained the sudden burst of illumination. One of the National Guardsmen had used a pop-up flare, and it must have gone off right outside his window.

  Steve pressed his forehead against the glass and looked down. In the stark relief of light from the flare, he took in the scene below. The MRAP was still parked in the center of the street. Instead of a perimeter of National Guardsmen around it though, it was encircled by hundreds of the living dead.

  As he watched, a panicked trooper opened the rear hatch of the armored vehicle to try and climb inside to safety. With only one foot in, he was mobbed and pulled back by a crowd of zombies then disappeared into their mass.

  The dead awkwardly clambered over each other to enter the MRAP while above them, the gunner manning the fifty continued to fire his weapon. His concentration was focused down the street, so he was unaware that he was no longer firing from a secure position.

  Steve pounded with no effect on the safety glass to warn him, the noise was lost due to distance and the sounds of the battle below. He watched as the soldier suddenly straightened and then started thrashing around in the open turret before being dragged below.

  After grabbing his pistol and two spare magazines, Steve ran from his office yelling, "Tick-Tock, Meat, Brain, quick, the foyer. We have to secure it."

  Despite the dire situation, Steve almost laughed out loud at how he sounded. Just like Bruce Wayne saying, Quick, Robin, to the bat cave.

  Marcia had a cell phone to her ear and called out as Steve passed her in the reception area, "It's Susan. She's still downstairs."

  Steve knew he had to move fast; all Susan had was the little .25 caliber pistol. Without waiting for the others, he raced outside into the hall, noticing that Pontran wasn't at his post as he made the corner and headed for the stairs. Taking them two at a time, he reached the first floor and stopped at the door leading to the foyer. He didn't want to go bursting into a room full of zombies, so he pressed his ear against it.

  Hearing nothing, he carefully cracked open the door and looked out. He could see that the double front doors leading out onto the street were closed, and he was relieved that no dead were in view. He’d wanted to keep the entry doors locked but the National Guardsmen had insisted they stay open so they could use the bathroom and be able to switch guards easier.

  Steve didn't want to give himself away to the dead outside the glass, so instead of going into the foyer he said in a stage whisper, "Susan, are you out there?"

  Getting no answer, he called out louder, "Susan, if you can hear me, answer."

  A timid voice came back, "Who's there?"

  Relieved that she was all right, he said, "It's me, Steve. Where are you? Are any of the National Guard Troops with you?"

  "I'm at the door to the mechanical room. I'm alone. Those guys got killed. I watched it. It was horrible," she replied as she choked back a sob.

  "It's okay now, I'm here. You have to hold it together though," Steve said in a calming voice and then asked, "You have to tell me, are those doors unlocked?"

  "That's why I'm hiding in here," she replied loudly. "I didn't want to show myself and draw them into the building."

  "Shhh," Steve said. "They're attracted by noise."

  He heard footsteps thudding down the stairs behind him. Steve turned and saw Tick-Tock and Brain round the landing one flight up. Quietly, he asked, "Where's Meat?"

  "Coming," Tick-Tock replied. "He's right behind us." As he said this, Meat rounded the landing, huffing and puffing.

  Looking at the bulky Brain and comparing him to the lanky Meat caused Steve to ask Brain incredulously, "You outran Meat?"

  Looking offended, Brain replied indignantly, "Fat people are nimble. Didn't you ever see Rerun dance on the show ‘What's Happening’?"

  Tick-Tock snorted out a muffed laugh, "Guess he told you, Rog."

  In spite of the situation, Steve smiled before saying quietly, "Listen up, Susan's stuck in the mechanical room and the front door is open. What I want to do is lock that door. I don't want a complicated plan; I just want that door locked. We line up and go out in a rush. Tick-Tock pushes open the right hand door -."

  "Open?" Meat almost shouted.

  "I've got to make sure the upper and lower bolts are shut on the left hand door, or it won't make any difference if we lock the right one, they'll just bust through," he explained. "It won't take a second, and I want you and Brain behind that right side door ready to pull it back shut once I
'm done. Then we lock it and haul ass upstairs."

  "Are we talking right and left as we look at it from the inside or outside?" Brain asked.

  So much for keeping it uncomplicated, Steve thought.

  Tick-Tock spoke up, asking, "Is your ass inside or outside the building?"

  "Inside," Brain replied, to which Tick-Tock gave him a 'no shit' expression and looked back to Steve.

  "Go on three?" He asked.

  "On three, but let me tell Susan what we’re up to." When he finished, he pulled back from the door, turned and said, "Count it down, Brain."

  Looking startled that he was given what he considered an honor, Brain recovered quickly. "One, two, three," he said, with an emphasis on the three. At this, the four men burst out of the stairway and made straight for the double doors.

  That was when everything went to hell.

  After telling Susan their plan, Steve had turned away and wasn't watching the entry. In the time it took Brain to count to three, a zombie had opened the front door in search of food. Running forward, Steve saw the dead thing, dressed in a Miami Dolphins jersey, standing half inside the opening. Seeing food running toward it, it reached out to grab at him so he reacted instinctively and grabbed it instead. Snatching the thing by the wrist, he yanked it inside the foyer and twisted, using centrifugal force to spin the zombie across the foyer where it bounced off a far wall and landed on the floor. Pushing the right side door open to get at the latches, he yelled to Tick-Tock, "Shoot it!"

  Tick-Tock aimed his pistol, but the walking dead on the outside also heard the shout and turned their attention to where Steve was fumbling to throw the lower latch on the door.

  With whining, screeching noises, over fifty zombies converged on the entry to the Garnett Building.

  As Steve crouched in the opening, rattling the door back and forth to make the bolt drop down into its hole, he heard two quick gunshots from behind him. The bolt finally dropped and he pushed the lever down so it lay flush. Standing to get at the top latch, he looked up and saw one of the dead only five feet away and coming toward him fast.