The Rising Horde, Volume One

by Stephen Knight

  No one. With the answer firmly entrenched in his mind, Lim shouted orders into the radio, encouraging his troops to destroy the dead as quickly and effectively as possible. From behind him, the Bionix IFVs opened up with their 25 millimeter cannons, firing over the soldiers and raking the waterline. The zombies went down as the big rounds passed through their bodies, blowing off limbs and exploding chests and abdomens. The assault did not kill the necromorphs, but it did slow them and give the soldiers collecting below the machinegun position additional time to more closely coordinate their attacks. Already, hundreds of zombies lay across the small beach, their skulls ravaged by bullets. The dead emerging from the water had to pick their way across the motionless corpses, which slowed them even further.

  Lim reported to the tactical operations center, advising General Singh of the 2 SIR’s tactics and results. In the distance, someone fired a flare. Lim watched as the zombies turned toward the sudden brightness, and he could almost see their eyes tracking the flare as it slowly descended to the water. He had a sudden idea.

  “Rainbow, this is Selarang Six. We need lights! The dead are attracted to lights. We can lure them into kill zones!”

  No sooner had he made the report than a new wave of the dead rose from the water. Lim saw even more shapes making their way into shallower water. There were so many…

  More flares shot into the sky. The moving corpses looked up at the light, their faces slack and dull. But for a moment, the dead stopped, as if hypnotized by the red-white flares floating in the sky.

  The troops of the 2nd Singapore Infantry Regiment advanced, the fires from their SAR-21 rifles dropping the hypnotized dead like a ball rolling through wooden skittles.

  Lim’s heart leaped. The dead far outnumbered the living, but the living still had a chance.

  15

  As the days rolled by, the objective known as SPARTA was fortified with a speed so great that even McDaniels was impressed. Great trenches twelve feet deep and fourteen feet wide were clawed into the dusty earth surrounding the pharmaceutical facility in widening concentric rings. In the coming days, they would be lined with concrete to ensure their stability, and then they would be filled with either flammable fuel or acids to burn the dead, should they make it to the facility. At the same time, the dirt from the trenches was piled into several berms inside the ring. On those berms, the first CONEX containers were positioned. The containers were forty feet long, slab-sided crates of thick, corrosion-resistant metal. Originally designed for shipping goods across oceans, the containers were a principal storage and shipping device for all sorts of military gear, from vehicles to bombs. From atop the containers, the soldiers of Joint Task Force SPARTA would make their stand against the necromorphs. Concertina wire, floodlights, searchlights, flare canisters, low-light video cameras, and other high and low-tech solutions were added to the perimeter. Anything that could be used to deny the enemy access to SPARTA was resourced.

  At the same time, more equipment showed up, much of it in the CONEX containers that went to the berms. Generators, tents, munitions, vehicles, fuel, laptop computers and personal data assistants, satellite phones, radio gear, antenna arrays, prepared meals and basic foodstuffs, cots, sleeping bags, water—everything the task force was likely to need—came in on lowboy trailers hauled by contractors. Most of the truckers were from the western states. Very few were from east of the Mississippi, and for good reason. The plague of the dead was leaving the eastern seaboard and moving across the nation.

  Watching the televised news in the tactical operations center left McDaniels feeling anxious and worried. He had talked to Paulette three times in the past twelve hours alone. She’d assured him that everything at Fort Bragg was secure. The security was so tight that her movements had been curtailed, and curfews were in effect; anyone out after sundown stood a very good chance of being shot and killed. McDaniels wasn’t surprised to hear that, but it didn’t make him stop worrying about his wife’s safety.

  One bright ray of light came from his son. Leonard was studying at University of Texas in Austin. Like McDaniels, he had been speaking to his mother as often as possible, and he was just as unnerved at the set of circumstances.

  “I think I should drive home to Mom,” he’d told McDaniels during their first conversation.

  “I think you should drive here to me,” McDaniels said. “Your mom is as safe as she can be right now, but things are going to get rough where you are. The zeds are going to hit San Antonio soon, and when that happens, we might not be able to link up at all.”

  McDaniels told his son of the current siege taking place just south of San Antonio, where a sizeable contingent of the Texas Army National Guard and in-state Reserve forces were fighting to keep the city out of the hands of the dead. News coming from the area indicated that there was some progress to that end, but other reports showed even more dead streaming into southern Texas from Mexico. Corpus Christi had managed to control its outbreaks and annihilate the burgeoning infestation of the dead inside the city limits, but Padre Island was a total loss. Anyone who had been unable to evacuate the island was believed to have perished, save for those huddled in some obviously well-fortified homes.

  San Antonio was where most of the action was. The dead bearing down on the metropolis and its defenders numbered in the hundreds of thousands. Despite withering attacks by the U.S. Air Force, the stenches kept coming. McDaniels had no doubt San Antonio would fall. While the military buildup around SPARTA was tiny in comparison to that in San Antonio, the troop density was actually greater, and the defenses were more specialized, thanks to the Corps of Engineers.

  “Dad, are you sure about that?” Lenny had asked.

  “Lenny, I saw what happened to New York firsthand. So yeah, I’m sure. The same thing could happen in Austin, too.”

  “The cops did find a few zombies here,” Lenny said. “Two of them were on campus.”

  “Not what I wanted to hear, son.”

  “Sorry.”

  McDaniels was silent for a moment, thinking over what Jaworski had told him weeks earlier when he’d found out Lenny was already in Texas. Let’s get him here. Let’s take that circumstance off the table right away.

  “Lenny, I want you to get in your car and get your butt to Odessa,” McDaniels said finally. “Do it now, while you can still leave Austin, and before the stenches to the south have their way with San Antonio. You’ll be a lot safer here than on your campus, believe me.”

  “You sure about that, Dad?” Lenny chuckled. “Maybe I should just make tracks for Canada instead!”

  “Maybe that’s not a bad idea. But humor your old man and come out this way, all right?”

  “Can I bring some people?”

  McDaniels thought about that. “No. Keep it to yourself. Tell your friends to get someplace safe and start stockpiling food, water, medical supplies, weapons, and ammunition. Shotguns will be their best friends. Speaking of which, I want you to go out and buy one right away. Twelve gauge, preferably an autoloader if you can find one. You still have the AMEX, right?”

  “Yes, sir. Though I can’t believe you’re telling me to go out and buy a high-end shotgun with it.”

  “Well, try not to go too crazy, but pick up something. A Mossberg 500, something like that. All right?”

  “Um… okay, will do.”

  “And you’re coming here, right?”

  “Dad, what about Mom?”

  “She’s as safe at Bragg as she would be anywhere else right now, Lenny. Believe me, son, I know what I’m talking about.”

  “Okay. But, Dad, there’s, um, there’s this girl here. Her name’s Belinda, and it’s kinda serious.”

  Under normal circumstances, McDaniels wouldn’t have been surprised. Leonard was a good-looking young man, smart, confident, but still lovably goofy at the same time, with a wry sense of humor and a keen wit. He’d never had any problems with girls once he’d moved out of his early teens and become more comfortable with himself. But Lenny had
never had what McDaniels regarded as a “serious” girl.

  “How serious is serious, Lenny?”

  “Well, I was going to bring her home at Christmas.”

  McDaniels’s stomach sank. “Jesus.”

  “Hey, come on, Dad. It’s not like we knew the zombie apocalypse was going to happen, you know?”

  “Just… just get over here, Lenny. As quickly as you can. Don’t tell anyone else where you’re going, or why. Just take your clothes, some food, all the cash you have, and your credit card. Buy the shotgun and as much ammo as you can. And get to Odessa.” He gave his son the address of the complex, but told him he’d probably be able to find it easily enough, as it looked like an Army outpost in a hostile country.

  Which it was.

  Lenny had promised him he would do exactly as his father asked, and didn’t mention anything further about his “serious girl.” McDaniels knew that Lenny would show up with her in tow, and wouldn’t be surprised if some of his son’s other friends made it to Odessa as well. That didn’t bother him. Lenny wasn’t the kind to cut and run on his friends, and that was fine with McDaniels. He would smooth it over with Jaworski when the time came.

  Every morning after breakfast, McDaniels and Gartrell drove around the facility in a golf cart and examined the fortifications. More helicopters were flying in and out of the landing zone established at the northern parking lot, including some slick-looking civilian jobs. Apparently, one of those aircraft had brought the team of researchers from the fallen USAMRIID, because when Gartrell whipped the little golf cart through the complex, McDaniels caught sight of Regina Safire as she and the others walked toward one of the office buildings.

  “Let’s go and say hello,” McDaniels said.

  “Sure thing.” Gartrell steered the cart and braked it to an abrupt halt only a few feet from the group of scientists and researchers.

  Regina looked over at them and smiled when she saw McDaniels. “Looks like we’re together again, Major,” she said.

  “I’m afraid it’s colonel now. You remember Gartrell, right?” McDaniels asked.

  Regina looked at Gartrell, and her mouth fell open.

  Gartrell managed a ghost of a smile. “Hello again, Miss Safire. Guess things stay the same the more they change, right?”

  Regina launched herself at him and grabbed him up in a big hug, something that made even Gartrell bark out a laugh.

  “I can’t believe you’re alive,” Regina said. “I thought you died when you led the zombies away from us so we could get to the Coast Guard boat. Thank you for saving us in New York. Thank you, thank you!”

  “Free of charge,” Gartrell said. “Now if you don’t mind, could you do me a favor?”

  “What?”

  “Stop choking me.”

  Regina laughed and released him. “Sorry about that.” She looked at McDaniels. “So you were promoted?”

  McDaniels nodded. “Both of us. I’m a lieutenant colonel, and Gartrell is now a sergeant major.”

  “If it sounds impressive, it isn’t,” Gartrell said. “And if it doesn’t sound impressive, that would be correct.”

  “What happened in Maryland?” McDaniels asked her.

  “Fort Detrick fell. The necromorphs seemed to replicate throughout the area at a phenomenal rate. I guess the, uh, authorities couldn’t handle them. It was like New York City all over again.” As she spoke, a haunted look descended upon her face. “We lost a lot of folks, including the Rid commander.”

  “How large a setback is that?”

  The blond-haired older woman McDaniels remembered as Kersey stepped forward. “It was enough to hurt, Colonel. But we’re here with all the research, and we’re ready to pick up where we left off.” She looked at Regina. “We really need to get going, Doctor Safire.”

  “Yeah, we’ll let you get back to it.” McDaniels checked his watch and nodded to Regina. “Good to see you again, ma’am. We have to head back to our operations center for a status meeting, but we’ll catch you around campus, I’m sure.”

  “Hope so.” Regina regarded him and Gartrell with a wry smile. “Looks like you guys can’t be quit of me, huh?”

  “That’s the story of my life.” Gartrell jerked his thumb toward McDaniels. “I’ve been trying to be quit of him for years, and look what happened.”

  Regina and McDaniels both laughed at the sergeant major’s dry delivery.

  ***

  Colonel Jaworski had his hands full running the task force. Even though McDaniels was supposed to be concentrating on the defense of the installation, as one of the task force senior officers, he had no choice but to get involved in the non-military issues confronting the operation. One of those issues happened to be a short woman by the name of Kensie Hobbes who represented the city of Odessa.

  When the Corps of Engineers had dug the trenches, they’d had no choice but to tear up the rural highway in front of the pharmaceutical facility. The engineers had been reluctant to do it, but McDaniels and Bull Haley had been insistent. The trenches were designed to bottle up the zeds while they were still well away from the complex, which meant almost a mile away, not a few hundred feet. Jaworski had backed up his primary shooters, and engineers did as requested, though they did ask that Jaworski confirm that federal funds would be allocated to repair all the damage done to the highway. Jaworski received the confirmation on Department of Defense letterhead in the name of the Secretary of Defense himself.

  The engineers set about chopping up the highway, but they built a wide extension to reroute traffic until the trenches could be filled in again. That had been a remarkable pain in the ass, for northbound traffic was steadily increasing as citizens fled the coming dead. Enough people complained, so Odessa sent Miss Hobbes down to find out just what in the hell the military was doing. Hobbes was short, pudgy, officious, and generally unlikeable, and McDaniels had a tough time keeping his cool while explaining that all damages would be covered by the DoD. Miss Hobbes claimed she was intending to sue on behalf of the city of Odessa and the counties of Ector and Midland, all of which depended on the well-being of Highway 385. McDaniels advised her that he wasn’t a lawyer, but he was fairly sure the federal government, which had paid for the road to be built in the first place, could very likely do whatever it wanted with Highway 385 under the current circumstances. Miss Hobbes said she would return to the county seat and make her report, citing his personal intransigence and willing neglect, and that she had no doubt a local court would be issuing a cease-and-desist order. McDaniels noted that since SPARTA was technically a federal reservation, he doubted the papers could even be legally served. Miss Hobbes waved his dissent away and retreated to her Mary-Kay-pink Cadillac STS.

  McDaniels ordered the soldiers manning the newly built gate to deny her entry should she ever come back. He wasn’t concerned about the legal action she had threatened, but he worried he might shoot her on sight.

  The legality of such a lawsuit came up during one of the status meetings, and Jaworski dismissed the concern. “She can sue all she wants. Uncle Sugar owns the road. Besides, what are they going to do, send the local PD over to arrest us after we’ve been helping them take down stenches?”

  There had been several more risings in Odessa in the past week, which wasn’t surprising. If everyone was infected with the RMA 2 virus, then they would reanimate when they died, even if from an illness not associated with the virus. The area hospitals had armed security on staff twenty-four hours a day, just in case a critically ill patient crossed the line. The only way to deal with the eventuality was to shoot the recently deceased in the head. Two of the risings had required assistance from the SEALs, who were getting very good at eradicating the infestations before they spread. McDaniels had already decided to rotate other troops into the city if the risings continued, just so everyone could get some practical experience and to prevent the SEALs from being over-resourced.

  “So does that mean I can’t shoot her?” McDaniels asked. “I just got my Heckle
r and Koch, and I’d love to break it in on a live target.” He slapped the rifle leaning against the wall beside him. When it had first arrived, he inspected the weapon, then took it to the range set up on the far western side of the area and zeroed it. After an hour, he had been hitting targets the size of a dollar bill almost six hundred yards away. He kept the HK417 assault rifle locked, loaded, and close at hand at all times.

  “You’ll get your chance. She’ll probably come back as a stench,” Jaworski said.

  McDaniels grunted, then looked up as Gartrell nudged him. The sergeant major pointed to another enlisted man standing near the conference table.

  “What’s up, son?” McDaniels asked.

  “There’re an unknown number of stenches outside an elementary school, and the local SWAT team is tied up on another call.”

  “On it,” Rawlings said immediately.

  “Negative on that, Navy. Switch, stand up an ODA for this one,” McDaniels said. “We need to start spreading the wealth before the rest of the zeds come this way.”

  “Roger that, Colonel.” Switchblade left the conference table and hurried to another part of the TOC to communicate his tasking to the lucky alpha team.

  McDaniels looked over at Rawlings and Haley. “And unless I’m totally off the wall, these uprisings have been happening a little more regularly lately. I think it might be about time for us to start deploying our external security teams on a full-time basis.”