The colonel was gesturing toward the chopper, trying to get the attention of whoever was inside. Both sliding doors were closed. Kahn, like the others, watched the craft hover and the commander try and get them to land.
The starboard door of the black aircraft suddenly slid fully open. An occupant leaned out and looked to the ground. He was a tan-skinned man with a streak of white in his brown hair. He wore a set of headphones over his ears and a pair of aviators over his eyes. More people were now congregating in the middle of the road where Kahn’s cart was parked, and they all watched the strange man. Some waved or gestured. He seemed to stare at the crowd without reaction for a moment as people tried to call to him over the noise of his ride. After a minute, he disappeared back into the helicopter.
Another object suddenly flew from the body of the Black Hawk. The people on the ground froze as they recognized that it was not the same rectangular box the flyers had been ejected from. This object flailed its limbs as it separated from the stretcher it had been lying upon. It rolled away from the taut surface of the carry bed in midair. The gaunt body wore no shirt and all could see the grevious wounds on the shoulder and chest of the falling body. The skin was the distinctive brownish-gray bruise-like color of the undead.
It struck the ground in a limp bundle, legs first, with a sickening crunch. A panicked scream rose from the audience nearby, and the entire group began to shift and move in all directions. Several men ran toward the undead quarry instead of away, seemingly to inspect and kill it if the fall hadn’t. It was unmoving in a putrid pile of its own leaking insides. Kahn could see clearly as two men cautiously tiptoed within reach of the broken corpse. Its legs were splayed and broken and the creature remained motionless.
Quickly, the corpse’s hand shot forward and grabbed the ankle of the nearest man. One crashed into the other as they both scrambled away from the now-moving body on the ground. The grip was enough to knock the man off balance and he fell hard onto his side, leaving his ankle exposed and within distance of the creature’s sharp teeth. It effortlessly sank them into the man’s flesh as he struggled and tried to pull away. The second man had recovered enough to stomp on the skull of the biter, cracking it open and violently splattering brain matter onto the hot ground.
As the bitten man silently screamed and grabbed at his bleeding leg, another shadowy object fell out of the helicopter. The entire unbelievable scene had only taken a matter of seconds, and the chopper had used the distraction of the first dead visitor to lower its altitude to slightly above the 12-foot tall fences so the infected creatures it kept strapped to the stretchers inside had a better chance of landing intact within the crowd. The man with the white streak could not been seen, but three more gray bodies were flung from the inside of the chopper and quickly plummeted into the panicked crowd below. Gunfire erupted from the towers toward the helicopter as the three creatures rose among the living and began to grasp and chase the nearest of them.
The westernmost edge of the fleeing crowd suddenly stopped and drastically changed direction. They had been running toward the two buildings that served as the medical center of LOSTOP, where Kahn had visited Daisy earlier in the day. Kahn was unable to process the sudden change until he saw several bodies stumble out from the shadows between the concrete walls. One of the corpses caught a stumbling woman and bit into her jugular, spraying bright red lifeblood across the tan grass. Several more shambling bodies appeared, coming from what could only be the damaged fence beyond.
Kahn was shoved away from his cart in the chaos as a group of a dozen survivors fled from the carnivorous monsters. He stumbled and ended up on his rear, desperately holding his arms over his face as more people trampled past. He peered in between his forearms and saw First Sergeant Mac commandeer his cart and drive away with Colonel Johns in tow. Kimble was nowhere to be seen, and the blind panic of the crowd drove Kahn first to his hands and knees and then onto his feet, fleeing south from the carnage in the flow of traffic.
He shouldered his way through the crowd and pushed to the edge, freeing himself in the grassy yard around the supply building. The steady thrum of the helicopter began to fade away as the pilot escaped. Small arms fire crackled as the towers defended the post. They fired randomly, but seemed to be focusing on the wilderness beyond the fence. Kahn was able to see shambling, broken bodies moving toward the frantic noise and movement of the post. As he watched, screams penetrated the air from throughout the facility as the crowds dissipated into buildings. He held his knees in his hands and tried to catch his breath. He had only run for a few moments but the blistering heat of the evening sun exhausted and dehydrated him almost immediately.
Kahn checked his surroundings and found he was able to slip in between two buildings and travel toward the western fence. He stepped along carefully, watching for anybody or anything that might catch him. He quickly reached the outer post barrier and walked the short distance to the rear doors of the supply building. Gunshots still penetrated the air as the guards continued engaging the dead within the perimeter.
As he approached the shadow of the building, and the pad where he charged the electric golf cart, he saw the fence here had been cut. It was ragged and hurried, quickly sliced and pulled outward to create a loop on either side of the vertical cut that was then zip tied back into itself. The opening was like a door for the undead. Luckily for Kahn, there were no walkers to be seen as he crunched by in the dry grass. Several dead bodies were clumped outside the fence, and Kahn watched the exposed treeline carefully. A few of the neon-colored propaganda flyers were caught against the fence line as he continued along.
ATTENTION IN THE AREA, ATTENTION ON POST…
The intercom speaker above Kahn’s head suddenly crackled to life. Mac’s voice boomed over the loudspeaker.
THERE HAS BEEN A PERIMETER BREACH. REMAIN CALM. SECURITY FORCES ARE SWEEPING THE INTERIOR AND EXTERIOR OF THE POST. DO NOT ENGAGE THE DEAD. RETURN TO YOUR DESIGNATION ALPHA LOCATION IF YOU ARE ABLE. IF YOU ARE UNABLE, STAY WHERE YOU ARE. IF YOU ARE BIT, LAY ON THE GROUND WITH YOUR HANDS ABOVE YOUR HEAD…
Kahn ignored the message and continued along toward the southernmost corner of the base. The opposite bunker to the TOC had become his destination as he decided he had to get away from this place. If the Neighbors found them, they wouldn’t stop at a single attempt and a couple dozen corpses. Kahn knew this would end in fire and death for everyone here. He had a plan.
It only took a few minutes for him to reach the farthest corner he could without entering the secure area that held the civilian vehicles. Normally, there were several soldiers that would be stationed at bunker #2, protecting the small cache of equipment inside. But, as he predicted, Kahn didn’t see anybody in the rarely trafficked southeastern corner.
He approached the bunker carefully, watching across for any activity from living or dead that might derail his plan. It was beginning to get quieter now, rifle fire only occasionally flaring from far away. Kahn didn’t see any vehicle or personnel movement at the locked gate leading to the southern exit, The Airlock. This southernmost containment was the most secure section of Lone Star Outpost. Four separate areas were bordered by barrier fencing and the same razor-sharp wire that topped the entire post. The eastern corner that Kahn approached kept all civilian vehicles that were in serviceable condition. They weren’t used as often as the military vehicles, but they were maintained and kept fueled in what was essentially an open parking lot. The opposite enclosure to the east housed the maintenance bay where Lars and the other mechanics worked, the fuel tankers and underground fuel tanks, and the small cache of military Humvees and trucks the post employed for most operations. In between the two motor pools was a fenced-in drive lined with concrete Jersey barriers that forced entry and exit in a slow, weaving pattern. Finally, in the southernmost center was the Airlock. It was designed to allow a single vehicle at a time to enter or exit with a sliding gate on either side and armed security with the post’s only two machine guns.
&nbs
p; The guns were silent now, and Kahn strained to look through the fencing for any activity at the Airlock. He couldn’t see or hear anything from this far away.
His palms struck the door of the bunker as he stepped into the small alcove that housed the steps into the entrance. He fumbled in his pocket for the ring of keys, one of which would open this and one other door. After a moment, he successfully turned the lock and entered the low building.
The low hum of the air conditioner greeted him as the door closed behind him. He reached and located the switch on the wall that illuminated the room in fluorescent light. Bunker #2 was very different from the TOC despite being identically built. While the TOC housed computer and radio equipment for the command staff, this bunker was bare of functional gear. It was lined front to back with shelves and stacks of excess from scavenging runs with some overrun from Kahn’s own supply building. He was mostly familiar with what was here, and was tasked with counting inventory of this building once a month even though this cache was maintained by Mac and his ops people. Kahn knew he could find a couple boxes of MREs and cases of water for his trek.
First, he looked for any weapons he could take and found nothing. The colonel was mostly supportive of Captain Louis’ insistence that all weapons be checked in and out and extras should be secured in supply. Any extras found on patrol were ordered to be promptly checked into the main building. The closest Kahn could find were a few boxes of the 30-30 ammunition the colonel had been angry about on a shelf. He left them and quickly stacked a case of MREs and three cases of water by the side exit that led into the civilian vehicle storage lot. He ignored the rest of the materials and approached his real bounty, a locked box mounted to the wall above where he staged his food and water. The box was secured and required a key but the room was filled with plenty of random objects that he knew he could find something to force it open. A stack of gardening tools caught his eye down one of the racks and he approached the lockbox with a heavy pickaxe. A single blow on the top of the box shook the muscles of both arms but dislodged the container from the concrete anchors holding it in place.
The jangle of keys rang like music in Kahn’s ears as the box struck the ground. He lowered the pick and grabbed one of the bent corners, shaking the entire thing and spilling sets of car keys out of the damaged lockbox door. He tossed the whole assembly aside and grabbed the first set his fingers landed upon, hitting the lock symbol and hearing a faint beep beep from nearby.
“Good enough,” he said quietly, standing and slipping the car key into his pocket before checking the doorknob to the motor pool exit. The door was unlocked and swung toward him. He shook his head as the supply orderly within him silently scolded the soldier who left the bunker unsecured. A few moves had the boxes he collected stacked onto one of the bellman’s carts outside the bunker. He thought for a moment before grabbing the pickaxe and placing it on top of the boxes.
The atmosphere outside gave him pause. It felt like the air had changed in the brief minutes he had spent inside the bunker. It was quiet and the sun had begun to cast long shadows across the parking lot. He listened for anything to indicate the post was still alive and heard nothing.
Chapter 9
- Evil
Evil
Jesse Diego sat alone outside as the sun set, casting him further into darkness. He bent his legs up and leaned his chin on his forearms as they rested across his knees. He was operating on virtually no sleep but his mind raced. He felt fear for his wife and overwhelmed by grief and hate for those who took her. He had to find her. Had to kill her kidnappers. Jesse hadn’t wanted to be near anybody after receiving the news from Reverend Green and the Burned Woman. She hadn’t said a word after declaring she knew who the kidnappers were, and the reverend had sent Jesse away citing stress and exhaustion for the injured woman. He shooed the grieving husband out the door and slid it shut with a boom.
Jesse had wandered in a daze, catching his breath in the fresh air outside the building and absentmindedly unlocking and exiting from the iron gate. He stumbled around the corner and down the block until he was able to see Mel’s building, the abandoned church where they stored the group’s weapons and fuel. He sat heavily on one of the parking lot islands in between the two spaces, sobbing into his hands in the shadow of the church’s steeple.
It was hours later now, and Jesse had sat alone and uncomfortable in the heat of the day. He suffered and daydreamed how he could track and find where they took her. In his mind’s eye he saw himself kick in a door and shoot faceless men over and over again. No matter what, though, they came back as mindless creatures grabbing and biting him. He saw over and over again his own appalling death as he tried to push aside the awful daydreams for ideas on how to find Mel.
Muffled footsteps echoed and forced Jesse out of his nightmare. He shifted and turned his body, looking toward the sound with bloodshot eyes. A few dark figures of various size strode confidently in his direction. He recognized his team, rifles slung and silhouetted over each of their shoulders. Deb led the group with Ty almost side-by-side. Ice sauntered behind and Wiggs and his brother Ricky towered over the rear. Jesse scrambled to his feet and brushed dirt off his hands as the patrol stopped nearby. They quietly filled into the shadows, sound of cicadas buzzing loudly over the soft movements the squad made.
Deb came forward and embraced Jesse. He left his hands loose at his side, but didn’t stop her from squeezing him tightly. She tucked her head into his shoulder as he watched the remainder of them. Ty and Ice both looked uncomfortable, not making eye contact, but stoic. Wiggs placed his hands on his brother’s shoulders as Ricky’s gaze dropped to the ground. He looked like he was crying and he gripped and pulled at his left arm obsessively, scratching his own skin. Deb pulled back and Jesse noticed her glassy, red eyes.
“Pat died,” she said. “Oh, god--” She choked on her words and sobbed softly into her hands. The six stood together with only the sounds of Ricky and Deb’s mourning in the abandoned parking lot. Dusk had settled in the minutes since their arrival and Jesse could feel the heat radiating from the asphalt through his boots. Ice took a step and held out a liter bottle of water. Jesse accepted it and greedily drank the lukewarm liquid.
“They left these,” Ice said. She removed a folded piece of green paper from her cargo pants and presented it to Jesse. He nodded.
“I know, the reverend showed me. Does anybody know what it means?” The small group was silent. “Maybe ‘neighbors’ means they are near here. It sounds like neo-Nazi shit.” He spit and guzzled from the water bottle again. When finished, he crumpled the bottle and dropped it on the ground.
“We have to look for them,” Deb said. “We have to find Mel. We have to.”
“We don’t know the first place to look,” Jesse spat. “What’s the point if you five are killed looking for her? I can’t live with that.”
“Pat said something before she died,” Ty said. “I don’t know what it meant. It sounded like is-toddy-o.”
“She had a head injury, you don’t know what she was saying,” Ice retorted.
“Bitch, she said is-toddy-o. I know what I heard but I don’t speak Spanish. Maybe mister fuckin’ Diego knows what it meant, shit. She said Alamo is-toddy-o a bunch of times.”
“Enough!” Jesse snapped. “I don’t need you fighting with each other. The reverend told me not to do anything, to stay put.” Wiggs stepped forward.
“We’re with you, man. We gotta go find these people. There’s no time to waste.”
A chorus of nods and agreements followed. Jesse knew they would listen to him if he said to go, regardless of Reverend Green’s order as he sent Jesse away from the Burned Woman’s chambers. He looked at each in turn. They watched him, confident in his leadership and ready to get into a fight to help him find his wife. It was more than losing a member of their community. To them, it was hurting one of their own.
“She, um, she spoke to me,” he said to the squad, stunned by the news. Nobody had ever heard
the Burned Woman speak outside of Reverend Green. Deb, Mel, and Jesse had been with the reverend when they first found the woman months ago.
***
It was cold and wet with a miserable, misty rain, and had been for a long time. The small group of survivors were huddled in an old brick building on the east side of town, shivering against the cold in the bare shelter. The building had been abandoned years ago and all the windows and doors had long been broken away. The small group avoided the damp mattresses that were in the concrete-lined room and sat together on their mostly-empty packs. They were short on food and only Jesse had anything resembling a weapon, a long handled screwdriver he had looted from the back of an SUV on the nearby highway. He stood watch by leaning on a windowframe and looking into the misty darkness while the reverend prayed with the rest.
A figure became visible in the mist. Its unclear features were framed in gray darkness so Jesse couldn’t tell if it was living or dead. Stringy hair stuck out from all directions as it staggered forward. It came from the direction of a perpendicular neighborhood street and walked directly toward their abandoned space. He gave a low shush to the group and gripped the heavy tool in his hand. The figure misstepped and stumbled forward onto its knees. When it stood, Jesse could see the creature’s jawbone hung loose from one side. It swung back and forth like a pendulum as the former human stood and continued stepping toward their building. It dragged its toes over the curb and walked directly into the low fence that surrounded them. Jesse could now see the horrid details of the facial injury and the black-stained sweatshirt the creature still wore. The sweater sopped up rain and hung loose on the body as the chainlink jangled.
Nation Undead (Book 2): Collusion Page 7