The Dying of the Light (Book 1): End

by Jason Kristopher

  Just as the walker formerly known as Tremaine crashed into the glass again, right in front of the hapless government official.

  “Wow,” I said, checking Gardner’s pulse a moment later. “I’ve never seen anyone pass out that quickly.”

  Kim massaged her temples. “Or scream that loud.”

  “He’ll be fine, sir,” I told the colonel. I took a capsule of smelling salts from the medkit mounted on the wall nearby, and broke them open under the poor man’s nose, waking him. “You’re fine, Mr. Gardner. You just had a bit of a fright.”

  Gardner stood, needlessly straightening his necktie and combing back his hair. “I…” he stammered, then took a deep breath and continued. “I wasn’t expecting that. You might have warned me, colonel.”

  Maxwell gave him a look of studied innocence. “Oops.”

  I studiously ignored Kimberly, knowing if I even glanced her way we’d both be laughing for quite some time over that.

  The walker was still clattering against the glass in its attempt to get to us, and once he’d composed himself, Gardner moved forward to study it.

  “Yes, yes, I think this will do just fine. Assuming the proper precautions are taken, I believe we can study this specimen quite successfully. This is a great day, gentlemen. We’ve rarely had such an opportunity. Especially with such a fresh specimen! This is truly a cause for excitement.” He turned back to us, his eagerness to get started plain.

  I slowly turned to look at Maxwell. “Sir?” I said, my voice strained. Kim looked as though she was about to chew through her lip to keep from saying something.

  “I’ll handle this,” he said, his voice cold and remote, as it had been when ordering Major Carver’s relief. He strode over to Gardner, stopping an inch or so away from the grey man, who, being backed up against the glass had nowhere to go. The walker became frantic trying to reach him, and Gardner turned almost as grey as his suit.

  “Mister Gardner, that creature in there was once a decorated soldier of these United States. He and nine other men and women gave their lives today, defending their people and their country, and you will respect their sacrifice,” he said, his iron gaze wilting the government man where he stood. “Because the next time I hear you even begin to disrespect one of our fighting men or women in any way, shape or form, I will personally feed you to Tremaine here, a piece at a time. Clear?”

  Scylla and Charybdis, indeed.

  Gardner nodded mutely, and Maxwell moved back. “Very well,” he said. Pushing another button on the table, he spoke into a small speaker. “Mary, you can come in now.”

  Dr. Adamsdóttir entered the room and I listened as Mary talked with the colonel and Gardner.

  “Well, we’ve gotten more out of Mr. Tremaine than from other walkers, as we had his baseline genetic code already from earlier blood tests and other samples. Now we have what remains in the veins of the cadaver, as well as behavioral observations, etc.” She paused, thoughtful. “I’m not sure what we’ll get out of that last, though. We have complete studies of adult turned subjects from prior specimens, and none of them are different from any of the others. I mean, it’s not like we can train them to do even menial tasks. Really, once the biological samples have been obtained, I’d recommend destroying the specimen to prevent potential accidents or other issues, such as what happened with Chauncey.”

  Everyone in the room — even Gardner — winced at that memory.

  “Agreed,” said Maxwell. “Let me know when you’ve retrieved all you can from Tremaine, then I’ll take care of it from there.”

  “Colonel, surely you can see the value in retaining a specimen such as this!” said a startled Gardner. “Beyond the purely physical aspects such as DNA, think of the potential for other uses. Despite Dr. Adamsdóttir’s clearly biased opinion, several specialists believe that they can be trained to do menial work, and then there’s the bio-weapons potential…”

  Gardner broke off as he caught the look in Maxwell’s eye. “This specimen is to be destroyed immediately once Dr. Adamsdóttir is finished collecting samples. Is that clear, Mr. Gardner?” said the colonel.

  “Colonel Maxwell, may I remind you that despite its overly-authorized level of autonomy, AEGIS is still under the command of the Department of Defense and the Secretary, and that as his personal representative and liaison here, I retain…”

  “Shut up, Gardner,” I said, the loathing in my voice never more evident than it was right then.

  Gardner spluttered to a halt, as shocked as I’d ever seen him, which was saying something. He looked as stunned as if I’d slapped him in front of God and everybody. “How dare you speak to me like that? I’ll have you arrested! Court-martialled!”

  I leaned towards him, and although I am not the most physically intimidating of men, something in my attitude made him pause.

  “Gardner, you should know as well as anyone that Colonel Maxwell is in full command of this base, at least when it comes to security. The buck stops with him. And if he were to decide that Tremaine here is a threat to that security, then he has every right — he has the duty — to see to the walker’s destruction. He has the duty to see to the elimination of any threat to this base.

  “Besides, you can’t court-martial me. You could fire me, sure. Even have me arrested. But then you’d lose one of your most valuable sources of intel, wouldn’t you? I’m not sure if you’d get rid of me anyway, but I know that the rest of my team wouldn’t like that. Not at all. And while you might think we dislike you now, just wait till you lose them another team member.”

  I saw the light of understanding flicker in Gardner’s eyes, and the look of cold calculation that replaced it as he glanced at the others in the room and back to me. He saw that no one here was on his side. Maxwell just stared at him, looking bored.

  Creepy Gardner might be, but he wasn’t stupid. No, not by a long shot. If he wasn’t my enemy before now, though, he damned sure was now. It was amazing how little I cared about that.

  Standing up straighter and straightening his tie once more, the grey man nodded slightly, almost to himself. “Very well, colonel. I understand completely. Thank you for allowing me to view the specimen.” With that, he left the room, and Kimberly and I glanced at each other.

  I turned to the colonel. “Sir, I…”

  “Save it, Blake. I don’t trust him, either. Mary, you understand the necessity of the specimen’s destruction, don’t you?”

  She nodded. “Of course, colonel. I’ll see to it myself.”

  “Thanks very much, Mary. I did have one or two other questions for you, if you don’t mind?” he asked, motioning to the outer office. I caught a little smile pass between them as they left.

  I had to ask, but first I turned and set the glass to opaque once more. “There’s only so many zombies I can take in one day,” I said when Kim looked at me curiously. “By the way, did you get the impression that there’s something going on between those two?”

  “Who, the colonel and the doc?” she asked.

  “No, Gardner and the walker. Of course the colonel and the doc.”

  “Well, I should hope so. They’ve only been dating for six months.” She laughed at my dropped jaw and bemused expression. “What, you didn’t know?”

  “I thought he was married…” I said.

  “He was married. Althea died almost two years ago, shortly after I began working with AEGIS. She had cancer.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I said, knowing she and her adoptive mother had been close.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “Even she didn’t know, until the end. She went quickly, without a lot of pain. It was easier on all of us than so many others I’ve seen.”

  I shook my head, amazed at the things I missed. “Maxwell and the doc; I never realized.”

  “I wouldn’t have expected you to.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Well, because you’re a man,” she said, and then started laughing as I chased her out of the room.

  Gard
ner fumed as he stalked back to his office. How dare that upstart colonel talk to me like that? Who the hell does he think he is? And Blake? I’ll have that little bastard’s head on a goddamned platter!

  “Get me the Secretary,” he said to his assistant as he stormed into the small waiting room of his office, slamming the inner door as he went.

  “Yes, sir,” said the poor private who’d been assigned to the liaison. He dialed the office of the Secretary of Defense, also keying a certain code on a small device sitting next to the phone.

  Gardner would flip out if he knew he was being recorded, the private thought. Good thing he’s a jackass and deserves it. Of course, it doesn’t hurt that those are my orders, either.

  The Secretary’s assistant answered. “Secretary Tate’s office, this is Madeline.”

  “Madeline, it’s Sam. Go secure, please.”

  There was a hum on the line, then nothing. “We’re secure now, Sam.”

  “Great. I’m calling for Mr. Gardner. Is the Secretary in?”

  The cheery voice on the other end of the line lost some of its enthusiasm. “I’ll check. When are you going to start working for someone nicer, Sam?”

  “I know, Maddy, I know. Believe me.”

  “Just a minute, kiddo.”

  Sam winced. Madeline Norville was only a bit older and liked to call him ‘kiddo’ and ‘sport’, but from what he remembered of the one government function he’d attended where they met, she had a hell of a figure and was nice to boot. Too bad she’s all the way in Washington, he sighed. “Patch him through, Sammy,” Madeline said as she came back on the line.

  “Okay.” He punched another button, and Gardner picked up. “I have the Secretary for you, sir.”

  “Well, quit your lollygagging and put him through, then!”

  “Yes, sir.” Sam transferred the call, and sat back, watching the mini-recorder’s activity light flash as the conversation continued, wishing he was somewhere else.

  “It looks like we’ve caught a break, gentlemen. There’ve been no new outbreaks for the last three weeks, so we’re cycling everyone through for some R&R. Now we can’t let everyone go at once, so we’re starting with First and Third,” Maxwell broke off as the dining hall erupted with cheers from the named teams. “Followed by Second and Fourth teams.” Good-natured grumbling was received as expected, but generally, everyone seemed to be in a good mood, despite our recent losses. With 2nd just now back up to full strength, Maxwell would probably have them training for the whole next week.

  “Those teams who are on leave will be expected to depart within twenty-four hours, and not return until one week from that time.” Maxwell put the clipboard he’d been looking at down on a table. “Let me be clear here, folks. I will not have my troops going crazy because they’ve not had enough time off. Every commander worth a damn has seen the point of R&R, and I’m not about to buck that tradition.”

  He began pacing back and forth behind the table where the team leaders and Commander Anderson sat. “Things are ramping up, overall. Attacks are happening more frequently despite the present lull, and it may be a while before we get another chance, so take advantage of this opportunity. The MPs have orders not to permit anyone on leave to return to base before one week’s time, unless countermanded by myself or Commander Anderson.

  “So take your vacation. You’ve earned it.” He smiled. “And try not to kill anyone while you’re gone, alright? Team leaders and XOs will stay behind; everyone else fall out to your barracks. Dismissed!”

  I joined the small group of soldiers at the table, and we all took seats, looking at the colonel and commander.

  “First things first: you’ve all done very well recently. Fourth team especially showed courage in Farmington, and I know that was a difficult mission. The fact that you only lost one soldier does you credit, as hard as that might be to hear.”

  The fourth team leader, a rough-looking sort named Malcolm Dagger, nodded silently.

  “Before I release those of you on leave though, I have been ordered to pass along some new information regarding future plans for this organization. I had to argue to get your names on the list, and you all know how much I hate arguing.” There was a chorus of good-natured chuckling around the table.

  “AEGIS and various civilian companies operating under strict OpSec rules have begun construction of ten massive underground bunkers throughout the US. Planning took two years, and actual construction started nearly three years ago. Frank?” The colonel motioned to the commander, who turned on the projector, showing us a map of the US.

  “Each bunker will house roughly ten thousand people, as well as all the support materials needed to survive for up to 20 years. Power, hydroponics, vehicles, seeds, everything.”

  “Only ten thousand, sir?” said Captain Greer, newly confirmed team leader for 2nd team.

  “From what I’ve been told, they could’ve fit more people in, but they wouldn’t have been able to last as long. More years equals less people. Apparently based on a number of factors — including construction time and locations — ten thousand was the best number they could work out. Bunkers like this are being constructed around the world, but even with them all stocked and fully functional we’ll only be able to guarantee the safety of less than half a percent of the total global population.”

  The stunned faces from the other teams mirrored our own from weeks before when we’re discovered the truth of everything. The loss of more than six billion people was not an easy thing to grasp, even for those of us who knew the reasons behind it.

  “So that’s it?” said Greer. “They’re gonna build these bunkers and just forget about everyone up top?”

  “They’re not going to forget about them, captain, but I want you to get one thing straight right now: Not everyone will survive. Our world is going to end, and damned quick once these things start spreading. Even AEGIS can’t catch every one of the bastards, and it only takes one to start a new outbreak in a new town hundreds of miles from the original source. We’ve already seen that happen.”

  “We’re not going to forget about them, but there’s damned little we can do for them. What I’ve been told is that once the situation is live, meaning that the public is aware and at least generally believing in what’s going on, then the various armed forces will begin specialized training for volunteers in various cities across the US. Additionally, what resources can be spared from the Corps of Engineers will be used to begin erecting pointless fortifications around some of our more important locations.”

  “Pointless, sir?”

  “Of course they’re pointless! You can’t put up a ten-foot high concrete wall around a city to keep out the zombies and then not screen everyone inside as well as those who come in or out. And I can tell you that that little procedural item is not going to go over well with everyone. Oh, some people will be okay with it, maybe even suggest it themselves. But overall? No way in hell. And just imagine what it’ll be like when we start euthanizing those who’ve already been bitten. ‘Oh, but Granpa just got a tiny bite, he’ll be okay, surely!’ Bah!”

  “The majority of the people in the cities and towns will die,” I said, not speaking to anyone in particular. “They simply cannot grasp the idea that once they are bitten, they’re already dead. If they can, their neighbors won’t. If somehow they all did, the last place they’d want to be is trapped with a bunch of other people who might or might not be sick. So they’re going to try to get out. But they won’t be able to, because of the barricades. So they’ll be stuck, pissed off and more than a little scared.

  “It’ll be a slaughterhouse. And once everyone inside is dead, it’ll be a deathtrap for anyone trying to go back in. He’s right, it’s pointless to try and defend them, especially the big cities. It only takes one bite; you all know that, some better than others.” I looked at Dagger, who sighed. Tremaine had been a friend of his.

  Maxwell evidently agreed. “That’s it exactly. We’ll help people hold out as long as
they can on the surface, but eventually every major position will be overrun. Oh, there’ll be a few survivalists and whatnot who might organize their friends and make a go of it, but they’ll be under constant siege, and eventually they’ll go, too. If not to walkers, then to ‘warlords’ or militias. The only true salvation will be those who are underground, where no one gets in without being screened, and everyone is working for a more permanent solution.”

  “Part of your duties once the shit hits the fan and we all go under will be to train some of the people from each of these bunkers to be an internal police force,” Maxwell continued. “Each of the teams will be assigned to one of the bunkers. First Team, you’ll be in the Mount Rainier location, near Seattle. It’s the closest to being completed. Others are near Taos, Philadelphia, Atlanta, Denver, Wichita, Lubbock, and elsewhere. To staff them, we’re ramping up our recruiting. We should have another six teams within six to eight months, assuming the same rates of infection we’ve been seeing.”