The Dying of the Light (Book 1): End

by Jason Kristopher

  “What the hell is going on, Frank? That’s my wife!”

  Anderson shook his head slightly, catching Frank’s eye. A subtle shift of the head and a slight nod toward the ceiling, and George stiffened, then relaxed somewhat and winked as he sat back with his cup of coffee.

  “We’ll deal with this through channels, George. Just like we always have. There’s a reason for procedures; we’ll follow them and everything will work out fine, I’m certain.” Frank looked at the colonel over his cup. “Now, what else is changing? Certainly that’s not all…”

  George sighed. “No, not by a long shot. We’re getting our other six teams.”

  “This early, sir?”

  “Yep. We’re going to wind up a short battalion a lot faster than I thought. Apparently, higher has decided that losing as many as we’re going to is enough reason to give us more meat.”

  “That’s what they’ll be, too, sir. Fresh meat.”

  “I know, commander, I know.”

  Cheyenne, Wyoming

  Jason Horner walked across the parking lot of the upscale apartment complex. He realized he was whistling as he trotted up the stairs, and stopped as he knocked on the door to 406. Wouldn’t want to appear too eager after all, he thought. When there was no response, he looked back down at the parking lot and verified that her car was nearby. She was home, but not answering. Maybe it’s a surprise.

  Grinning, he took the key she’d finally given him and opened the door, closing it quickly behind him. The apartment was a mess, but that wasn’t particularly unusual. Doris hadn’t exactly been Martha Stewart, and after the second time he’d brought it up and she’d threatened to break off their arrangement, he’d stopped trying. She was too good in bed to pass up for some trash and a few dirty clothes. Okay, a lot of trash and dirty clothes. Didn’t the woman ever do laundry?

  “Honey, I’m home!” he said, throwing his jacket on the couch and moving toward the small kitchen. Empty. As was the bedroom and bathroom. There weren’t too many places to hide in a small one-bedroom like this; she wasn’t here.

  It’s not like it’s the first time she’s stood you up. He sighed and sat down to wait, taking out his phone and looking at her text message. ASAP, my ass. I’m not waiting all night. Not again.

  Laramie, Wyoming

  “No, no, that’s fine, Shelly. Get him prepped for surgery and I’ll be up after consulting with Dr. Horne. Five minutes, I promise.” His nurse nodded and went back into the patient’s room as Martin glanced up the hallway at some commotion. Someone strapped to a gurney, obviously resisting treatment. Looks like they need a hand. He checked his watch and moved towards the altercation.

  Three nurses were attempting to hold down the hysterical woman’s arms and legs as a fourth wheeled her into Exam Room Three. “What’ve we got?” he asked, clamping a hand down on the woman’s left leg, earning a grateful look from one of the nurses, who then finished attaching the restraints as they moved the woman onto the exam room bed.

  “She’s going crazy, doctor. She came in saying her husband bit her, and then just started twitching and yelling.”

  Martin jerked back as if her leg had stung him. “Bitten?” He’d seen the advisory and realized what it could mean. “Where is she from?”

  The head nurse looked at him. “Saratoga, Doctor. They sent her here, since Rawlins was out of commission.” The other nurses had restrained the struggling woman by this point. One held a needle, about to start an IV when Martin grabbed her arm.

  “Don’t. I want everyone out of this room now. Code Orange.”

  The nurses looked at each for a moment, then burst from the room, dropping whatever they held as they ran for the nearest decontamination showers. Martin followed, locking the exam room door. He approached the nurses’ station, and without a word, ripped the health advisory off the bulletin board and dialed the number printed. Hopefully we caught it in time, he thought.

  Steamboat Springs, Colorado

  Rachel massaged her fiancé’s shoulders; she was working out the tension she could feel even now, nearly a week after Rawlins had become a memory. Dalton didn’t seem to know she was there, engrossed in the view from the hotel window at the snow-covered peaks of the Rockies. Winter was one of her favorite times in the mountains, and Steamboat Springs was perfect for a weeklong getaway that was just close enough to the base if they were recalled.

  Plus, the skiing here is awesome, she thought as she finished her massage and sat next to him, putting her head on his shoulder. Absent-mindedly, he took one of her hands in his.

  Suddenly, he turned to her. “Sure wish we could stay here forever.”

  “I know, D. Me too.”

  “Then let’s do it. Let’s not go back. They can take care of this thing without us. We’ll go hide somewhere; find a hole and pull it in after us, ya know?”

  Rachel smiled and ran a hand across the big man’s cheek, noticing that his brow furrowed with concern for her. She was still amazed that two people as different as they had found each other.

  If only we could, love. If only.

  “You know we can’t do that, Dalton. You know neither Martinez or Reynolds can hit the broad side of a barn with a .50 cal, and with Blake and Barnes too wrapped up in each other to pay any attention, the rest of the team is a goner.” She smiled again, and kissed his hand. “We’ll get through this.”

  He smiled back and leaned down to kiss her. Just as things were beginning to get more interesting, both of their AEGIS-issue cellphones began ringing and vibrating, rattling the cheap wooden table under the hotel room’s large window.

  “Eaton here.” Rachel said, just as Dalton began a similar conversation from steps away. “Yes, sir, right away, sir.”

  They looked at each other as they hung up the phones, and Rachel scowled, a fierce look in her eye as she took his hands in hers.

  “You are going to marry me, Dalton Horatio Gaines, and no fucking walker is going to stop that. Clear?”

  Dalton just smiled.

  Fort Carson, Colorado

  The dining hall was packed, full of every AEGIS soldier currently on the base, and more were trickling in as they arrived following the recall. Anderson was checking them off one by one as they entered, and Maxwell was in the middle of a short hurried conference with the other team leaders to one side of the impromptu podium. As I entered and Anderson checked my name off the list, I noticed Gardner standing to one side behind the podium. He smiled at me. I scowled and moved to take a seat with the rest of my team.

  A few moments later, the doors boomed close, Anderson gave Maxwell a thumbs-up, and the four team leaders took their seats next to their XO’s at the provided tables. Maxwell motioned to one of the soldiers standing near a portable projector, and another turned off the lights as some sort of futuristic-looking rifle appeared on the screen.

  “Gentlemen and ladies, this is the X-29 rifle, the newest weapon in the AEGIS arsenal. Based on the proven technology of the Taser and the stun gun, this rifle fires a round similar to the Taser, in that it has two electrodes. In the original models developed by Taser and the DOD, the small battery/capacitor setup in each round delivered a charge that is similar to the one in a Taser or stun gun, around 50,000 volts at less than 1 amp. The X-29 was developed specifically for AEGIS, and the rounds are somewhat more powerful,” he said, pausing to emphasize his point.

  “Each round from the X-29 delivers a charge of 200,000 volts at 5 amps. One shot from one of these rifles will kill any living human instantly. Fried to a crisp. Zombies, on the other hand, will be a twitching, spasming wreck for at least twenty to thirty minutes, if the charge doesn’t burn out what nervous system might remain. Hopefully that’ll be long enough for you to use these.”

  Another image appeared on screen. It appeared for all the world to be an iron mask, similar in form, if not function, to Alexandre Dumas’ classic fictional construct.

  He can’t be serious, I thought. We’re actually going to capture them? I noticed G
ardner at the side of the room carefully studying our reactions. No, it’s not Maxwell. It’s that asshole Gardner that’s done this.

  “These masks are made of high-strength aluminum, and are very light. Each squad will be equipped with four of these, along with similar wrist-cuffs and chains.” A muttering grew in the hall, and Maxwell turned back to the crowd. “You’ve probably all guessed by now, but we now have orders to capture — not kill — as many walkers as we can in our next few operations.”

  The muttering became a riot. Soldiers from every team were on their feet, shouting and angry, while their team leaders were trying and failing to keep them under control. Maxwell and Anderson had each taken to shouting as well, their orders flying unheeded. The soldiers were having none of it, of course, and the situation was only going to get worse. They’d all been in action, and all of us had seen what happened when someone got bit, courtesy of Tremaine. Not to mention Chauncey.

  The first few rounds went almost unnoticed in the noise and confusion, but by the sixth or seventh crack of my pistol, I had gotten everyone’s attention. More than a few pistols were pointed my way, and I lowered the gun slowly so as not to get anyone excited, or get myself shot in the process.

  “Blake! Just what in the hell do you think you’re doing?” shouted Maxwell from the podium, where he had taken cover.

  “Getting their attention, sir,” I replied, holstering my pistol, allowing the remainder of my fellow soldiers to holster theirs. “I thought it was the fastest way.” I glanced upward. “Going to need some new ceiling tiles, though.”

  Maxwell looked at me like I’d lost my mind, and then shook his head. “Some days you make me wish I’d never gotten out of bed. Or at the very least never brought you in to AEGIS.”

  I smiled. “I know, sir.” My smile faltered as I caught Gardner nodding at me from his shadowy perch at the side of the room. Bastard. One day, Gardner. One day.

  “Alright, back to your seats everyone.” We took our seats once more, and although it wasn’t at the level it was, the muttering remained. “Knock that shit off, right now!” Maxwell yelled, pounding his fist on the podium. “You all know our primary mission; to find a cure or vaccine for the virus. Well, our science teams can’t do that without specimens to test their work on.”

  He took a deep breath. “We are all soldiers, we have our orders, and we will do our jobs. Is that clear?” It seemed as though no one wanted to be the first to acknowledge the suicidal nature of the orders. I was as surprised as any to hear the voice from beside me call out loud and strong.

  “Clear, sir!” Kim said.

  “Well, I see I still have one soldier, anyway. Anyone else?” This time the walls shook with the response. We might be grunts, and suicidal grunts at that, but by god, we were going to do our jobs.

  Even if it killed us.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Laramie, Wyoming

  “So this is Laramie, huh?” shouted Greer, looking out over the sprawling city of nearly thirty thousand. The Strykers were being unloaded from the C-17s behind us, the roar of the many huge engines overpowering normal conversation.

  Hell, I can’t even hear the Strykers engines over that big-ass plane, I thought. That alone means I should be wearing earplugs.

  I looked over at Greer and pointed into the distance. “See the stadium?”

  “Yeah, what is that?”

  “University of Wyoming. You’re looking at the third largest city in the state.”

  “No way. That little town is the third largest?”

  “It’s a nice place, Greer. I’ve been here several times, back when…” I saw Kimberly walking towards us. “A long time ago, anyway. Too bad; I liked this town.”

  Kim raised an eyebrow at me and jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “Mount up, boys.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said, and Greer and I headed for our respective Strykers. I noticed the ICVs from 3rd Team forming up alongside our own. I thought about Second team, with most of their men still in training after their pasting in Wyoming, and hoped they’d rejoin us soon. Still, if four Strykers and 30 or so highly-trained soldiers couldn’t handle this small outbreak, we’d better kiss our collective asses goodbye right now.

  I climbed into the vehicle and did a double-take. “Good to see you again, sir,” I said, saluting Captain Graves in his command chair.

  “You too, Mr. Blake. I hope we have better luck this time.”

  “Me, too, sir. Me, too.” I glanced back at the rear hatch as Kim and Commander Anderson climbed in. “Sir, ma’am, I have a suggestion. I don’t think we should go in with the Strykers, at least not at first.”

  “Oh?” Anderson asked. “Why not?”

  “For one, four of these things rolling down the small streets here will probably scare the bejeezus out of everyone, sir. Could even start a panic. And that’s the last thing we need, especially with those media folks already at the hospital. And so soon after Rawlins, sir? Not a good idea.”

  “Good point. Anything else?”

  “How many walkers are we dealing with, sir? The colonel’s briefing indicated that there was just the one patient, sir. We shouldn’t need more than a couple squads to deal with that. Certainly not two full teams, sir. At least not until the infection spreads, if it even does. It’s good to have 3rd Team here, just in case, but I don’t think we need them just yet.”

  Anderson glanced over at Kim, one eyebrow raised. She shrugged and he chuckled, turning back to me. “The infection always spreads, Blake, and this town has just under thirty-thousand people. We’ve got the others here just in case, as you said. You seem to have thought this out, though. How would you handle it?”

  “Sir, I would take a minimal force, in civilian cars but staying in uniform. Make it appear a serious situation but not serious enough to bring in armored trucks or machine guns. We can even test out some of those new X-29s, sir.” I gritted my teeth but continued. Damn you, Gardner. “Those should help a lot in us capturing the walkers, and it would be good to see how they work in the field, sir.”

  Kim and Anderson both looked surprised. “I didn’t think you approved of our new directive, Mr. Blake,” said Frank, looking at me cryptically.

  “Let’s just say that I’ve had a chance to go over some of the background on the weapons and gear, sir, and I believe this is our best course of action for now.”

  Kim narrowed her eyes at me, but didn’t say anything. I had the feeling she was going to be asking me some questions later that I couldn’t answer.

  I wish I could. God, how I wish I could.

  Frank looked at the monitors, then across the tarmac to the line of Strykers. “Very well. Go conscript us a few rental cars — but only enough for your Alpha and Bravo squads. We’ll load up and head in. Hopefully we won’t scare anybody off.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Ten minutes later we were on our way to Ivinson Memorial Hospital; a train of four white Ford Fusions snaking through the town. Kim drove the lead car, with Eaton calling directions from the rear. The men simply held on, knuckles white on their respective oh-shit handles as Kim took corners like Mario Andretti on crack.

  I thought for sure we’d take out at least one or two pedestrians as we crossed the police barricades, Anderson holding up his completely genuine, if meaningless, USAMRIID badge. Somehow, we managed to avoid even the press, and careened to a stop outside the main hospital entrance. I fought the urge to kneel down and kiss the ground in relief as I got out of the car, and noticed Anderson and Gaines seemed a bit green around the gills as well.

  “Next time, I’m driving,” I muttered, and saw a flash of a grin from Kim. I had no doubt she’d done it on purpose. She’s probably mad at me for supporting Gardner’s pet projects.

  Two men approached; one I took to be the Chief of Police from his uniform, the other a doctor, possibly the hospital administrator.

  “Commander Anderson?” the chief asked, looking at Frank, who nodded and shook the man’s outstretched hand. �
�Chief Palmer, Laramie Police. This is Doctor Drake, hospital administrator.”

  “What’s the situation, gentlemen?”

  The older doctor answered first. “From what Martin said, there was just the one patient. Apparently she was bitten by her husband, and she came here since the hospital in Rawlins was closed. But I guess you fellas probably already know about that.”

  Commander Anderson nodded. “Yes, we’re aware of that. You say her husband bit her?”

  “That’s what one of the nurses said when Dr. Underwood asked her. We don’t know what happened to the husband; chances are he’s still at their house. Underwood says that no one did anything to her but apply restraints before he realized what was going on and called the number on the health advisory from Rawlins.” The man swallowed, very nervous. “He ordered the Code Orange immediately and put everyone who’d touched the woman through decontamination showers. Twice.”