Gardner? Pissed? Surely not. Not stoneface.
“Shhh, there, there,” Gardner said. “No need to worry. Let’s take a walk, and we can discuss it. Just give me a second here.”
The taller man leaned over his desk, checking the guard’s duty roster lying next to his computer. Perfect. I don’t know how this little shit is piecing this stuff together, but we can’t have that, now can we, Hank, old buddy?
No, we can’t.
“So you can see…” Gardner said, pausing. “I’m sorry, your name again?”
“Williams, sir.”
“So you can see, Williams, that everything will be just fine. I’ll take care of any lingering issues, and we’ll get this addressed as soon as we can.”
As they walked down the hallway, his arm around the young technician’s shoulders in a friendly, if unnerving, gesture, Gardner noticed the door at the end, and the guard leaving his post a bit early. Just as I’d hoped. Incompetence, just when I need it.
“Anyway, Williams… can I call you Brett? Anyway, Brett, I’m sure you’ll see this was all just a misunderstanding. One second, please.” He palmed open the security lock for the door, blocking Brett’s view into the room as it opened. “At least, that’s what I’ll tell everyone.”
He stepped to the side and shoved the technician through the door, palming the lock again just as the screams began, only to be cut off by the heavy soundproofing as the door closed once more.
Last damn time he’ll argue with me, he thought, nodding to the replacement guard just walking up to take his post.
“Evening, sir. Colonel Maxwell wanted me to give you this, sir.” The guard extended a folded message.
“Very well,” Gardner said, taking the paper and placing it in his coat pocket. As Gardner turned to walk away, the guard spoke again. “Sir, he seemed rather… insistent. Said it was urgent, sir.”
Gardner sighed. “I see. Thank you.” He opened the message as he began walking back to his office. Paperwork? Now? What the hell is he thinking?
He stopped at a nearby desk and picked up the phone, dialing the colonel’s extension from memory. “Listen, George, I’m afraid I can’t… No, I don’t… There’s an urgent… Look, you can’t talk to me… I see. Well, that’s that then. I’m on my way.”
Gardner glanced up at the camera facing the door he’d just come from, the one marked “DANGER: Test Subject Pen.” It’s not like anyone knows, he thought. I can always erase the footage later. He strode off toward the colonel’s office.
As he sat back down at his desk an hour later, Gardner tensed as he looked at his desk. Something isn’t right… something’s been moved…
In a panic, he accessed the security logs from the surveillance system. Nothing. The file’s still there, and hasn’t been tampered with. He relaxed — for Gardner — and proceeded to erase several files at random intervals from the camera outside the test pen, including the one from earlier that evening. Then he pressed the intercom on his phone.
“Sam, come in here, would you?”
The skinny youth came into the office, and, at Gardner’s urging, sat down at one of the chairs in front of the desk. Gardner studied him in silence for a moment.
“Sam, can you tell me the status of the repair order on the security camera outside the Test Pen?”
“Sir?” said Lansford, confused. “What repair order, sir?”
“The one I asked you to issue three months ago, Mr. Lansford. I’ve just been through the files on the surveillance system, and there are many files missing or corrupted. That’s an important camera, Sam. We need to make sure it gets fixed immediately. Make this a priority.”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s all. You can go.”
“Yes, sir.” Sam stood and left Gardner’s office, fuming the whole way and hiding it like the expert he had to be. He’s up to something, and it’s not going to be good for anyone involved. I’d better tell the colonel.
As it turned out, the colonel already knew.
“Did you get it?” Maxwell’s voice echoed in a darkened corridor on the other side of the base.
“Yes, sir. It’s all there, sir. The whole file, on that flash drive.”
“Good man. I wasn’t sure we could pull this off that quickly.”
“Me, either, sir. How’d you do it?”
Maxwell grinned as he looked at the guard who had by pure coincidence left his post a bit early that evening. “The bane of servicemen everywhere, lieutenant. Paperwork.”
The guard laughed. “Imagine that asshole brought down by something like paperwork. That is fitting, sir.”
“I agree, lieutenant. Dismissed.”
Chapter Twenty
“Hello, and welcome to HealthWatch. I’m Tabitha Greene.” With dark circles under her eyes and her hair in disarray, Tabby had obviously seen better days. Be careful what you wish for, she thought. You just might get it. I wanted more exposure, but this…
“The ‘new flu’ has now claimed several hundred lives here in the United States, with more than hundreds more infected. The mortality rate is unusually high, and the Centers for Disease Control remind everyone to take extreme care when dealing with anyone who is or may have become infected. We will now be displaying the number you see on the bottom of your screen 24 hours a day for reports of outbreaks of this illness.” Tabitha paused for a moment, consulting her notes as footage from various cities around the country was shown, with many people wearing masks.
“Worldwide cases have also increased, with Southeast Asia being hardest hit. The Cambodian government reports that its quarantine of the small city of Phumi Rôménh has been successful thus far, though casualties from the incident are high, with even more expected in the next few days. The governments of Thailand, Vietnam and Laos have all expressed concern over the outbreaks in their respective regions, and all are currently in a declared state of emergency. Tensions are also high with neighboring China and Myanmar, which have officially closed their borders in an attempt to maintain their isolation from the spread of this illness.
“One piece of good news is that the CDC and USAMRIID — the Army version of the CDC — have reached an agreement to work together to provide assistance to those whose family members may have been exposed. There are multiple patient-care facilities being set up around the country to help with the massive influx of this highly-contagious disease. The list of these facilities is now available on the CDC’s website as well as on our own site.
“Again, we must stress that anyone infected or believed to be infected by the ‘new flu’ should seek immediate treatment at one of these patient-care facilities. If they are unable to be moved or are otherwise incapacitated, please call the 800-number to arrange for help. Remember: immediate isolation is the best way to keep you and your loved ones safe from an infected person.
“This has been a HealthWatch Special Report. I’m Tabitha Greene.”
“What progress have you made, Stevens?”
“We have several crates of samples ready for transport, Mr. Gardner. And we should have several more soon, given the rate of infection we’re seeing.”
Gardner smiled, and Stevens fought the urge to react on camera. Gardner made him nauseous, and he wasn’t thrilled about having a face-to-face via webcam with the man.
“Good,” Gardner said. “I wouldn’t have thought that Lincoln, Nebraska, of all places, would be such a hotspot.”
“It’s not. It’s just that this is the only place within a couple hundred miles that some of these folks can go. Plus, this is where the National Guard is bringing all the others from the region.”
“The ones that can’t or won’t drive in?”
“Exactly.”
“I see. Well, this still bodes well for our research efforts. Any security violations?”
Not that I’m going to tell you about, thought Stevens. “Nope. Everything’s locked down tight as a drum here. Per your orders, we’ve exhumed some local bodies and cremated them to prov
ide ashes for family members who are particularly obstinate. Most of the others seem to accept that their relatives or friends are too infectious to see.”
“Sheep will do that, Mr. Stevens. Give them a plausible reason — even one that’s only slightly plausible — and they’ll fill in the details themselves. It’s really quite convenient.” Gardner tapped a finger on the desk as he thought. “Have all the samples you’ve collected thus far — including the blood — flown out immediately, Stevens. I have an urgent need for them.”
“I’ll have them on the plane today.”
“Good, good.” Gardner signed off, and Stevens walked outside as if to clear his head. He looked around for observers and then moved off into an alley nearby, pulling the sat-phone from his pocket and dialing a number from memory. It rang once and was picked up.
“Secure.”
“Sir, another transport at 1500hrs local.”
“Quantity?”
“Four, sir. Sir?”
“Yes?”
“What’s our timetable?”
“Soon, specialist. Soon. Hang tight there, son. We’re almost ready.”
“Very well, sir. Out here.”
Stevens put the phone back in his pocket and went back into the tent, hoping that Maxwell knew what he was doing. It’s a dangerous game, playing with someone like Gardner, he thought. Then again, the general has been playing for just as long. Let’s just hope we come out on top.
“Who are these guys?” asked Porter, one of the soldiers of the freshly–minted 7th Team. He nodded toward the observation room off to one side of the room, where a small group of technicians stood talking. A thick black curtain screened part of the room from the rest of them, where the twelve soldiers were sitting in rows.
“Just some lab geeks, probably here to analyze our reactions or something. I’ve heard this can get pretty wild,” said another; his uniform read MASTERS.
“Whatever. It’s just some ‘monster’ behind some bulletproof glass.”
“Really? Then riddle me this, genius. Do you see any other glass in here?”
The soldier’s eyes widened slightly as he realized the import of his compatriot’s words. “Surely not…” he said, but was interrupted as a dull clinking sound emerged from behind the thick curtain. A low moan followed, and the noise in the room from talking soldiers vanished as if a switch had been thrown.
None of the soldiers saw the technicians in the observation room watching them as one pushed a button, and the curtain slid aside. None of the soldiers had seen active duty against walkers, but they were all experienced veterans of some of the finest units the world has ever known.
None of it mattered now, though.
The walker came lurching forward, only restrained by the chains around its neck, wrists and waist. As one man, the soldiers flinched back, several covering their noses and mouths as the stench of rotting flesh overpowered them.
“Holy shit!” yelled Porter. “Fuck me, fuck me! What the fuck!” Some of the soldiers had abandoned their chairs and backed away from the walker, only coming to grips with what they were seeing as they realized that it was chained to the wall.
One brave soul among them moved forward, staying just out of reach of the creature, his curiosity getting the better of him. He could still see the remnants of the suit the man had been wearing. Some sort of businessman, he thought. I wonder what the hell he was doing when…
“Look out!” Masters came rocketing in from the side, knocking the other soldier off his feet just as the walker took another swipe… one which would have connected if he’d been there. It was only then that some of them noticed what Masters had already seen: the concrete on the wall that secured its anchor chain, which held all of the rest of the chains, was crumbling and failing.
With yet another moan, the walker pulled the ring out of the wall and fell upon the nearest soldier, who raised his arm to ward off his attacker. It grabbed the arm and bit into the meaty banquet it had been provided. The soldier screamed and fell back, wrenching his arm from the walker’s grip.
The rest were trying the door, only to find that it was locked. Several banged on the windows of the observation room, where the technicians were frozen in fear, one of them in a bundle on the floor, rocking back and forth and crying. Two of the more enterprising veterans attempted to use the chairs as improvised weapons, but found that they were bolted to the floor.
“For fuck’s sake, people…” yelled Masters, and dived behind the walker, rolling and coming up in a crouch. Grimacing as he caught hold of the creature’s legs, he pulled hard, and there was sickening crunch as its head hit the concrete floor. It wasn’t out of the fight, though, and it struggled to free itself as Masters stood up, still holding its feet. Masters swung it around hard, not letting go as its head impacted the observation room window, splattering gore across the glass and the wall beside it.
The technicians inside flinched back and one finally snapped out of it and hit the base alarm. Masters made sure the walker had stopped twitching before glaring at the technicians through the glass. As he turned back to the room, he saw two men — one of them the luckless Porter — administering first-aid to the wounded soldier. Suddenly, the wounded man moaned and began to sit up, with the other two helping him.
“Stop! Get out of there, before…” Masters shouted, but he was too late. The wounded man had turned, and began biting and clawing at Porter, whose reflexes weren’t nearly fast enough to avoid the attack.
“Son of a bitch!” Masters yelled. “Haven’t any of you ever seen a damn zombie movie?” He shoved the uninjured paramedic wannabe away and dragged the walker away from the others, toward the front of the room, where he kicked it in the head until it stopped moving.
There was a crash from the door, and Masters saw what he thought was Echo team — the first to respond to the scene — come through the doorway. Major James assessed the situation, and, without pausing, put two rounds into Porter. The man didn’t even have time to register what was happening before he was gone.
Probably better that way, Masters thought.
James nodded to Santos, who took care of the one Masters had kicked into oblivion.
“Anyone else bit?” asked James. When there was no response, he grunted. “Fine. Do a splatter check. I have some business to take care of.” The remainder of 7th Team began checking themselves and each other for infectious blood as James stepped up to the observation room window and looked at the technicians inside.
Masters took one look at the major’s face, and decided that being somewhere else — anywhere else — was a good idea. Suiting action to thought, he got the rest of his team out of there. They made a ridiculous parade down the hallways: some of them were clad only in their underwear, having removed their contaminated clothing, and some of them weren’t even in that much.
James finished memorizing the technician’s faces, and turned back to his team. “Alright, show’s over. Get the clean-up crew in here.”
“Already on the way, sir,” said Santos. “I called them as soon as we arrived.”
“Good.” He eyed the remains of the original zombie, noting the force with which it must have impacted the window. That Masters is one formidable, stone-cold son-of-a-bitch, he thought. The general is gonna want to meet him.
“Final numbers?”
“Two dead, not including the original walker.”
“Damn him. Damn that man straight to Hell,” said Maxwell.
“Yes, sir. I’d say he’s seen to that himself, sir,” replied Anderson, sitting across the desk from the general.
“Do we know how this happened, yet?”
“Best guess at this time is shoddy construction work, sir. The anchor ring apparently just came out of the wall. I’m looking into it. As for the rest, it appears Masters took the initiative and kicked some serious ass.”
“Okay, so we’ve got shoddy construction in an acclimatization room built to Gardner’s order, almost a whole team shitting their pan
ts, and two recruits of a brand-new team dead.”
“Essentially, sir. That’s it in a nutshell. Except…”
“Except what?”
“These boys turned in seconds, sir. Not even minutes. I think it was a setup. I think Gardner was running an experiment, and meant for them to be attacked.”
Maxwell looked up, and Anderson couldn’t help but swallow hard. I do not want to be Gardner right now, he thought. I’ve never seen that look before. God willing, I never will again.
The Dying of the Light (Book 1): End Page 31