“Brothers and sisters, now is the time to strike! Our cousins in Maryland, so close to the root of evil in Washington, have already struck a mortal blow for our cause! The enemy is reeling, and they can see their defeat in the eyes of their conquerors! Strike now, while the iron is hot, while we have evil cornered and on the run!”
A younger man moved through the crowd, loudly joining in the slogan-chanting, and earning more than a few friendly slaps on the back for his vehemence. He continued to move closer, his eyes bright and shining with the fire of belief. As he neared the front of the crowd, one of the soldiers standing guard at the gate noticed him and moved a step closer. Then another.
“Don’t come any closer, kid. No one needs to get hurt- ”
“You cannot hurt me, unbeliever,” screamed the young man, throwing open his coat and revealing the C4 explosive and the ball bearings tightly wrapped in plastic bags. A thumb detonator was visible in one hand. “I am a servant of God, and he has chosen me to cast down you sinners and make you pay for the evils you have wrought amongst us!”
As in Maryland, the more perceptive of the crowd began to move away from the kid and his too-bright eyes. These few had a better chance of survival as the sharp-eyed soldier slung his rifle and shot the poor youngster once, in the head. As the youth crumpled to the ground, the bombs strapped to his chest began to beep, and the soldier had just enough time to realize what this meant. He turned to run as well, but only managed a few steps before being consumed in the blast.
“Rejoice, my brothers, for the end is nigh! I am the Reverend Sebastian Wright, and I say to you that the evils of this world can only be cleansed in the fire of retribution and justice. God be with all of you!”
This fireball wasn’t as big as the one outside Washington, but it was accompanied by several others, scattered around the property. Some fanatics had even managed to avoid the military patrols, and slipped inside the gates and fences, right up to the walls. Their explosions were muffled, but it doesn’t take much to knock out a building’s power, if you know what you’re looking for.
Primary and backup power units were destroyed, one by one. The soldiers could no longer hold back the swarm of people at the gates, and the Church’s followers stormed the walls and the last holdouts of the one remai ning place on the world’s surface that could have stopped the prion plague.
The best biological researchers left on the surface — the last hope for those locked out of the bunkers — were hunted down, dragged from their laboratories, beaten, raped, and tortured, then killed. The violence was all-consuming, a last shout into the void from a dying people.
Advanced bio-research laboratories were destroyed beyond repair, uncountable viruses and diseases releasing into the air or spilling across the floors of the basements and sub-basements.
The CDC had long been prepared for the possibility of an outbreak in any or all of its laboratories. Years before, they had instituted measures to avoid its dangerous inventory from being spread across the globe, should a catastrophic failure occur.
It was doubtful that they had envisioned a zombie plague, but the end result was the same. When the advanced sensors in the air ducts detected the various virii and bacteria entering the system, a series of valves opened, flooding the emergency lines with a liquid helium/oxygen mix… the same fuel that powered the space shuttles.
A few of the vandals noticed the warning sirens when they began to blare, but none left the facility, and when there was no one to turn off the automated countdown — or at least, no one who would — the highly volatile mixture sprayed into every nook and cranny of the facility, only awaiting a single spark to ignite.
The few remaining on the surface were singing hymns and chanting in prayer circles when they heard what sounded like the rumble of thunder from far underground. Suddenly, they could no longer keep their feet and were thrown as the ground heaved and buckled beneath them, then dropped.
Where once was a pristine lawn, carefully manicured and tended, and clean buildings with learned scientists struggling to cure the world’s ills, there was now a gigantic crater of smashed and broken earth. Fire spurted from different places, and the ground heaved as it settled.
The CDC dies not with a bang, but with a whimper, as it is consumed in all-cleansing fire.
Fort Carson, Colorado
I stood there on the airfield, looking over at the final loading of the C-17 that would take us to our new home under Mount Rainier. There was nothing I could do to help with the operation, and I’d been asked to get the hell out of the way and let the loadmaster and his crew do their jobs.
The smoke from burning buildings in Colorado Springs was thick in the distance, and I wondered how many people were alive down there.
Stop that. They’re dead, or soon will be. And that’s all you need to remember.
Apparently, my inner voice hadn’t gotten any nicer over the years.
The rest of 1st Team stood nearby — those of us who were left, anyway. Kim and Johnny were chatting with Maxwell and Dr. Adamsdóttir — Dr. Maxwell, now, I guess — as they walked up, the general’s own C-17 apparently ready and loaded.
I saluted as he approached, and he returned it, letter-perfect as always. “So that’s it, then, sir?” I asked.
He nodded. “Yeah. Everyone is gone except us; this place is a ghost town now. We’re the last ones.”
“How’s it looking out there?” I asked, waving in the direction of Colorado Springs. Or what was left of it, anyway.
“It’s all gone. You were right, son. When it happened, it happened fast.” He shook his head. “It was only a matter of time, and once USAMRIID and the CDC went up, there wasn’t much point in hanging around. Hard to believe two places could hold that much power over everything. We got all our people out, and the evacuations of the lottery winners went well. Last I heard they were at 95% or so.”
“What about the government? The president.”
Maxwell looked bleak. “I know the vice-president made it, but I heard a few minutes ago that the president’s chopper went down in a storm as he was crossing into Pennsylvania.”
“Pennsylvania, sir?”
“Bunker Five, under Mount Davis.”
“Oh.” We all turned to watch the C-17 finish loading the last of the Strykers. “And you, sir? Where are you and Mary off to?”
“We’re headed to Bunker Six, Wheeler Peak. It’s near Taos, in New Mexico.”
“Never been there, but it should be nice weather for you in your old age, sir.”
Maxwell raised an eyebrow and laughed. “Yeah, I suppose so. If I live long enough to see it once all this is over,” he said, the laughter subsiding and turning to a sigh. “If it ever is.”
He turned to Kim. “Well, major, are you ready to take charge of Bunker One?”
She looked down for a moment and squeezed my hand, then stood tall, saluting the general one last time. “Ready and able, general, sir!”
Maxwell returned her salute slowly, then I saw something I’d never expected to see — never thought was possible. A tear fell from his eye, and another, and he grabbed her in a fierce bear hug.
Emotion. In General Maxwell. Who knew?
“You take care of yourself, you understand me?” he said, his words muffled as he crushed her to him. “You and David, you’re our future.”
She hugged him back just as hard. “I will, Dad. I will. And we’ll talk on the radio and sat-comm as often as we can. This isn’t goodbye.”
I took the opportunity to hug Dr. Adamsdóttir as Johnny Barnes and Maxwell said their final words in person to one another. “Thanks for looking after me. I’m glad you and Kim found a way to bring me back.”
She nodded and hugged me back. “She needs you, David,” she whispered. “She might not ever say it, but she needs you as much as you need her. Never forget that.”
I nodded and held out a hand to the general as Kim and Mary said their goodbyes. “It’s been an honor, sir.”
“Dammit, David, at this point I’m pretty sure you can call me George.” He ignored my hand and brought me in for a bear hug as well. Surprised by my own emotion, I hugged him back too. It wasn’t just Kim that had gained a father, I realized.
“Thanks, George. For everything. And I’ll take good care of her, I promise.”
He laughed and stepped back, finally shaking my hand. “Care, nothing. You marry that girl the first chance you get, soldier. That’s an order.” He pointed at Johnny. “And you make sure it happens!”
Johnny nodded and we all chuckled. “Yes, sir! Happy to oblige, sir!”
A yell caught our attention, and I looked over at the C-17 loadmaster waving at us. I waved back and Kim and I watched as Maxwell said goodbye to each and every man in our team, just as he had with all the others. A wave, and another couple of good-byes, and we marched off to meet our future in the back of the huge planes headed in very different directions.
We clambered on-board and rolled down the runway before finally gaining enough speed to take off. As we made our lazy turn to head north, I looked down at what had been my home for several years.
Maxwell — George — was right; it was a virtual ghost town. I could see half-empty crates of supplies on the tarmac of the field, barracks doors left open and swinging in the wind, trash already blowing across the parade ground. Such a sad, lonely end to a place that had served us so well.
I looked over at Kim, and saw her looking past me at the base. I wondered if she thought the same thing I did, but she just smiled that smile of hers and kissed me on the cheek before glancing over at her brother strapped in across the way. Then she leaned back and closed her eyes.
“We’re not going to be getting much sleep when we land, David,” she said. “You might want to catch up now.”
I snorted. “Already telling me what to do, and you haven’t even said yes, yet.”
She cracked an eye. “Well, you haven’t asked, either.”
“Will you?”
“Seriously? That’s your proposal?
“I was ordered to marry you, after all,” I said, keeping the humor in my voice.
She sighed. “Well, I suppose, if you were ordered to do it…” Quick as lightning, she punched me in the side — lightly. “Of course I’ll marry you, jackass. We’re just going to have to think of a better story to tell our kids.”
“Kids?”
There was no way I was getting to sleep now.
It wasn’t so much the zombies that actually destroyed civilization as we know it. Sure, they were a component, but in the end, it wasn’t the zombies that went crazy and started killing people just for looking infected. It wasn’t a zombie that, in a fit of rage, threw a bomb through the window of a newspaper office in downtown Knoxville. Zombies didn’t trample each other to death trying to get away from the madman in the bomb-vest who decided that an evacuation center just outside Toledo, Ohio was the best place to demonstrate his love for Allah and the Prophet.
It wasn’t just religious folks, either. Mobs of humanity formed, frightened and turning to the only people who showed any leadership of any kind. Packs of warring tribes fought each other in the streets of the once-proud cities, at least in those that weren’t abandoned to the dead. Militias rose and fell. So-called ‘survivalists’ took refuge in their hideouts only to find that one of their loved ones had been bitten, or that their entrances weren’t as secure as they thought when other mobs tore them from the hinges and dragged their occupants out to be fed as offerings to the new gods, the walkers.
In the end, it was ordinary, average, everyday humans who panicked at the thought of everything they knew and loved coming to an end. And it wasn’t just that, it was also not knowing what came next. When the end of all things is staring you in the face — literally, in many cases — you’re forced to come to a decision: can I continue to live? Do I have it in me?
For many, the unfortunate answer to that question was, “No.”
They died by the hundreds to start with. Masses of people huddled together, praying or just hoping for a miracle, but providing a bloody feast for the walkers who found them. For others, the instinct was to run — run far away. But where was ‘away’? Where was safety? Where was shelter?
“Where can we go?” they cried.
And the cold, cruel answer came back in the screams and moans of the dying and the dead.
Nowhere.
Cities burned and were left abandoned as their destroyers moved off in search of other prey. Countries collapsed into ruin, borders merely a memory on a map somewhere, safety the only concern now.
But they had to run, and to keep running. To never stop.
For almost everyone, there was nowhere to take shelter. For almost everyone, death was merely a question of when, not if. Soon, the food would run out, or you wouldn’t be able to bring yourself to put a bullet in your husband, your wife, your brother, or your daughter, and then it would be your turn. Your death might be slow and painful or, if you got bit by a fast one, it would be quick and painful, and then you’d be more likely to kill everyone around you.
For most, death was a foregone conclusion.
But not for all.
Outside Seattle, Washington
“This is SO gonna suck,” said Gaines as he somehow pulled the straps tighter across his massive chest. He turned a little green as the plane dropped several hundred feet, then rose back up. I saw him glance over at Martinez who was, somehow, sound asleep. I could even see the drool.
I looked over at Kim and saw that she was nervous, but controlling it. Ever the consummate professional, I thought. I wish I was that good at not thinking about what was coming.
“It’ll be fine, big man,” I said. “It’s just a little turbulence.”
“I still say we shoulda just landed at McChord anyway and taken our chances.”
I snorted. “You saw the place, D. You saw what those crazy sons-of-bitches did to it. No way we can land there — no way.”
“I’ve been in worse, Gunny,” said Johnny, who had been saddled with the moniker of ‘Junior’, for obvious reasons. “You should’ve seen some of our drops in Nigeria, coming in off the water… This is nothing, man.”
Gaines just shook his head, tight-lipped and concentrating on not being sick. The loadmaster waved to Kim from off to the side in his own jumpseat, and I got each of us a helmet from the rack next to me so we could hear.
“Major, it appears that Swanson Field is clear. It’s a bit short, but…” he shrugged.
“How short is ‘a bit,’ sergeant?” Kim asked.
“3,000 feet, give or take, ma’am. About 500 feet short of what this big bastard needs.”
Kim looked at me, and I shrugged. “It doesn’t have to take off again.”
She looked thoughtful and nodded. “Tell them to land it anyway, sergeant. And try not to kill us in the process.”
The loadmaster grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”
We listened to the sergeant passing along Kim’s orders, and then to their back-and-forth chatter as we turned for our final approach. They seemed calm and collected; not at all like the grunts in the back who were sweating bullets.
I could feel us getting lower and lower, and for the first time in my life, I prayed that we wouldn’t crash.
“Don’t worry, sirs,” said the loadmaster. “We’re only a couple thousand pounds over the limit.” I realized that I had closed my eyes, and I opened them again, glaring at him, and he just laughed.
The landing was as rough as I could remember. We bounced once, and then I felt like I’d been slammed in the chest by a thousand-pound hammer as the pilots put on as much back-thrust as they could. I glanced out the window and I saw trees as big around as Gaines and Junior snapping off like twigs as the huge wings of the Globemaster tore through them like so much kindling.
Not the best landing site, clearly.
Suddenly, the plane tilted forward, and I heard a massive clanging, ripping noise. We began to slide sidewa
ys and then dropped another few feet as the rear landing gear were sheared off. One of the wings must’ve clipped a somewhat sturdier tree — or a rock — because we were sent spinning.
Wouldn’t it be a bitch to survive all of the walkers, only to die in a plane crash?
That’s when the world went black.
“No time for naps now, sleepy-head,” I heard an angel say. I opened my eyes and saw Kim leaning over me, and smiled… right up until every bruise demanded its own individual bit of attention, and I groaned.
The Dying of the Light (Book 1): End Page 39