by J. W. Vohs
Forty soldiers were set up in groups of four around the perimeter of the auto lot, while mechanics and others with engine experience worked to fuel up the vehicles and get them started. Everyone was as quiet as possible as they performed their assigned tasks, but inevitably noise was made and the infected were attracted to the area. Since the soldiers involved with this operation had battled thousands of the monsters at some point since the outbreak, they were well prepared to engage a few stray packs. The flesh-eaters were silently killed with no injuries to the fighters. After a tense half-hour, the experienced mechanics among the group announced that they were ready to load up and hit the road.
Twenty-three four-wheel drive trucks and SUVs had been looked over, gassed up, and deemed capable of the demands the trip was going to make on them. This was far more than the expedition needed to transport the soldiers and their equipment, but breakdowns were expected to occur along the way, and there would be no time for repairs as they hurried to reach Fort Wayne. Each vehicle carried extra fuel cans and siphoning gear, and five portable generators were dispersed to be shared among several drivers for use in activating pumps at stations that still had full tanks. Four of the largest trucks were fitted with winches strong enough to pull all but semis from the roads, and these rigs formed the vanguard of the column.
Highway 24 was a mess, as expected, but in less than two hours the expedition covered over thirty miles. When they reached the town of Grand Rapids, the soldiers found more than enough canoes to add to those they had brought along from Middle Bass or scavenged along the way. Packs of hunters regularly chased the convoy, and sometimes managed to catch up to the vehicles when the column was slowed by traffic jams, but all of the creatures were killed by silenced firearms before they were able to threaten any of the fighters. Most importantly, no helicopters were spotted during the nerve-wracking journey over the cluttered roads the expedition followed toward Fort Wayne. By late afternoon the force was approaching the Saint Mary’s River about fifteen miles south of the city, after almost miraculously averaging over fifteen miles per hour on the apocalyptic roadways.
All of the vehicles were parked as deep in the brush of the many woodlots separating the agricultural fields as possible in the hope of avoiding detection from the air while the troops unloaded their gear. Then watercraft were hauled down to the shoreline, and within minutes all of the soldiers were paddling their canoes out into the sluggish current of the coffee-colored water. The troops were outfitted for a fight rather than the extended camping trip David and the others who’d travelled the Maumee with him were used to experiencing. The veteran fighters floated beneath the canopy of trees with their helmets off, but wearing all other protective gear and keeping weapons at the ready. The boats carried only soldiers and their weapons, and they literally glided over the gently rippling surface of the river as they made excellent time in the growing twilight.
David sat in the front of a canoe paddled and steered by Christy, trying to protect his injured ribs from further damage by allowing his wife to propel the vessel on her own. He was absolutely astonished by how much ground they had covered since midnight, making it all the way from Middle Bass Island in the middle of Lake Erie to the Saint Mary’s River approaching the city of Fort Wayne. Only a month ago he and his crew had struggled mightily to travel from Cleveland to Albion, Indiana, and the trip had taken nearly a week to accomplish. He considered how effectively a large force of veteran soldiers, moving light and fast, could still cover ground in the post-collapse world. He figured this wouldn’t be the case forever—gasoline would soon go bad without treatment, and though diesel fuel lasted much longer, it was in limited supply in the gas stations. Regardless, soon they would have the rivers and railroads with which to move across the continent, a level of mobility he would have thought impossible when he watched the world collapse just a few months earlier.
Luke, Marcus, and Bobby were crowded into their own canoe, whispering quietly as they discussed contingency plans for their reconnaissance of the airport. Night vision and outstanding physical fitness were their greatest assets tonight as they planned to rapidly cover the short distance to their objective as quietly as possible. With only a quarter-moon shining above them and no other light to worry about, they knew that the hunters would only be able to see a few feet in the darkness, and experience had taught them that the creatures generally laid low at night unless disturbed. All things considered, they expected to be able to reach the airport undetected, look the situation over as quickly as possible, and get back to their canoe in time to reinforce the attack on the Headwaters in case their fellow soldiers ran into trouble.
Marcus was the navigator for the mission. Like all special forces soldiers, he’d used a GPS to great effect while in the service, but he’d always worried that the day might come where such technology might not be available and he’d trained himself accordingly. He knew where they were on the river by map, compass, and recognition of landmarks, and he was certain he could guide them to the airport and back using the same methods. In any event, the roads leading to the Air Guard base could be easily followed.
At nine P.M. the flotilla reached the bridge spanning a large bend in the river that marked the jumping off point for the airport mission. Gracie was paddling with Lieutenant Heder, and they stopped briefly next to Luke’s canoe. Gracie and Luke grasped hands and wordlessly gazed into each other’s eyes as they soaked in one another’s essence before going their separate ways. They both understood that the next few hours would bring dangerous combat in which people would die by morning. They knew they could lose people they loved; they knew they could lose each other. Luke finally let her go and turned to Lieutenant Heder, “Red, I mean Frank, don’t leave her side for anything—promise me you two will stick together.”
“I promise I won’t let her out of my sight, no matter how the fighting is going,” he answered.
“And I’ll make sure he makes it back to Brittney,” Gracie promised as their boat drifted out to rejoin the column of canoes passing in the dark.
Luke watched them fade out of sight. For the first time, he wondered why it hadn’t occurred to him to leave the airport mission to Marcus and Bobby. He felt completely unsettled, leaving the woman he loved, the woman who had just agreed to marry him, right before a fight. He belatedly realized that this was one part of the operation to investigate the airport that he had failed to account for. He pictured Gracie on the day they first met, fighting like a tiger at her father’s side against an onslaught of zombies. She was strong and brave then, but now she was also an experienced warrior. A smart, beautiful, soldier with silky skin who smelled like springtime and who made him forget all the horrors of the world whenever she curled up in his arms . . .
“Snap out of it, lover boy,” Marcus prodded. “We need to bank this canoe and get moving.”
Ferguson Road was a wide thoroughfare that led straight to Fort Wayne International Airport, and with only about two miles to cover the three strong warriors jogged the distance in less than twenty minutes. The Air Guard base lay on the east side of the airport, so they didn’t have to worry about crossing any of civilian facilities to reach their objective. Bobby carried heavy-duty bolt cutters to use on the fences surrounding the main buildings and staging areas of the airfield, and the trio quietly snipped wire and cut locks to gain entry to the military buildings. They had seen several packs of hunters and a few individual infected on the road without feeling the need to engage any of them, but not long after forcing their way through a second fence they spotted eight of the creatures sleeping together in the windward side of an outbuilding. The three soldiers looked at one another and nodded, knowing that they couldn’t leave a group like this along their escape route in case they made drew too much attention and had to get out in a hurry. They moved over to where the flesh-eaters lay and shot all of them before any of the creatures had the chance to resist; then they moved off in the direction of several large hangars and what they thought mi
ght be an administration building several hundred yards in the distance.
As they closed in on the structures and their NVGs revealed more detail, their excitement began to build. Tiny lines of light could be seen peeking out from behind blackout curtains from inside one of the buildings, so people were definitely here. Then they rounded one of the hangars and saw three Blackhawk helicopters on the tarmac. For a moment the three men just stood and stared in wonder. They had all agreed that the airport had to be investigated in light of recent events, but none of them really believed they were going to see what their eyes now plainly revealed. They went to ground and spent at least ten minutes watching and listening. Amazingly, they detected no guards near the choppers or anywhere else outside of the office building. Bobby finally looked over at the other two, shrugged, and whispered, “Let’s have a look inside.”
As they moved up to the structure with the blackout curtains, Luke thought over the situation and decided that with miles of strong fencing still in place around both the airport and the Air Guard base, the people here felt secure from the infected. They also obviously believed that no humans could make it through the surrounding countryside in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. With no threat to the security of the hangar, they’d decided not to place a guard over their helicopters. All in all, they should have been right on both counts. They had no reason to anticipate a visit from the three soldiers now lurking outside their walls.
Bobby silently picked the lock on the door in less than two minutes, and they entered a foyer that held only a receptionist’s desk and a half-dozen chairs scattered along the walls. At the back of the small room sat a closed door with a thin ring of light outlining the frame, and Marcus held up his hand to stop their advance. He motioned for the helmets and NVGs to come off.
They moved up to the interior wall and listened for a few minutes, detecting four different voices and country music being played at a low volume. The three veterans pulled their .22s as Marcus whispered, “These pea-shooters ain’t gonna do much to these dudes right off unless we hit ‘em in the head, and that’s even if they aren’t wearing body-armor. Let’s try to scare them into giving up; that’d be a lot better for us anyway.”
Luke and Bobby nodded their understanding, so Marcus reached out and slowly tried the knob. He found it unlocked, as expected, and looked at his friends just before flinging open the door and rushing into the room. Luke saw six men sitting around a table in fatigue pants and brown t-shirts, playing cards, drinking beer, and completely taken by surprise. Across the room one man was reading below a small lamp, and he reacted much faster than any of them expected when he knocked the light to the floor and pulled a pistol as he went into a fighting crouch.
Marcus and Bobby had their guns on the men at the table, screaming at them not to move or they’d blow their heads off. They were experienced enough at this type of action to immediately move around the table in order to put their prisoners between the shooter and themselves, trusting that their partner would find a way to take out the man with the weapon. Luke also knew what to do, and threw himself to the floor just as shots rang out from the other side of the room. The bullets flew high and the muzzle flashes from the pistol revealed the man’s hiding place in the shadows. Luke was one of the most experienced zombie fighters on the planet, but he knew little about neutralizing a gunman inside a building. Still, he was a natural warrior who instinctively understood that prompt action usually won a violent encounter. He quickly grabbed a small backpack lying near him and tossed it over the sofa in the direction of the shooter. As he’d hoped, the gunfire erupted again as the concealed man shot up the bag, and the instant the firing stopped Luke was on his feet and pouring rounds directly at his opponent’s head and shoulders. One shot was squeezed off in reply, but came nowhere close to the lightning-fast teen who was already leaping over the furniture and crushing the shooter’s wrist under his boot-heel. Luke felt the bones grind under his foot, but the man below him made no sound. Kneeling down next to the prostrate body, Luke saw three bloodspots on the man’s scalp, and two more where the neck and shoulders met. The stricken fighter was still drawing in ragged breaths, but Luke knew he wouldn’t last long. The .22 wasn’t a powerful round, but at close range it could penetrate the skull and scramble the brain of a human. He looked over at the two Rangers and shook his head, and Bobby said, “Make sure.”
Luke holstered the pistol and pulled his trench axe, ending the dying man’s suffering with one blow. For the first time that he could remember he actually felt remorse when he killed, hoping that these people were definitely enemies and not just some sort of government observers. He crossed the room to where the other six men were still sitting with their hands in the air and began zip-tying them to the chairs while they remained at gunpoint. When he finished securing the prisoners he duct-taped their mouths shut, then he and Bobby cleared the rest of the facility while Marcus kept an eye on the enemy troops.
They found no one else in the building, just sleeping quarters for the men who were occupying the place. Seven sleeping bags atop fold-up cots were a strong indicator that all of the people here with the helicopters were now accounted for. Relieved to discover that they had complete control of the situation, they returned to the prisoners, where they began questioning them one by one.
The captured men had left their belongings in their sleeping quarters, so Luke and Bobby had found IDs for each of the prisoners easily and quickly. All were members of the U.S. Army, three warrant officers in flight suits who they assumed were pilots, and two sergeants probably tasked with keeping the choppers in running condition. The sixth man wore captain’s bars and a USAMRIID patch on his uniform. The dead soldier was another pilot. At first Luke was horrified over the possibility that they had made a terrible mistake and he now had the blood of an innocent American serviceman on his hands, but it didn’t take long for the interrogations to reveal otherwise.
Marcus had spent time with interrogators in the Middle East, and he knew what he was doing when it came to working with difficult prisoners. The first thing he did was look around the table and ask who was willing to tell him what was going on. All of the men looked down except for the surly-looking captain, who stared at Marcus as if he was enjoying thinking about all the ways he could kill his captor. This was the man Marcus grabbed first. The tough Ranger forced the prisoner’s hand up onto the table and pulled his combat knife, “You gonna answer my questions?”
The look of hatred was gone from the officer’s face, but he still managed to shake his head in defiance. Luke looked away as the blade came down at the first knuckle of the prisoner’s pinky-finger and the man’s muffled screams rang out through the room like fingernails down a chalkboard. Marcus then threw the prisoner roughly to the floor and shouted for Bobby to take the bleeding, moaning USAMRIID captain into the back room and finish him off. “Slit his throat, man, and take your damn time!”
Bobby smiled wickedly and retorted, “Yes, sir, but don’t you have all the fun without me.”
Luke suddenly figured out what was going on and stepped in to play his part, yelling at Marcus, “Dude, what the hell are you doing?”
Marcus snarled, “These bastards have killed a lot of innocent survivors who’d already been through the worst disaster in mankind’s history. I will cut every one of them into tiny pieces to find out why they did it, and who they’re working for!”
Luke stepped over to the hyped-up Ranger, “C’mon, man, let me try before you go hurting any more of ‘em.”
Marcus stared at Luke for a moment as if he was considering slugging him in the face before finally stepping back and waving his knife at the prisoners. “Go ahead, give it your best shot. But I’m cutting the balls off of the first guy that doesn’t answer your questions.”
Luke looked over the bound and gagged men and begged, “Please guys, just answer a few questions and I swear on my life I won’t let him hurt any more of you.”
The teen looked over the group an
d noticed one of the soldiers seemed more frightened than the others, with huge eyes boring into Luke’s with an expression that indicated he would be the first to talk. Luke gently pulled the tape from the man’s mouth and drug his chair to an isolated corner of the room. After turning up the music a bit so that his comrades couldn’t hear what was being said, Luke started asking questions. “Who do you work for, and what’s your mission?”
The soldier said that the helicopters had been sent west by a small unit of the Army with orders to eliminate armed settlements that resisted the demand to put down their weapons and open their gates to the new governmental authority. When asked why The Castle and its people were given no warning before being attacked, the soldier confessed that their orders had been to destroy any groups of survivors found in northern Indiana. They’d been told by their commander that the people in this area were infected with a dormant and highly contagious form of the virus developed by a rogue scientist trying to develop an antidote to the infection.
Marcus and Luke both just shook their heads in disbelief when they heard that lie, and then Luke finally asked the question on everyone’s mind. “How are you controlling the infected?”
The prisoner looked at the floor as he explained in a hushed voice, “I’m not sure, maybe ultra-high radio frequencies or some kind of electrical impulses. They don’t tell us how it works; we only get information on a need-to-know basis. One thing is for sure though, scientists working for us apparently knew what was coming because they had the equipment needed to direct the infected as soon as it became obvious the outbreak was global and unstoppable.”
“How does it work?” Marcus demanded.