by Sawyer, JT
“There ain’t nothing to see up top. They’re all dead—the cops, the folks who lived and worked downtown. Hell, most of the buildings are gutted or burnt out. From where I holed up, I saw hundreds of those prune-faced freaks bounding across the streets, tearing up anyone they got a hold of,” he said, leaning both hands on a table. “At first there were just a handful of ’em chasing people but, by nightfall, the city had emptied of anyone alive and only their hungry shrieks echoed off the streets.” He paused as he felt the wide eyes of the others in the room upon him, their mouths agape. “As far as I can tell, I was the only survivor in the region—everyone else got torn to pieces. Still, there must be a few guys alive in the central downtown area,” Jared said.
“How’s that?” said Tex-Mex, who had moved closer.
“Because a couple of those things that were about to grab me all of a sudden suffered from Exploding Head Syndrome as somebody with a rifle nailed ’em dead center—somebody from a rooftop downtown who had eyes like a barn owl. Whoever it was saved my ass.”
Chapter 22
White Sands Missile Range, New Mexico
President Huntington stood before the immense wall-sized computer monitor, digesting the visual images of destruction before him. Satellite newsfeed from around the world showed every major city being impacted by the strange disease as streets still ran amok with wanton carnage.
Around the secure bunker eight floors below the facility, his ad-hoc staff of analysts, military personnel, and remaining Secret Service agents were busy collating data from the surviving field operatives spread around the nation.
Eighteen hours earlier he had been in Albuquerque at a ceremony for WWII veterans and now half of his cabinet were dead or missing, the country’s civil infrastructure was shattered, and his daughter was still in harm’s way.
His eyes grew heavy from lack of sleep and he exhaled deeply as he saw General Adams approaching. With the vice-president dead and many of his military advisors gone, the always forthright three-star general had become his closest confidant on tactical matters. Huntington stood stoically with his arms folded across his chest in an attempt to hide his constant fist-clenching. “The DEA group in Tucson—have they commenced their rescue?” he said to General Adams.
“My team is in touch with them. They’ve just departed and we’ll know very soon about their progress. There is a major storm rolling in from Baja that could hamper their efforts.”
“And what about our allies in the UK, Europe, and elsewhere—how have they been impacted by this?”
“London is still under attack, with their death toll in the millions, similar to our large cities here. Germany, France, and Spain have fallen and are black holes right now. In Israel, Denmark, and Japan the more geographically isolated areas have escaped some of the large-scale devastation but no single place around the globe seems to have been spared.”
“And it appears that there are only a few defensible regions in the U.S. that remain safe havens—is that right?”
“The analysts have told me that Cape Cod and Newfoundland are still intact in the east. Fallon Naval Air Station in Nevada is where our remaining special operations teams from the western states are gathering to set up an incident command post. We should have more of those units online over the next few hours and have a better grip on our remaining capabilities.”
“I don’t understand how it could’ve come to this—we’re the most well-funded, well-informed country in the world, and we were somehow hamstrung enough to have missed this coming at us.”
“Agreed, sir, but the tiger is out of its cage and now we have to consider containment efforts before we risk losing any more people.”
“Containment—you mean drone strikes. You can skip the pc jargon, General; this isn’t a round-table meeting of UN delegates and political pundits.” Huntington pulled his shoulders back and raised an eyebrow. “Drone strikes are off the table for now. I’m not going to vaporize our cities. You don’t burn your home to kill a mouse, General. That’s insane, not to mention the collateral damage to remaining survivors still left around the country.”
“Drone strikes might not seem like an option now but with the current exponential rate of spread, we know that cities like L.A., Denver, New York, and others will be completely overrun in ninety-six hours,” the General said, walking up closer to the computer monitors. “This option may rise to the forefront soon if we’re to have any hope of salvaging the remaining areas and keeping those regions intact that are already secure. We can even commandeer the drones from here.”
“We’ll revisit this topic later, General. For now, let me know when we have something from the CDC on what exactly we’re dealing with, and grab me the minute you have word on my daughter.”
Chapter 23
“It sounds to me like the Secret Service and their protectee are safe where they’re at,” said Martin, a lithe DEA operator with a caterpillar-thick mustache. “Why not have them stay put through tonight, and after we retrieve our families and regroup here, we can extract the detail on campus?”
“Because the orders were given,” said Shane.
“The university is only a few miles away,” said Matias. “We should be able to get in and out quickly, if we can coordinate with them.”
“Yeah, but we’re also wasting precious time right now getting back to our homes,” said Martin. “I say we get to our families first, as planned, and then retrieve the others on campus. All the rules of engagement have changed, sir.”
“These are all solid tactical solutions; however, getting back to our neighborhoods is eleven miles one way with the vehicles. That’s not going to be a short drive given all the accidents and clogged streets, especially if we encounter other survivors along the way. The helo can only hold a few and it’s low on fuel.”
Shane mulled over the recent orders and then thought back to the conditions on the street that he had witnessed during the daylight. He intimately understood the critical window for survival in the heat without power and water. Being recently divorced, he thought more of his men than his own personal life. Matias had already been in touch with his wife and kids in Phoenix at his sister-in-law’s house prior to comms breaking down and Rory was a long-time bachelor. As for the other men, whose families resided in the nearby suburbs, Shane knew how imperative it was to get to them without delay.
Before the others could speak, Shane stepped forward, placing his hands on his hips. “Look, if this was any other day, I’d be giving the order to throw your gear in the rigs and be on our way downrange to the university, but not today. You’re going to have to decide if you are coming with me or going your own way back to your family. Your honor and integrity as warriors will not be diminished in any way in my eyes. I am good with whatever you choose.”
The men all bore grimaces and the tension in the air was evident. Shane moved to the vehicle and rolled up the city map. “I’m leaving for the university as soon as we have their location and have figured out our extraction plan, so hop in the helo if you’re with me. If not, then the other vehicles and armory are at your disposal. Godspeed, my brothers.”
During the next hour, Shane pored over the sat-imagery sent to him on his mobile laptop. He could see clusters of dozens of people spread in dorms and buildings around the university. He identified eleven groups of survivors spread around the campus. Some were only a few people while others numbered up to fifty.
He had pinpointed the location beneath the pharmacy building and detected six heat signatures, two of which were heavily armed. “This has to be them,” he said to Matias, who had just come down after packing the rest of the helicopter on the roof with tactical gear.
“What’s the plan once we get to them?” said Rory.
“Get ’em out and back here. This building is the most secure and well-equipped facility around here. Then it’s up to D.C. to finish their end of the girl’s extraction. After that, I plan on heading south in the helo to provide air support for the r
est of our guys retrieving their families.”
“And what if we come across other civilians on campus? We just gonna fly past ’em waving a banner that says, ‘this helo is reserved for the president’s kid’?”
Before Shane could answer he inched closer to the laptop screen, scrunching his eyebrows together. “Looks at this,” he said, pointing to a cluster of nineteen figures huddled in the cafeteria of a large dormitory. He zoomed in on the image and could make out the figures squatting nearly motionless as a cluster of forty or more creatures were moving in the hallway outside. “Look at how those things are massing. At first, they were all spread out in different directions until the lead ones picked up on something and they all unified. Are they going off of sound or scent when they detect their prey?”
Matias looked at the glowing red glob of creatures flooding the hallway enroute to the unsuspecting survivors, two rooms away. “Madre de Dios—it’s like a wildfire sweeping through the building.”
Within seconds the wave of creatures began assaulting the flimsy doors separating them from the survivors. Shane and the others watched helplessly as the creatures broke through the barriers and flooded inside. The heat signatures of the students were reduced in under a minute and then the creatures dispersed throughout the hallway as if their grisly collaboration had never occurred.
“Is this for real, man?” said Rory, who tightened the baseball cap down on his forehead. “How is it that we can even get heat signatures on those creatures—I mean, aren’t they dead?”
“I’m not sure what to make of them—alive, dead…somewhere in between. But one thing’s for certain, we need to get there fast. Those students who were just killed are infected and will be adding to the growing numbers of those things.” Shane slammed the laptop closed and stood up. “Let’s saddle up. We may not have much time.”
Chapter 24
After Shane was ready, he went down to the sub-basement where the other three men were preparing to depart in their Humvee. “Stay in radio contact with your handheld units and keep me updated on your progress, the road conditions, and eventual return to base,” said Shane.
The men shook hands and hastily climbed into the tan vehicle while Rory stood at the security entrance. After tapping in the security code to the concrete barrier door of the subterranean garage, the Humvees sped up the entrance ramp and into the wave of heat in the streets above.
Once his men were on their way, Shane and Rory grabbed duffle bags of weapons and gear and made their way up the eight floors to the roof. The rotors of the helo were already in motion, as Matias was inside preparing for departure. After all three men were strapped in, Shane gave the thumbs-up sign and Matias eased off the helipad.
Veering to the southwest, they flew over downtown Tucson, past crumpled cars, shattered storefronts, and thousands of mangled corpses lining the crimson streets below. Three combat tours overseas couldn’t compare to the staggering death toll Shane observed beneath him.
How could this have happened here in our own country? My God, this looks more like Somalia or Tikrit. Shane thought of his men speeding home to their families. Would they make it and would he ever see them again? And what of Carlie—was she one of the agents still alive at the university? If those creatures haven’t gotten her, then the triple-digit heat will. I sure as hell hope she and the others are alive and that this is going to be a quick snatch-and-grab.
As Matias swung towards the north end of campus, Shane scanned his laptop map and pointed ahead to the L-shaped pharmaceutical building in the distance. “It’s only two stories, and those things might be able to get to us. You’ll have to set it down on the taller research building two hundred meters to the east,” he said, staring back at the computer image.
Matias circled around the large cluster of medical facilities. Shane and Rory both strained to see any signs of movement on the roof. “Set her down and let’s see about getting into the service tunnels. My laptop shows the route to be clear of hostiles.”
Matias landed fifty yards away from the stairwell entrance. As the rotors wound down, Shane and Rory jumped out and dashed for the entrance with their M4s in low-ready. The wind had increased considerably and they were pelted by a driving rain. Rory pointed to the south and they could see a mile-high wall of sand and dark clouds moving in over the city.
After they regrouped, they headed down the dark stairwell with their night-vision goggles on while scanning the landings of each floor they descended. Arriving at the first floor, Shane raised his left hand in a fist for the others to halt. He pointed below, where they could see several creatures bustling around the lobby.
Shane and his men secreted themselves against the cinderblock walls while peeling off to either side of the door and keeping their rifles at low-ready. He could approximate the footsteps of three creatures slogging along the tiled floor outside the door.
He thrust his index finger down the stairwell and the three deftly sprinted down the cement steps, taking up positions behind a row of water-storage containers. Shane pulled out his laptop and scanned the thermal images in the area. He could see the Secret Service group still at their location and then glanced at the other dwindling clusters of survivors. Shit, there were eleven other groups earlier and now there are only five. These things are systematically devouring everything in their path. That one group is still alive next door in the mortuary sciences room though—but for how long?
He closed the screen and inserted the laptop in his backpack, then motioned to his men to continue moving forward. They floated down the corridor, and after several turns and another half-flight of stairs, arrived at the tunnel entrance by the elevator service doors. Matias used bolt cutters and removed the padlock. They climbed inside and made their way through the murky passageway for another two hundred meters.
Rounding the corner, Shane could make out six figures crouched beside a vent outlet, most of them appearing to be asleep. One was standing guard with a rifle while the familiar shape of a woman was resting a few feet away.
Shane removed his NVGs and took out a flashlight. He flashed two patterns of three flashes. “Carlie, is that you?” Shane whispered into the darkness, hoping it was indeed Carlie who would be on the receiving end. “Carlie Simmons—–can you hear me? It’s Shane Colter with the DEA. Do you copy?”
Chapter 25
“It’s starting to warm up in here,” said Jared, who had unbuttoned his shirt while looking over at Amy, who was standing nearby, sipping from a water bottle. She had just come from checking on the other students, who were strung out around the large room.
“Yeah, welcome to the Southwest—where life in the summer is only possible through air-conditioning,” Amy said.
“You grow up here or are you a transplant like everyone else I meet?”
“I grew up in Williams, a small town west of Flagstaff. Tucson is as big a city as I ever want to live in but it has an awesome emergency medicine program, which is what brought me here.”
Jared let out a half-smile. “Scraping street drunks off the pavement and being their taxi service to the hospital every night doesn’t sound like my idea of fun, no matter how much it pays.”
She stopped sipping and scowled at him. “What is it that you said you do for a living?”
“Oh, I’m self-employed. I come up with investment solutions for people who have significant holdings and wouldn’t mind seeing them go to better use.”
“So, you’re an economic advisor?” said Amy, whose hands were clasped tightly around the water bottle.
“More of a personal finance specialist—I bring many decades of field experience from wealthy patrons around the U.S.,” he said, running his tongue over his front teeth. “It’s a rewarding and lively field,” Jared said, barely recalling the canned speech he had recited so many times over the years to women of Amy’s age.
Jared heard some heavy breathing to his left and saw Bird Beak, a rotund man with a sweaty bald head, dozing off. Jared leaned over towar
ds Amy and whispered in his coy southern accent, “You gotta wonder how a basted pork chop like that made it out of the clutches of those things up above. I mean, some people just pop into this world bein’ lucky bastards.”
“With all that’s happened today, you can smugly sit back and just mock people? I’ve been standing here sipping my water for maybe three minutes and I’m already questioning my decision to open the door and let you in.”
Jared chuckled and stood up. “Ah, but what happened to that caregiver’s oath of yours? Besides, with my pistolas, I’m the best bet you have of getting out of here. You know you made the right decision.”
“That’s the only thing about today I’m unsure of,” she said, tossing the empty bottle past his face and into the trash bin beside him before walking away.
Chapter 26
Carlie was half-awake, her ponytail pushed back against the cool cement wall. Her mind was vacillating between the horrific events of the past eighteen hours and her now seemingly trivial frustrations from the other life she knew.
She thought about how things had been swept away so quickly and the world brought to its knees. Her mind raced over past intel reports and security briefings about bioterrorism and pandemic threats. Did someone release a virus or is God just punishing us for our ever-growing culture of moral decay?
She knew the latter thought was the vestige of her strict Roman-Catholic upbringing, but one she had hardly felt the need to consider since adolescence. There is no God. That was always the patriarchal establishment using religion for social control, not unlike the way politicians use the mainstream media today. There are puppet-masters everywhere, always trying to manipulate human lives and social destinies, she thought while looking over at the dim outline of Phillip nearby.