Day by Day Armageddon: Beyond Exile

by J. L. Bourne

  Lights Out

  23 Oct

  0500

  The rooftop is littered with spent casings. I was so exhausted last night I thought the ripping sound I heard was a dream. It was not until Saien was slapping the NVGs off my head that I woke to the sound of the mini–Gatling guns blazing away and hot casings hitting my face and neck. Saien put on the goggles and just stood there watching in the darkness. It was approximately 0300 hrs. After about five minutes of random gun bursts the radar recalibrated the weapon gyros and the system went silent once again. I asked Saien for the optics so I could see the battle damage. I checked out the roof first and noticed hundreds of rounds (not even a dent in the ammo supply) scattered all over the roof. Walking closer to the edge I could see scores of creatures on the ground. One of the creatures was still writhing on the ground but seemed to move without purpose or logic. Gun B seemed to jitter in response to the random movement on the ground so I decided to pull my sidearm and attempt a suppressed shot to prevent the gun’s gyros from burning out. It took three shots to fully neutralize the creature. This was a small group of undead, but the sentries had made short work of them.

  It seems that these devices could be worth their weight. After trying to go back to sleep for the final morning hours, Saien and I thought it a good idea to discuss how we would logistically handle our new gear. I told him that I thought it to be smart for the buggy to run point, followed by the truck. We both agreed it was sound to deploy an automated Gatling on top of the buggy until I thought of the operating limitations of the weapon. What if I turn on the weapon and it tracks Saien’s truck? The truck is moving and would therefore be targeted by the thermal/radar sensors. If we rolled in a convoy we could not deploy the buggy while moving. We could not risk getting taken out. We’ll also need to charge the batteries in the device using either the jumper cables and the truck or the solar panels. It was decided after discussion that I would drive the buggy and run about a quarter mile ahead of Saien to scout any potential bottlenecks in the highway. Saien would have the MP5 and AK loaded and ready in the event I got stuck or broke down in front. It was very cold in the mornings so I had no choice but to bundle up if I was going to go riding down the highway in basically a steel cage with four wheels. We’ll wait until sunup before we pack our gear so that we can see if the guns missed any targets before they have a chance to get up and return the favor.

  27 Oct

  0630

  We have been on the road for a few days since we acquired the buggy and automated weapons. There has been no contact via SATphone. The going has been very slow due to wreckage and the typical mayhem of undead corpses moving about on the highway. When either Saien or I clear wreckage, the other must cover the area with full attention. We have saved each other from attack numerous times recently. Days ago (or was it just yesterday?) we came upon an old hulk of a semi-truck jackknifed on the road. The trailer was riddled with high-caliber bullet holes and shrapnel marks, which piqued my curiosity. After establishing a moving perimeter in a circle around the wreck we moved in. We checked all possible angles and upon closer inspection discovered that this was a feed truck. The feed inside was long ago ruined by water damage and summer heat. Saien covered me as I jumped up on the running board and peered into the cab. Abandoned. No sign of trouble inside and no sleeper cab to hold surprises. This rig was meant for short haul. The owner probably lived not more than a hundred miles from where he abandoned his rig long ago. This unknown blue-collar contributor to the dinosaur that was the U.S. economy could still be holding out somewhere, his back to a barricaded door.

  Inside I noticed a CB radio. What caught my eye was that it appeared to be installed on a whim, wires still hanging out under the dash and around the gearshift. Following the antenna wire outside the cab I noticed that the antenna wasn’t very tight either. I headed back to the truck bed to find the tin of spark plug chips so I could get inside the cab and see about salvaging the CB radio.

  As I approached the truck, Saien whistled and pointed behind me. One of the creatures methodically approached, eyes locked on us like a lion stalking prey. Its hands were slightly bent and it walked in a half crouch, carefully moving forward. When I drew my sidearm the creature snapped into offensive mode and moved forward more quickly. I slowly squeezed my trigger and took its right cheek off. It kept coming, causing me to step backward until my retreat was stopped by a minivan. I kept squeezing off rounds until the creature fell not more than a foot from my boots. It still twitched for a few seconds, the last bit of evil seeping from its miserable frame.

  I shook this off and went at the semi. With a small handful of spark plug ceramic I gave the driver’s window a slow overhand pitch. The window shattered with very little sound. Most of the sound was a result of the broken glass hitting the running board and tank. The truck smelled very old inside. Months of mold and sun-bleached fabric particles whirled around the air inside the cab. I picked up the pieces of ceramic that I could find and went to work on the CB radio with my multitool. I checked to make sure I was being covered while I worked, as I had no choice but to keep the door open so I could get under the dash to remove the wires. This process took about fifteen minutes, as I wanted to avoid damaging the radio or the wires. As I removed the radio I noticed another radio under the seat, wrapped in its original wiring. The trucker’s original CB must have given out, forcing him to purchase another and perform a truck-stop install.

  I took the radio out of the semi and put it in the backseat of the pickup along with the antenna. Grabbing my binocs I went back to the truck and climbed up on top of the trailer. Scouting in all directions, I noticed that it seemed there were more undead about than in the days before. I yelled down the situation to Saien and we traded spots. Saien agreed that there seemed to be more undead in our area. Saien covered as I attempted to wire the CB radio to the truck. Salvaging parts from the surrounding vehicles, I was able to install the radio better than it had been installed on the rig. Finally, I checked the rig’s fuel tank and determined that there was enough fuel inside to top off the truck. Saien and I worked to do this as we continually checked our surroundings for danger. After siphoning the diesel, we attempted to test the radio. The receiver worked, but we didn’t know how effective our transmission was because there was no reply to our broadcast sent out in the blind.

  I had the CB set to channel 18 so Saien could hear any transmission that might occur while we are on our convoy. Later in the day we came upon a small town, the same type of town you see in a Norman Rockwell painting. Although no living testament to Americana was present as we made our way down Main Street, there was an air of tension, and I felt that something watched from the windows. Something wicked. I kept scanning the second-story windows as I idled through. Since the outbreak occurred in the winter, the windows were closed. All but one—a second-story window above a flower shop. I stopped the buggy, jumped out and signaled Saien to cover while I secured the immediate area. A light breeze blew the thin curtain of the open window. Upon closer inspection of the area I noticed that the cars looked as if they were victims of a vicious hailstorm. Huge dents pocked the horizontal surfaces and the windows were all cracked from a great force. It didn’t register logically in my brain, so I kept looking and noticed that the faces of the buildings were all damaged as if someone had pulled a great anchor chain along the side of them.

  The place had been swarmed. It appears as if the huge mass that swarmed the streets of this small town had long since moved on, bringing the original townie ghouls with them in all the noise and commotion. I estimated that thousands had moved through here, so many, in fact, that they were climbing on cars and grinding the building fronts to get through.

  Thinking of the radiated undead, I stayed clear of any dense metallic objects to avoid unnecessary exposure. There appeared to be a makeshift roadblock consisting of midsized cars at the other end of Main Street. Amazingly, the fronts of the cars had been pushed outward, away from where I was standing. Whatev
er size this swarm was, it had moved in the same direction Saien and I were headed. I can only hope it was months ago. Saien and I agreed that there was no advantage to checking out the second-floor room above the dead flower shop. We drove off toward the old roadblock and saw remnants of corpses with half their torsos in the street storm drain, and half out . . . just waiting to rot enough to fit down the drain and be washed away forever.

  28 Oct

  2100

  We found shelter in an old power plant west of Nacogdoches, Texas. My maps give telltale indications that Nacogdoches was once a moderately populated area. The plant was completely surrounded by a tall chain-link fence, excluding the front and rear parts of the structure. In these areas a swing gate stood, designed to stop vehicles from entering without authorization. The gates looked newer than the rest of the plant and were probably a result of post-9/11 security measures. Saien and I had not seen a need to deploy the automated Gatling guns since our night on the airport rooftop. We had spent most of the nights since then sleeping on top of linked railroad cars, parking one vehicle near our position and one vehicle a few hundred yards farther down the track as a backup means of escape. This was how we found the power plant. The rain was coming down as my watch alarm went off, warning me it was two hours until sunset. Just as we were about to give up on finding a set of rail cars to provide shelter for the night, we came upon “Anaconda.” Saien and I had been staying sane by playing stupid games like naming the trains after snakes, depending on color and how many rail cars were linked together. The past few nights were black snake and garter snake. We also tried to find as many states as we could represented on the license plates of abandoned vehicles. Approaching Anaconda, we could verify it was a very long train. Most of the green hopper cars were filled with heaps of coal for what seemed like miles.

  We drove alongside the tracks counting cars. The ground under the cars was stained black from the months of rain seeping through the coal and hitting the ground. Nearing the end of the line, we saw the massive mountain of coal near the power plant and the rusting hulks of bulldozers used to move the black rock. One bulldozer was overturned and the rest were parked in a row. We counted 115 rail cars, not including the propulsion locomotive. Fog was rolling in as we neared the front access gate. I pulled the buggy inside and Saien followed in the truck. I got out and pulled the gate closed behind us, latching it into the hole in the ground with the T-hook. Saien was already doing what I was thinking. He pulled out the Gatling and we set it up at the access point. Setup took three minutes. I parked the buggy in a spot that would facilitate a quick getaway, and Saien and I drove to the back of the plant to set the second Gatling. It was raining and miserable and I was happy that these prototype devices depended on radar and thermal for target discrimination, because I couldn’t really see that far in this mess.

  As the sun moved lower behind the dark clouds I thought the same thought as I did many nights before. The Reaper UCAV overhead would soon be headed home along with my two five-hundred-pound laser-guided bombs. Finding a secure room with two exits didn’t take long. We didn’t have time to clear the area before night fell so we had to make the best of it. I’ve not heard a peep from the Gatlings and I like it that way.

  29 Oct

  1200

  Saien woke me up this morning for no good reason—just to take a piss. Although I was annoyed by this, we had already agreed that neither of us should go anywhere without the other person in visual range. Grudgingly, I stepped outside behind him in the cold October morning. The sun was out and I realized that I needed to answer nature’s call too. Saien faced the forward gate and I faced the aft gate as I helped to fill up a mud puddle from last night’s rain. Looking out into the distance toward the cannon, I noticed that it was canted to the left. When I left it yesterday evening it was calibrated facing straight forward toward the access road. Putting away my gun and shouldering my rifle I stepped toward the gate. I walked for a few seconds before I heard Saien’s steps behind me. As I got close enough I noticed the wind rolling the spent casings around at the base of the system. Only a few. Looking out into the street I could see two dead birds. I ran over to them and saw that they were ducks. It was then I realized I had walked into the field of fire of the Gatling and yelled for Saien to turn off the weapon. I picked up the two ducks by their necks and we rushed to get them ready to eat. No need to waste this golden opportunity for fresh meat.

  I lopped off their heads with my knife as Saien ran off to get some coal from the massive black mountain. After forty-five minutes or so of preparation they were good enough to cook. We set up a campfire with the coal and kindling and had some duck for brunch. After eating most of the duck we began clearing the power plant and looking for anything of use in the area. I was getting sleepy with such a full stomach but I had no choice. I didn’t want to waste the meat. As we attempted to add method to our area-clearing we came upon the stairs leading to the main control room on the second floor. At the top of the stairs was a corpse. It was so long dead that it looked like a sea bag full of bones. It was dark, forcing me to turn on my weapon light and use my muzzle to flip the remains of the corpse. I could barely make out the embroidery on the coveralls, but the man’s name was Bill and he was a lead boiler mechanic. Walking up the stairs with Saien covering I could see gore marks on the heavy steel door. The door was locked. Saien asked me to cover him as he pulled out his pick set. Under his breath he complained that a rake would not work for this lock. He’d need to pick it pin by pin. After ten minutes he had the door unlocked and his foot planted to keep it closed if something was inside that wanted to come out. I knocked on the door and then put the muzzle of my rifle inside. No reaction. Saien swung the door open and our bright lights penetrated the darkness of the defunct control room, cutting through the floating dust. There was a wall of windows that offered a view down into the generator level below. It was so dark that I could see only the rounded generator tops. They looked like large round steel bales of hay in a field. After shining my light into the abyss I could see movement below. There were creatures on the generator floor. Number unknown. All observed were in coveralls.

  We were relatively safe here above the mess below. A thick layer of dust covered the computers and switches and various mechanisms of the room. A large green logbook was sitting at the main desk in the center of the room with an ashtray, desk lamp and pen. I opened the book. It started with the date January 1985. After a few weeks of entries in 1985 the last 1985 entry read, “Log being decommissioned due to new computer logging system installation implementation, Signed, Terry Owens, Plant Manager.”

  The book was decommissioned in 1985 with only a couple dozen pages filled in. The next entry read:

  Log recommissioned by Bill. End of the world. Computer systems unreliable. —Bill

  January 15—We have sixty days of coal remaining and a train on the way to the plant.

  January 16—Coal train arrived. No conductor aboard. Parking brake set.

  January 17—We are down to 50 percent crew. The Department of Energy has authorized shutting down infested grids. We will be receiving the list soon.

  January 18—List of deactivations received.

  January 20—Using only 15 percent previous consumption.

  January 21—We have one bulldozer operator remaining. Without her, we will be unable to feed the burners and generate juice. We have hired a walk-in to sit with her and shoot the things that keep trying to climb on the dozer.

  January 31—Government announced city destruction plans. Cities match January 18 DOE list.

  February 1—We’re still here.

  February 5—Plenty of coal, not much to do with it.

  February 6—We are down to one burner and generating power for the plant only.

  February 20—They are at the door. Getting out through vent below control panel. Shutting plant down. Only one left.

  Lights out. —Bill

  30 Oct

  0700

 
The automated weapons have been going off all night. We have heard strange noises outside in the darkness that can only mean an undead posse in the vicinity of the front of the plant. We are packed and about to recon the area now that the sun is up.

  0900

  Automated weapons are spent and knocked over. Through Saien’s scope we can see that the ammunition has been depleted and dozens of bodies lie around the emplacements. Some of the creatures still thrash about, their brains damaged enough by the Gatling to render them useless but not completely neutralized. We decided to hide the technology so that raiders with bad intent cannot salvage it. Leaving the plant soon.

  Bridge of No Return

  09 Nov

  1043

  After countless hours and countless trials since the coal plant, Saien and I had one more major obstacle between the last stretch to Hotel 23 and us. Upon surveying our maps carefully, we only really had two options:

  1. We could trek north and perhaps find a way across the river that lay ahead.

  2. We could take the Livingston Bridge.

  Most likely the bridge on our charts would be two lanes wide, based upon the highway it served for crossing.