A Place Outside The Wild

by Daniel Humphreys

  The reader considered the chip, then the thumbprint scanner molded into it lit up. “So far, so good,” Miles said and placed his thumb on the cutout. The activity light in the reader flashed as it considered the loops and whorls of his print and measured the temperature of his thumb.

  The lock indicator on the reader changed from red to green, and with a solid thunk of disengaging solenoids, the door unlocked.

  He reached out to open the door but Ross intercepted his arm before he could complete the motion. “Stand aside, please,” the SEAL said. Miles nodded and moved into the far corner. Ross took a position just beside the door handle and pressed a button on his MBITR. “Chief, Brian, stand by. The door is open and I’m preparing to sweep.” He released the button and listened for a moment. “Miles, how fast does that door lock?”

  “It should auto-lock as soon as it swings back.”

  “Good. I need you to hold it open until I give the all-clear. If I come backing out, let me get out and then push it closed as fast as you can. I hope this room is clear, but you never know.”

  “You got it,” Miles said and switched corners so that he was standing on the hinge side of the door. Ross waited until he’d completed the move, lifted his SCAR into firing position, and pulled the door open.

  There was a slight hiss of air as the door seal broke; had the room been under negative pressure? Ross slid inside, and Miles stepped forward to hold the door open. He placed his foot between the jamb and the door and kept one hand on the knob.

  From what he could see of the inside, the room was dim and clean, much like the opening off of the elevator. The floor consisted of suspended tiles, though there were gaps here and there to route data and power cables. Server racks lined the entire back wall, though most of the blade slots were empty. All the racks were lit up, and Miles winced. He hoped that the years had been kind, and no drives or fans had seized up. He didn’t hear any noises — maybe the systems were good. If they weren’t this was all for naught.

  Ross disappeared around a corner and returned a moment later. “Clear,” he said. “Find something to prop the door open and come inside.”

  Miles searched the floor for a doorstop. In his server room, they used a triangular rubber door wedge one of the other IT guys had snagged from some mid-level manager’s office. The petty act of inter-office thievery had been born more out of immature petulance than any real revolt. If they wanted their own, all they had to do was order it through the office supply portal. The manager was the kind of guy that looked down on anyone working on his systems, so a couple of the IT crew had decided to teach him an important lesson. Never mess with anyone who prepares your food or fixes your computers. The doorstop was level one; if the manager kept to his ways, the pranks ramped up.

  Passive aggressive? Oh, yeah. Tricksters or not, Miles missed those guys.

  The personnel assigned to this room had no such accessories. Either propping the door open was against some security policy, or they didn’t stay long enough to need it. It wasn’t like there was a bathroom in the hall, after all.

  He pulled a pistol magazine out of one of his pouches and laid it on the floor. It was just thick enough to keep the door from engaging the switch that activated the locking mechanism.

  He stepped inside with one hand on his rifle. Ross had said it was clear, but he was well aware of how much vertical space there was between the floor tiles and the foundation below. It was more than enough room for someone to hide.

  Miles stomped on one of the tiles as he moved through, then hesitated to listen. The room was as silent as a tomb save for the slow whir of a cooling fan drawing air up and out of the ceiling.

  Ross gave him a puzzled look, and Miles jerked a thumb down at the floor. “There’s usually a good two feet of space below these floor tiles. It gives plenty of room for cable runs and ventilation for cooling.”

  The SEAL blanched and shook his head. “Damn. Bad slip up.” He sighed. “I need a vacation. So — what do you think?”

  Miles looked around. The room curled into an abbreviated L-shape off of the entrance. It looked, as best as he could tell, as though it occupied one whole corner of the building, although none of the walls had any windows. He studied them for a moment, noting the thick conduits that passed through each of the exterior walls, before realizing where they stood. “Of course. The company signage is on those walls there. There would never have been offices here anyway, the logo would have gotten in the way. The ceiling in the cafeteria is so high that you don’t pay attention to the actual dimensions. This part is right above the kitchen, and there’s a faux wall over the serving line so you’d never even pick up that there’s this much dead space between the roof and the next open floor.” He studied the rest of the room.

  The server racks extended across just the one wall, and all the remaining walls were plain unadorned concrete. In the leg of the L-shape, a workstation sat in the center of the space along with a single chair. On top of the workstation sat a large, wide-aspect flat panel monitor and a keyboard and mouse. One side of the keyboard supported an auxiliary card reader, piggybacking off a built-in USB port. The rest of the room’s interior was devoid of, well, anything. No posters, long-dead houseplants, or family pictures that would signify in any small way that this was a place of work.

  Miles moved over to the computer and noted the slim bundle of Cat6 and power cabling wire-tied to one of the workstation’s legs. The end near the floor descended into a small port, heading to parts unknown. The rest provided power to the monitor and a small NUC unit just a bit larger than a regulation hockey puck bolted to the VESA plate on the back of the screen. Miles pointed it out to Ross.

  “Next unit of computing, we switched over to them a few years before Z-Day. Neat little systems, solid state, they can do pretty much anything a bigger PC can do without the wasted desk space.” Miles rubbed his chin. “I don’t get it, though. You said your source told you this was where GenPharm did the vaccine research. This looks like some sort of massive data backup setup.”

  Ross looked at him and worked his mouth as though he were chewing on a particularly tough piece of meat. “This is the right place, based on the information we obtained.”

  “And you know this guy wasn’t shining you on, because . . . ?”

  “I can assure you of his veracity. More than that, I can’t say. Compartmentalized, need-to-know information.”

  Miles looked at the other man for a long, uncomfortable moment. Finally, he sighed and said, “Shit. Whatever. Let’s see what we can get out of this thing.”

  He pulled the chair out and sat down in front of the workstation. After hunting around for a moment, he found the power button for the NUC, and the screen came to life as the little computer booted into the operating system.

  “So far, so good,” Miles said as the multicolored logo faded into a login screen. He slid his badge into the reader. When the indicator light turned green, he thought for a moment. Bad time to forget your password. No pressure, now.

  He tapped in what he thought was the password, crossed mental fingers, and hit enter. The system considered the password for a moment, then flashed a rectangular error message on the screen. “Shit,” Miles hissed, and then shook his head. He cleared the error message out and tried one more time. Again, error. He read it twice to make sure he wasn’t entering a wrong password. No such luck.

  “It won’t let you in?”

  “The genius,” Miles made air quotes with his fingers, “who put this setup together didn’t realize that the authentication servers are down on the 9th floor. And they never ran power from the solar panels down there. So all this stuff is just sitting here twiddling its thumbs and the gatekeeper isn’t even powered up.” He rested his elbows on the desk and dropped his head into his hands. “We’re going to have to go down there.”

  Chapter 26

  “Twelve freaking stories,” Janacek grunted. “I wouldn’t recommend it.” He shot Miles a look. “Not with a rookie climb
er. We don’t have enough rope for a safety margin, either.”

  They’d regrouped at the top of the elevator shaft in the maintenance shack. The SEALs were in the midst of a hushed, fiercely worded debate over how to get down to the ninth floor. Miles had little to offer on the subject and listened with one ear as he made a slow circuit around the interior. Poking his nose into the various toolboxes and collections of electronics was far more interesting than the conversation raging over their latest obstacle.

  “I could belay him down,” the Chief offered.

  “Maybe,” Ross said. “That’s a hell of a long way to lower him, though, Chief, and we don’t have any equipment to arrest the line if you lose your grip.”

  “We don’t have enough rope, Lieutenant,” Janacek said. “But I’m repeating myself. Even if the Chief lowers our consultant, we have to assemble down there one at a time if you want to forget safety lines. We could do short lines and just carabiner to each rung in turn, but that’s a lot of repetition and a lot of chances to slip up.”

  “We could pop the weld and take the stairs,” Foraker offered.

  “It would be too loud without the welder,” Ross mused. “But the building seems unoccupied.”

  “Yeah, we think the building is clear, but what if it’s not? Say we crack open the door and there’s a herd of stiffs stumbling around down there. Backup’s one hell of a long way off, Mikey.”

  Ross growled in annoyance. “Okay, fine, so we don’t go down at all. Miles, can you go through the drives and figure out which ones have the relevant data?”

  Miles shrugged and turned to face the other men. “Doubt it. More likely than not, they’re RAIDed in some fashion, so if we pull one drive out of an array it’s not going to be able to have access to all the information. The data will read like junk.” He chewed on his lower lip and tried to think of another option, but failed. “No, our best bet is to grab the server blade from downstairs and install it in these racks. Then I can authenticate and we’re in.” I hope. Given that someone had put the entire system together without his former department’s knowledge or input, would it even accept his administrator credentials? One problem at a time.

  “So we’re back to square one, then,” Ross said. “Suggestions?”

  “Could set up the hi-frequency transmitter. Radio back to base, see if they can top off the Black Hawk, and send us some more climbing gear.” Janacek offered.

  “Possible,” Ross said. “Chief?”

  The other man just grunted. That must have been Chief-speak for ‘give me a minute’, because the other two SEALs fell silent.

  Miles turned back to the wall of electronics in the back of the room and tried not to think about the topic of conversation. The thought of hanging hundreds of feet in the air left him cold with a tight feeling in the pit of his stomach. But what other choice did they have?

  The builder of this room had run and labeled the conduits and equipment with a precision that warmed him to the depths of his obsessive-compulsive heart. There was just something satisfying about neatly-arranged cabling. When he’d first started, the server rooms had been a mess with bundles of cable going every which way without rhyme or reason. Over time, as they replaced or upgraded equipment, they’d arranged the cabling throughout the building in a more orderly fashion. Maybe it hadn’t made things work any better, but it gave him a subtle sense of satisfaction every time he badged his way through the door.

  He hadn’t had anything to do with the layout of the elevator shack, of course, but whoever had been in charge must have shared some of the same sympathies. The wire feeds from the solar panels came into the room inside of a series of labeled PVC conduits, which terminated inside a cabinet full of equipment marked ‘inverters’. More conduits fed into a series of PowerWall units further down the chain. The conduit containing the combined, regulated output of the panels traced over to the corner nearest the server room, then went down through the floor and into the room below. Miles followed that conduit around in a slow stroll. A workbench and pair of rolling tool cabinets divided the solar power equipment from the elevator motor. The arrangement didn’t look so much purposeful as it did an efficient use of coincidental space. A wire shelving unit to one side of the workbench held lengths of heavy electrical cable. Replacement parts, I guess.

  Miles stopped pacing. He looked at the lengths of cable on the shelves, then at the outputs. “Guys,” he announced. “I’ve got a better idea.”

  Getting down to ground level was becoming a habit.

  Pete frowned as he pulled open the door and stepped inside the clinic. He’d never liked hospitals, much. Their smell became unbearable after his accident. On the bright side, the commercial cleansers that lent that particular nasty scent were not present here. They didn’t have any. There was the slight scent of sickness in the air, but it wasn’t overpowering. There was enough ventilation built in that fresh air carried most of the smell away. If he closed his eyes, Pete could almost pretend that this wasn’t a hospital. Almost.

  In the office, a curly-haired brunette raised her head and blinked bleary eyes at him. He smiled. “Hey, Frannie. Where’s Larry?”

  She pointed to his right and laid her head down on her crossed arms. Poor kid. He was feeling exhausted himself, but at least he was acclimated to it. Up until recently, the clinic had been a pretty slow building. Now, unless he missed his guess, the place was almost overflowing.

  He stepped into the right half of the clinic. He was most familiar with the exam room, but he’d never seen a patient on a cot in there. They were overflowing. Pete studied an oblivious Carter Burke for a moment, then shrugged. He hoped the other man pulled through — maybe he’d seen something that Pete hadn’t been able to.

  Last night’s events had left him frantic. He’d kept an eye on the motor pool as best as he could while trying to maintain observation of the woods. When everything went to hell, he froze with indecision. Should he keep watch inside the community, in case he saw something that Larry and his boys didn’t, or should he make sure that Murphy’s Law didn’t choose that moment to kick them in the teeth? In the end, he’d settled for switching back and forth as fast as he could. Amazingly enough, the zombies outside of the wire hadn’t even seemed to notice the hubbub going on. They’d been as still as statues every time Pete flicked the night-vision back over to them.

  As far as what had gone down in the motor pool and in front of the clinic, he’d seen a bit of the action, but not enough to identify anyone. The blaze of Larry’s flashlight whited out the night-vision. By the time he’d been able to adjust the intensity, the attacker who’d stabbed Larry and Carter was long gone, as was the visitor to the motor pool. Damn comedy of errors.

  “Pete,” Tish said from behind him, and he turned. A wan-looking man in a flannel shirt and blue jeans stood next to her. “I’m discharging Todd, here. Larry’s in the surgery suite.”

  He gave her a nod and turned away as she began to issue instructions. From the sound of the conditions she was laying out, Todd shouldn’t be released. But, as he’d noticed before, they needed the bed space.

  He stepped into the next room. A lone cot sat in the far corner. From the collection of equipment and rolling cabinets around it, he guessed the bed had made a severe impact on the normal flow of the room. Pete steeled his nerves and forced himself to look at his friend.

  He’d never seen Larry look so drawn; he looked like a literal shell of his former self. The weight of their combined years hit him all at once. With a muttered curse, Pete allowed himself to fall into the chair sitting beside the folding cot.

  “We’ve seen a lot of hard miles, Top,” he managed. “I daresay we’re closer to the end than the beginning.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Larry whispered, and opened his eyes. “I’m too damn pretty to die.” He looked at Pete for a long moment, then closed his eyes and groaned.

  Pete sighed and shook his head. “She didn’t tell me you were awake. You did a piss-poor job of instilling
proper manners into that girl.”

  Larry grinned. “I guess I’m a bad influence.” He tried to sit up, but grimaced and relaxed. “Damn. I feel like I went ten rounds with Rousey.”

  “Rousey’s zombie chow, but yeah, she’d still kick your ass,” Pete said agreeably.

  “Just because you’re an officer doesn’t mean I have to put up with your mouth. Make yourself useful and bring that water over here.”

  A plastic glass with a bending straw sat on one of the carts near the bed, and Pete held it while Larry took a few sips. “I hope you got a good look at the train that hit you, bud, because I couldn’t see shit.”

  The other man sighed and said, “Nope. Pretty sure the visitor to the motor pool was a dude. Our little poetry killer, I’m not so sure. Kind of on the short side.”

  “A dude, and a short man or woman. That’s something, at least. You sure the person who got you and Carter was the same one who killed Ronnie?”

  “Couple of knives got left behind. The one in my leg was nothing special, but Tish says the one that stuck Carter was a match for the one used to kill Ronnie.”

  “She told you all that, huh?”

  “I may have badgered her a bit,” Larry allowed. “Now that I’m awake she keeps coming back in here to keep me that way. I told her she might as well give me something to work over in my head.” He cracked an eyelid and stared Pete down. “I got something for you, Cap. Hang onto it so it doesn’t end up in the back of a locker in the warehouse.” He jerked a thumb toward the floor. Pete stooped down and looked under the bed. A shallow plastic pan held what seemed to be Larry’s personal effects. There were no pants; he supposed they’d cut them off to get to the wound. What there was, though . . . he raised an eyebrow.