The Dying of the Light (Book 2): Interval

by Jason Kristopher

  George was clearly pissed at the idea. As he should be, I thought. A former AEGIS operator betraying what is, essentially, the remaining sliver of the human race? Yeah, I’d be pretty pissed, too.

  “That little shit isn’t just the head of the military. Before they stopped transmitting last year, my sources told me that Governor Yarborough hadn’t been seen in years. That he’d holed up in his office and suite to run the bunker from there, like some sort of agoraphobic. Rumor had spread that he was ill, that he was confined to a wheelchair, that he was actually dead… all sorts of things.” He snorted. “Actually, I think that last one is true. I’m almost certain that Dagger has killed the governor and taken full control of the bunker. I don’t know what his plans are with this prion bomb, but it doesn’t matter. He needs to be stopped!” His fist slammed onto the table, making the whole surface jump.

  “So that’s the question, then,” said Shaw. “How do you dig out a guy who’s buried five hundred feet underground? And don’t forget, this Bunker Nine is likely full of people who are similar to Driebach. Hell, for all we know, that’s where Driebach comes from.”

  I sat back in my chair, trying to absorb the flood of new horrific information I’d just received. What in the bloody blue fuck do we do now?

  “Colonel Shaw to see you, sir,” said Sheila Hume, George’s assistant, as Shaw waited for the general’s response in the outer office.

  “Come on in, Bill,” came the voice.

  Maxwell stood as Shaw entered. “Get the door, will you?” Maxwell said.

  Shaw dutifully closed the door and shook the hand the general had offered.

  “Have a seat, Colonel. Thanks for coming,” Maxwell said.

  “It’s the least I could do, sir, after your people rescued us. Frankly, I never thought I’d see the States again. How’s Atkins doing, by the way? I haven’t seen him since we got here.”

  Maxwell laughed. “I’m sure he’s doing fine, since I haven’t seen my wife for more than a few minutes here and there, either. And she’s seven months pregnant! She shouldn’t be working as hard as she is…” He shook his head. “But that’s not what I asked you here to talk about.”

  Shaw sensed the seriousness in the general’s tone, and sat up a bit straighter. “Yes, sir.”

  “Colonel, have you thought about what you’ll do, now that you’re back?”

  “No, not really. Jennifer and I are still working through some things, and really, we just were focused on getting back, figuring everything else would take care of itself somehow.”

  “Well,” the general said, pausing briefly. “What if you were to work through those things here? At Bunker Seven?”

  “That sounds great, sir. I don’t know how long we’ll be staying, but we can certainly use some down time.”

  “You… you’re not getting what I’m saying, son.” Maxwell smiled and leaned forward, folding his arms on his desk. “What if you were to stay here? As in, permanently?”

  Shaw’s eyes widened. “Oh! I hadn’t really thought about it, but if you’ve got some room… I can always work in the hangar.”

  Maxwell shook his head again. “That’s… not exactly what I had in mind. You see, Colonel, I’m not in the best of health.” He smiled grimly, tapping his chest. “The ticker, they tell me. Not Mary,” he hastened to add. “She doesn’t know yet. Been trying to come up with a way to tell her, and don’t want to do it till the baby’s born.”

  “How bad is it?”

  “There’s a lot of medical gobbledegook that goes along with it, but basically, they said I’ve got anywhere from five to ten years left.”

  “Well, that had to be something of a relief, I imagine. You get that kind of news and you’re thinking six months, ten months?”

  “Yeah, that was it, but I’ve always been a pragmatic sort of guy. Thing is, we may or may not be out of the bunker by then. Depends on how things are shaping up outside, and who knows what will happen with this whole Dagger thing.”

  “So where do I come in, sir?”

  Maxwell leaned back and looked at the younger man once more. “I want you to take over from me when I’m gone. In the meantime, you’ll be my top man, learning the ropes of this place, the prickly people, etc. Our head of security just went a little bonkers recently and had to retire, so we’ll make you the new head for now.”

  “That’s a hell of an offer, sir.”

  “And not one you can take without discussing it with your wife.”

  “No, sir.”

  “Good man. There’s just one more thing, Colonel.”

  Shaw sighed. “I think I know what you’re going to say, sir.”

  “Oh? Do tell.”

  Shaw sat back against the chair, looking down at his hands, fumbling with his hat in his lap. “You want me to get some treatment for my PTSD.” When Maxwell didn’t respond, Shaw glanced up and saw the other man watching him. “I didn’t realize it was that bad.”

  “You wouldn’t, son,” said Maxwell. “That’s part of it. I know. I’ve been there.”

  “You, sir?”

  Maxwell snorted. “You think anyone is right in the head after they see a walker the first time? I was in therapy for months after our first few sorties against them.”

  “I find that… well, rather hard to believe, sir.”

  “So did I. But I got through it, and so will you. Lemme guess: hard time sleeping, bad dreams… loud noises and crowds make your skin itch?”

  Shaw closed his mouth with a snap. “You have gone through it, then.”

  “Hell, kid, I was your age the first time I went up against them, and I had my whole unit with me. Almost all of them died, just like yours, but I wasn’t stuck there alone for six years. I can’t even begin to imagine what you went through.” He held up a hand as Shaw started to interrupt. “And I don’t want to know, either. None of my business.”

  He leaned forward on his crossed arms, looking intently at Shaw. “But none of my officers are going to go gonzo on the job. You get me? We’ve got some of the best shrinks left in the world here in this hole in the ground, and you will by God take advantage of them. Clear?”

  Shaw swallowed. This is going to be one hell of a job, he thought. “Yes, sir. Absolutely, sir.” He chuckled. “I don’t think Jenny would let me skip out on it anyway.”

  “Well, then, it’s settled. Barring your conversation with the wife, of course.” Maxwell stood up and held out his hand again. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you to keep this just between us, but I will anyway.”

  Shaw shook the general’s hand and nodded. “No, sir. And of course, sir. I’ll talk to Jenny tonight, and have an answer for you soon.”

  The general escorted Shaw to the door.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  I almost didn’t want to leave, but the C-5 was all fueled and ready, and I had a baby girl to meet, even if she was still tucked safely away inside her mom. The goodbyes were sad this time, too, as many of the survivors were also staying behind at Bunker Seven or already winging their way to Bunker Eight with Captain Anderson. The rest were coming back with us, and the plane was going to feel mighty empty.

  At least this time we’ll have bunks and seats to ourselves, I thought.

  Anderson had left a few moments before, the 767 making its final flight to Austin. I’d tried to recruit Mahoney from his team, but the mechanic had no interest in living in ‘the frozen North,’ despite my pleading. Archer had gone with them, leaving me and Myers behind to fly the C-5, since Shaw was remaining here. He’d spent the last few days taking us through everything we’d learned while flying it down to McMurdo and back, and while I felt reasonably confident, I was sure it wasn’t going to be easy.

  Everyone else had had their turn, and now it was time for me to shake hands and give out hugs. Mary held on tight, eventually letting me go with a promise to contact her immediately when we arrived. She had also stuffed several books and what felt like a ton of other baby supplies in my bag. I smiled and agreed
to everything she said, which I had found made the process a lot smoother.

  I was glad to see that Jennifer and Bill Shaw had, at least publicly, made up. I could see that they loved each other, and had encouraged them to try to work it out, as much as possible without being nosy. Shaw gripped my hand tight when it came to his turn.

  “Thank you, David. From both of us,” he said, putting an arm around Jennifer. “I’ve got a second chance. I won’t waste it.”

  Jennifer stood on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on my cheek and give me a strong hug. “Thanks for bringing him back to me.”

  “A lot of other people helped, but you’re welcome. I’m glad you guys are settling in. Other than Bunker One, of course, I can’t imagine a better place to be.” I turned to George, and stuck out a hand. “It was good to see you again, sir. It’s been too long.”

  Maxwell smiled and shook my hand. “That is has, son. Not like this world gives us much chance for vacations anymore, though. You take care of that girl of yours, now. Both of ‘em.” There was a sadness in his eyes that I couldn’t explain, and I would’ve asked, but I was interrupted by the radio.

  “You girls gonna talk all day out there, or are we gonna fly?” Reynolds waved from the plane’s ramp. “We’re ready over here, whenever you are.”

  “Roger, asshat. I’ll be there in a minute.” I shook my head and turned back to the general. “I will, sir. And you take care of yours.” I jerked my head in Mary’s direction, and he smiled, again with the hint of sadness.

  “I will. Now go, before they come get you. All my love to Kim and the baby.”

  I watched from the cargo bay as the tail came down, and waved. I was going to miss them. But now was the time to focus on my own life. I yawned as I climbed the aft ladder, walking through the passenger compartment which, for the first time, wasn’t packed wall-to-wall with people. As I took my seat as co-pilot, I looked out at the dawn just coming up and my friends.

  “Let’s go home.”

  I stretched as I came back from the galley, my stomach rumbling. I’d gone looking for some food, but had come up empty. There was nothing left, and I couldn’t wait to get home and get something to eat. Amongst other things.

  We had started our descent at Joint Base Lewis-McChord in Washington, and were coming in for a pass over the airstrip before landing, as we’d learned to do from prior experience. There was a low whistle, and I turned to see Tom looking out one of the windows in the passenger compartment. Joining him, I couldn’t help but echo his reaction when he pointed.

  From this height, it was difficult to make out details, but it looked like the entire population of Seattle was outside Bunker One, trying to get in. “Holy shit!” I said eloquently, and raced for my seat. I picked up my headset and pointed at Gaines. “Get me the bunker!”

  He nodded, typing in the commands we’d all been taught by Myers, and a moment later I was in contact with the bunker.

  “Kim, it’s David. We just started our descent, and I saw what’s going on outside. What’s the situation?”

  She sounded more stressed than I’d ever heard. “It’s him again, David. We’ve never had this many come at us before. We’re getting down to the wire with ammo for the sentry guns, and their barrels are starting to redline from the heat. If the fence doesn’t hold, we’ll be fighting them at the doors. And David, they’ve got explosives.”

  “Grenades, or are we talking C-4?”

  “Whatever it was took out a good chunk of the rockface. I think whoever threw it missed, but it would’ve been more than enough to take out the sentry gun. How soon can you be here?”

  I looked over at Myers, who nodded and took us into a steeper dive than he would’ve liked, clearly. There were some yelps from the back from people who weren’t properly belted in, but I heard Gaines bellowing for them to get settled and knew he’d take care of it. “We’ll be there as soon as we can get on the ground, babe. That Stryker still there?”

  “Yeah, and the Humvees. What about the survivors?”

  “They’re staying with the plane, with a minimal rear-guard.” I clenched a fist in impotent rage. “Dammit!”

  “I know you’re trying, David. You should know: Beoshane is here. We haven’t seen Driebach—”

  “Oh, he’s there. I’ve got some news about him, about a lot of things, actually. It’s too much to go into ov—”

  A new alarm went off in the bunker. “David, I—”

  “I need some help here, sir,” said Myers, struggling to turn the plane for final approach.

  “Me, too, Kim. See you soon.” I grabbed the yoke, and we made the turn, ready to land the plane for what I hoped would be the last time, at least for me. I was done with flying. “All right, Sergeant. Let’s land this bitch. We’ve got a bunker to save.”

  The survivors surprised us when we told them they were staying behind with a couple of guards. Most of them immediately objected, asking how they could help, asking for a gun, saying they wanted to do something, anything.

  Marcie Thompson, one of the few survivors with us that that I actually knew, took the lead for the group. Fire was in her eyes when she spoke. “Give us guns, sir. Sticks, torches, shovels, anything. We’ll have at them. It’s the least we can do for you saving us.”

  I turned to Gaines, standing nearby. “Gunny?”

  He just shrugged. “We don’t have time to debate it. They’re adults.”

  Marcie nodded, as though the matter was decided, and winked at Gaines, who flushed. “I’m… I’m gonna go help Tom.”

  Marcie laughed as the gunnery sergeant ran off to help get things organized.

  I shook my head. “That’s really not nice.”

  “Oh, pish, I was just playing with him.”

  “His fiancée died. She was bitten.”

  The look of horror on Marcie’s face was absolute, and she covered her mouth with her hand.

  “I don’t say that to be mean, just to make you aware of the situation. Take it easy. He’s a good guy, but… well, he’s had it rough.”

  Marcie nodded. “Right.” She composed herself quickly, given the situation. “So where do you want us?” The crowd flowed out of the plane behind her, and I was amazed. They all wanted to help, and boy could we use it.

  I raised my voice to carry over the murmurs of the crowd. “Anyone who wants to help, follow me. Anyone who doesn’t, get back inside with Sergeants Myers and Worthington and secure the plane.”

  I trooped off to the building that the Bunker One teams had converted to a garage, and had a second shock. There was our Stryker, a little dented and scratched, but serviceable, and no less than twelve Humvees, prepped and ready. Reynolds came up at my approach, a bit googly-eyed at my following.

  “So these are the reinforcements Dalton was talking about?” he asked.

  “Yep. What can we give them?”

  “As luck—or, rather, good planning on your wife’s part—would have it, we can give them just about everything.” He raised his voice. “Those of you with firearms training or combat experience, follow me. Those without, see Sergeant Gaines over there!” He pointed off to the side, and about two-thirds of the group split off. The others crowded around. Reynolds looked at me. “We’ve got enough rifles for these folks, but I’d like to have some of them on the .50’s, too,” he said, pointing at the large machine guns mounted to the top of the Humvees. “You’re in the Stryker, sir, colonel’s orders.”

  “You’ve been in contact with the bunker?”

  “Just moments ago when we started up the Stryker.” He lowered his voice. “It’s bad.”

  I nodded and yelled once more. “Let’s move, people!”

  Our column of vehicles raced through the overgrown and shattered streets of Lakewood, Parkland, Spanaway and all the other small towns between us and the bunker. With the Stryker in the lead, we barely slowed down for debris in the road, knocking it to the side and clearing a path for the following Humvees. At one point, the zealots had apparently erected a
barricade across the road, built out of the trash and debris that had been lying in the street.

  Gaines never took his foot off the accelerator, and we crashed through the thin wood-and-trash structure, the various pieces and parts of the barricade flying into the air. Marcie told me later that she’d had to duck as the remnants of a toilet crashed onto the metal roof of her Humvee, the first in line. I didn’t see it at the time, but I believed her. The streets were a mess. It wasn’t just trash, either. I saw more than a few walkers moving after us, moaning and clawing at empty air as we zipped past.

  As we took the final turn onto the access road to the bunker, I hit the radio. “All right folks, this is gonna be messy. These people are crazy, and will kill you as soon as they see you. Don’t give them the chance. You see someone that’s not one of us, you shoot, and you shoot to kill. Above all, stay in your vehicles. They are your armor, your salvation. Do not leave the vehicle for any reason, even to save someone else. God help us all.”

  “Almost there,” said Gaines.

  “Lock and load, survivors.” I activated the Stryker’s weapons systems, setting them to track targets not in vehicles. The automated systems —heavily modified versions of the previous REAPR system—were some of the most ruthless killing machines I’d ever seen. The M2 Browning machine gun, the primary weapon for the Strykers, had an effective range of two thousand yards and rate of fire upwards of seven hundred rounds per minute. They could turn virtually any enemy force into soup in seconds, and our AEGIS Strykers had four of them.

  I almost felt sorry for the zealots. Almost.

  “Contact!” said Gaines. At the same time, I heard the motors of the guns above me activate, swinging their deadly muzzles to target. I looked at the monitors, and saw the moment when the big guns began to fire at the rear line of the zealots’ vehicles. The noise was deafening, even through our ear protection, and the explosions…

  The four guns chewed through people and the vehicles behind them alike, with merciless utility. I shuddered as I watched them track up the mountain as we climbed the road, the Stryker pushing the burning remains of the various trucks, cars, jeeps, and other vehicles out of the way. Or, in some cases, merely climbing over them. Built like a tank—which was just how we were using it—the thirty-six-thousand-pound Infantry Combat Vehicle merely viewed the burning wrecks as alternate terrain.