Gravewalkers: Dying Time

by Richard T. Schrader

  Critias reciprocated, “And I won’t doubt the authenticity of your convictions anymore. I believe you have my best interests at heart.”

  “You will only doubt my orgasms,” she said with an amused sigh since she did have sympathy for him. “You have to admit that I put on a pretty good show.”

  “You do,” he confessed. “Just keep doing it for me and I’ll find ways to give you what you need. It might take me a while though. I’m no poet and all the flower shops are closed.”

  Despite the storm and the unpredictable winds, she got them airborne heading east. Their destination was that agricultural depot that they were familiar with from a prior visit. It was there that they planned to acquire more fuel of the diesel variety.

  Thoughts of his implied romantic gesture enraptured her, “You would really have written me a poem and bought me flowers? We will pretend you did and that is just as good for me. It is the thought that counts.”

  The foul weather didn’t stretch so far east as the depot. Carmen landed the plane on the country road amid a frightening slalom of telephone pole evasion. She finally taxied near to the agriculture storehouse as close as obstructions would allow.

  Critias jumped out the side door so he could shoot the small number of ghouls that came to investigate their landing. It was an opportunity for him to continue his evaluation of the MP5 that Carmen recommended. His new test took headshots at much longer ranges.

  The airplane had been both a spectacle in the sky and a loud recognizable noise that together attracted all the infected close enough to guess where the airplane came to rest. Ghouls in general were impressively gymnastic creatures. They had the cardiovascular endurance to put camels to shame. The important thing they lacked that cost them the most dearly was not having a realistic understanding of Critias’ weapons. If the infected could have actively dodged bullets as it were, they would have been tenfold harder to kill. As it was, they came straight at him in a head-forward run like proverbial Edgar Rice Burroughs’ bulls charging. They practically begged for a bullet to their brains.

  He had to admit that he started to like the gunpowder firearm that Carmen had given him. The weapon wasn’t entirely silent without subsonic ammunition to accompany it. The noise was equal to hard belt slaps, which was a tremendous difference compared to unsuppressed free fire. Having a silencer was more than worthwhile; it was essential.

  Carmen came out of the plane after she lowered the back ramp to walk down it. She watched him shoot a ghoul in the face and then predicting a lull in fresh targets she spoke, “I like the machinate engineering of this era. Incredible numbers of manhours and compounded experimentation went into perfecting their best antique devices. The gross performance usefulness of their designs is comparable to our own technology. I like all the clockwork complexity and combustion pressures; it’s positively Hephaestusian.”

  “Yes,” Critias agreed in as much as he could understand her. He could appreciate some of the old technology that did work just fine to get the job done. It was easy to like gunpowder firearms in the way that it was easy to like an intricately geared timepiece across any era. He said, “I think the word you are looking for is craftsmanship. You do have a refined taste for excellent things.” For him, the maschinenpistole was quite literally a comfortable automatic pistol. He had the mechsuit strength to support the weight. The heads up display integrated into his visor had a selection of software applications for enhanced aim, down either iron sights, a standard glass optical scope or even no sights at all just by making virtual tracer previous shot drift probabilities. He defined it, “This is a handy plinking weapon for calming them down.” Critias loaded a fresh magazine and then unfolded the composite stock so he could put it to his shoulder then fire with both hands as if the maschinenpistole was a carbine. With as many shots, he dropped three more ghouls as they came up the roadway while they were still well two-hundred meters out.

  Carmen walked over to the fuel island to hotwire the pumps to her portable generator. They would fill fuel drums, roll them over, and then hand pump then into the plane’s fuel tanks. Their work didn’t progress swiftly or efficiently, but fuel was plentiful and ghouls minimal so all went well enough. Once Carmen had transferred their fuel into the plane’s tanks, they loaded their filled drums into the back of the plane to have an emergency reserve.

  It was about ten in the morning by the time they had the work completed. Before they took off again, Critias radioed Jim to inform him on their progress. After letting him know they had the plane fully fueled and that they were about to depart for Houston, he went into another topic of interest, “We ran into a few Denver survivors at the airport by the plane. After one of them tried to gun me down, they went after Carmen with intent to cannibal rape her.”

  Jim assumed, “She killed them then?”

  Critias reported, “I shot one in the head then put the other two in an upside down car for the ghouls to scratch out at their convenience. By the way they were talking, I feel confident that if there were any other people from Denver, those assholes already murdered them for soup meat. The more I hear about the President and his slaughterhouse out west, the better a king you seem to be.”

  Jim dismissed that, “We will talk about that prick later.” He was already making plans about Denver and its Sodom depravity so they shared similar sentiments. “Both of you come back from Houston in one piece then flatter me in person. Everyone keeps asking for information, so keep us informed.”

  Critias warned, “Houston is a long way off so communication might be problematic.”

  “I can still talk to Kevin at that range by our inter-link,” Carmen revealed. “It won’t be any problem for me to relay all our communications.”

  “Carmen says she can talk through Kevin,” Critias told Jim. “We’ll keep you updated through him.”

  When they were both back in the plane and airborne, Critias asked her, “You and Kevin have been talking by android chat?” In the way she moved her eyes, he could tell Carmen thought something evasive.

  “Kevin has all his directives,” she answered elusively. “How perfidious toward you could he possibly be?”

  He wasn’t sure, “If that means devious, I guess not very much. Your ability to be that is another matter. They made you for war and all war is misrepresentation. I’m not as stupid as you seem to believe. I know that you don’t tell me even half of what’s going on in that mind of yours. I also know you can lie like a politician whenever it suits you. You only want the best for me, so I’m not worried. I’m just wondering what else I don’t know.”

  “Lots,” was her short but honest answer. “There are lots of things that I don’t tell you.”

  “If I must have secrets,” he reasoned, “I’m glad it’s you that keeps them. As my thank you gift, when I get back, I won’t go to Kevin then directly order him to tell a marshal every detail of your interactions.”

  Carmen eyed him in an effort to determine if that was a threat or a promise. Finally, she said, “The first man had his three wishes, yes.”

  Critias could tell when she spoke from her books so he played along, “What did he wish for?”

  “I don’t know what the first two were,” she continued, “but his third wish was for death. That’s how I got the paw.”

  He shrugged, “And that means?”

  She gave him a serious expression, “Be careful what you wish Kevin for because you might get it.”

  He relaxed because he knew he had already won, “Don’t you trust me not to?”

  She didn’t, “Of course I don’t think you would leave well enough alone. It’s human nature for you to pick at scabs even when it worsens your wounds.”

  He asked, “Would you find out if I did?”

  She looked at him as if he already knew that answer only to see his smile of great satisfaction. She had to ask, “What are you so pleased about?”

  He savored telling her, “I’ve never seen you so completely wrong before and I want to ta
ke the time to enjoy it. If you think I would use Kevin to circumvent you then you do have some screws loose just like he said. What is a woman without her secrets? I can get by without knowing your woman secrets. If you don’t want to tell me something then don’t tell me.”

  She considered his victorious argument for but an instant then dwelled at leisure on his attitude. His maintaining a masculine aloofness to her feminine trifles was especially alluring. In light of the displeasing revelations she had bombed him with already, Carmen would not cheat him out of his small victory. She spoke in a grumble to convey her seemingly begrudged capitulation, “Well, I still don’t have any screws.”

  Chapter 12: Where Eagles Call Home

  Critias napped through their flight to Houston. Carmen didn’t wake him until after they had arrived. She had already performed a thorough flyover where she examined all their potential landing strips, inspected the location of the Hale-Wellington Pharmaceuticals building, and then studied all the terrain between those locations because at some point they would have to cross it on the ground.

  By the light of early afternoon, Critias peered out a window to see just part of the vast density that was the city of Houston. He saw that good fortune was with them because the city seemed remarkably intact, as opposed to being a great black smudge of charred ruin that had resulted from a total wipeout by fire. Houston’s population had fallen to infected attack early on during the first days of Outbreak. The damage toll to humans had been total while the ghouls had left the buildings and infrastructure still standing. The engineers on the final days must have powered down their fuel refineries and other industrial plants. If those industries had otherwise exploded from lack of human supervision, a catastrophic fire would have swept over the city. He took the good condition as a favorable omen that things would go his way.

  To get their mission rolling, Critias asked Carmen, “Are we ready to land?”

  “We need to turn around and go home,” she advised sincerely. “This is an entirely hopeless proposition. We can’t land here.”

  Her lack of enthusiasm surprised him, “Are all the runways blocked up? I don’t see any fire damage. This seems ideal to me.”

  As though his cursory observations were only incidental, she informed him, “I could land at any of the strips that Kevin marked on our maps. As soon as we hit the ground, the infected are going to know it. There are no open roads leading to the building we need to reach. If we walked, it is a twenty-kilometer hike even if we could go in a straight line. The population per block density of this conurbation is especially bad. If we land then try to reach that building, you are surely going to die.”

  “You’re going to land here somewhere,” he assured her. “I suggest you get to it. You already told me what your priorities are, so we see things differently. I’m going to find that specimen by hell or high water, no matter what. If you have to land out in the badlands then we have to hike in for a week, then so be it, but we’re going. I know you won’t let me go alone, just as I know you would rather forget the specimen than return to Kevin without me.”

  “Aren’t you listening to me?” Her voice cracked with emotion, “It’s hopeless. We don’t carry enough ammunition even if every bullet killed ten ghouls. As soon as the fighting starts, they’ll keep coming and coming. There’s no chance of us getting the car through. Its noise would stir up the ghouls in record numbers and we’ll be stuck at dead ends every few turns. Even all that is assuming we’re lucky enough to avoid any hunters. Just one of those at home nearly broke our backs.”

  He didn’t want to argue about any of that since he was still going regardless of how thoroughly she detailed the risks. “Then you’ll be highly motivated to make this work so I stay alive, or you can stay in the plane waiting for me to get back.”

  “Why are you being so stubborn?” She pleaded, “What makes you think you have any chance at all?”

  If she were not an android, Critias would have thought her to be on the verge of tears. “I have more than just a chance. I know I can do it because I already did it. How could I have already brought it home in a future me if it was also impossible for me here and now?”

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. “How is it that you came back as,” she paused, “as him. I’m here with you now and you’re a pig-headed emotionally stunted idiot. I don’t believe you are that man of the future. I don’t know where that being, my beloved master came from, but I find it impossible to believe that he is some future evolution of ridiculous you. I should have stayed where I was by his side. My master would have found some way to stop the bioengineers from killing me.”

  Critias challenged her, “Then answer me this, if your beloved master is so wonderful, why would he come home and think a tempestuous bipedal gunship like you was something so special? In his time frame, his other you that came home with him will be the Carmen he knew. For all you know, we both have replacements that are better than we are.”

  She begged, “Let’s go home and tell Kevin that the ghouls destroyed the specimen. We can stay here in this time and be together. I swear to you that I’ll make you happy. You like it here. You like Jim, Fat Jack, and all the others. You have a more fulfilling life here than you do at home and so do I.”

  He refused, “My honor as a marshal is not something I will sell at any price, not even for you. Land the plane and let’s get this done.”

  Carmen was not ready to submit, “You are asking me to throw away our chance for a life here to help you ensure that my entire people become slaves to yours. I stand to lose everything in return for nothing.”

  He agreed with her to some degree, so he pledged, “When we go back, I promise I will free your people. Once we get home, in reward for what I bring, they will be prepared to grant me anything. I love you Carmen, but land the fucking plane.”

  She cheerfully accused him, “You only say you love me to get what you want.” Carmen banked the plane to bring them about for a proper alignment to make their landing. It was true; saying he loved her actually could coerce her into doing just about anything.

  “I said it out loud to get what I want,” he confessed. “That doesn’t make it a lie. You know when I lie. You can tell from ten different ways. I have done impossible things before, Carmen. It was usually by accident, but I have still gotten away with it. We can accomplish this. With you to help me, we can accomplish anything, even cheat the hangman.”

  When Carmen heard him suggest that they could cheat the future of its vendettas, she realized that was her goal. Her future’s vendetta demanded that she stay behind when Critias returned home. She couldn’t change the fact of history that she never returned with Critias to their lives in the future, nor was it her fate to endure the passing centuries as she waited alone, since in her own time she was unheard of in the recorded histories. She showed him one of the maps Kevin supplied, “We’re landing at this place. Do you have any idea where you want to park the plane?”

  He had other more immediate concerns than parking, “Can you fly with the ramp down?”

  She could, “This plane is capable of airdropping cargo with the ramp open, why?”

  He instructed, “Set us up for a bombing run then. I want to roll out one of those fuel drums and have it hit in this area,” he pointed his target out on the map. “I’ll rig some explosives onto a drum and we can set this whole grassy area aflame. All that fire and smoke should lure most of the ghouls away, and then we land over here,” he pointed out where Kevin had marked some circles and labeled them as a landing field for helicopters that had belonged to the city police.

  “What makes you think that there are functional helicopters there?” She was doubtful, “Surely someone would have taken the good ones to escape the city as it was dying.”

  “Perhaps,” he agreed with her logic, “but we’ll have a look all the same. Even if they are there, you might not be able to get one running after it has been sitting for so long.”

  She listened, “Assuming we c
an’t, then what?”

  “We walk,” he said. “Kevin would not give us bad maps so we can count on them being accurate. I think I see a way for us to get there. It won’t be pleasant, but that is the reason it should work.” He got up to go rig explosives on a fuel drum, “Give me a few minutes to get a drum ready, then open the ramp and tell me when to let it fly.”

  Carmen circled at altitude while he attached a small bomb and radio detonator on a fuel drum. Once he was ready, she lined up a bombing-run and lowered the rear ramp. She mentally calculated the factors involved to tell him the exact moment to drop the package.

  When Carmen gave the word, Critias rolled the barrel of diesel fuel out the cargo ramp so that it could fall to earth. He sent the triggering signal to the detonator just before the barrel struck the ground so that the airborne explosion rained flaming fuel oil across a long patch of tall grass that was like an island prairie between lanes of tarmac. Carmen wasted no time when she closed the ramp then repositioned the plane to land at the end of the airport well away from their rapidly spreading brushfire.

  “When we are on the ground,” he instructed, “shut everything down so we can just sit quietly for a while. I want to give the infected some time to take interest in our fire. When the flames chase all the vermin out of the grass, the ghouls will run after them. Once they are out of our hair we can use the side hatch to sneak over then check out those helicopters.”

  Carmen landed the plane with her usual reckless excellence then parked it among four other small planes along the side of the runway where they would blend in. As Critias had hoped, the fire lured the infected in that direction. The runways that surrounded the burning ground proved capable of containing the conflagration from spreading out of control. Dozens of infected came in to search among the planes, but their fixation to hunt for obviously edible creatures totally smothered any higher reasoning they might have possessed for investigating the aircraft, so those ghouls soon found the fire of greater interest then departed for that end of the airport.