The Shores Of The Dead: Omnibus Edition

by Josh Hilden

  3

  10:00pm EST

  “My name is Rudolph Clarke, and I am the First Speaker of the one true God.” The man in black said to the defenders and survivors of St. Theresa’s gathered around him in front of the church. “I have been given a mission by our Lord God, and I have chosen you brave souls to help me accomplish it. It is a hard mission full of much danger, but God only rewards those who serve him faithfully.”

  “What the fuck are you babbling about?” A heavily burned and bandaged man, a former City of Detroit Police Officer, asked. The man had a firm grip on an M-4 carbine, and while he wasn’t exactly pointing it at Rudy, it was not pointed away from him either.

  He ignored the question and plowed ahead as if never been interrupted. “God, through his holy angel, has given me the power to loose and bind the Risen Dead. They will do my bidding and the bidding of any I choose.” A murmur went through the ranks of the survivors. He continued on, “The enemies of God have blocked his light and love from the world. This is why the dead have risen. God is unable to stop them directly! I have been chosen as god’s agent on earth.” He pulled a long handled object from the folds of his trench coat and held it aloft for the group to see.

  “This is all bullshit!” The injured cop screamed. He leveled his rifle at the man in black’s chest and pulled the trigger. Three rounds flew through the air like angry hornets slamming into Rudolph Clarke’s chest. He made a surprised sound as they entered and then exited the back in a spray of blood and gore. He then dropped to the ground, a dark red puddle forming around his body.

  Moans ripped through the night and the horde of the Risen Dead began to once again advance on the defenders of St. Theresa’s. The living ran back to their various defensive positions, prepared to begin pouring on what firepower they had left.

  Adam picked up his carbine and began praying for a miracle, any miracle, to save them from the gruesome and humiliating deaths that awaited them. The first of the long range shooters positioned on the roof of the church began tearing into the hoard and they again seemed to replace every fallen rotting corpse with three more.

  He brought the front sights of his weapon up and took careful aim on the nearest of the Risen Dead. She appeared to be a housekeeper or maid from a hotel, and he could almost read the name on the badge she was wearing when his bullet took the top of her head off. She dropped to the pavement to be trampled under the feet of her stumbling comrades.

  Around the perimeter and through the radio mounted on his hip, he started hearing people say that they were out of ammunition. They were falling back to the church. They all knew that when they sealed themselves inside it would only be a matter of time before the Dead managed to batter their way through the makeshift barricades.

  He heard the bolt of his weapon click and he knew that he was out of ammo. He rose and was just about to sound the general retreat, when a soft and oddly amused voice spoke to him.

  “You know, Adam, that it is only a matter of time before they break their way into this now unconsecrated building and devour all of you.” Adam spun around and saw Rudolph Clarke watching him and the scene around him with what appeared to be a species of boredom.

  Adam dropped the now useless rifle and drew his sidearm in one motion, pointing the barrel at the man in black’s head.

  “The Lord God has made me strong, and I can heal from wounds that would lay low any man. But if you kill me, and I assure you that a bullet in the old noggin would kill even me, there will be no hope of saving those people in the church.” He giggled at the look of rage and fear on Adam’s face. Then he continued, “I need you Adam, I need you to lead my armies of the living that we will gather. I am not a military man and I need someone who understands how to fight and kill the living.”

  Adam looked at the advancing swarm that was within throwing distance of the church. Then he looked at the open front door of the building where the people he had been fighting side by side with were funneling in and preparing for their last stand. Inside the building were the families, the children that they were willing to die for. Now he wondered if they were willing to live under these conditions for them. He knew that this man was crazy, that it definitely was not the God that his grandmother had taught him about on her knee all those years ago that he and the other survivors would be serving if they chose to cling to the life preserver that Rudolph Clarke was offering.

  But he wanted to live.

  Adam nodded at Rudolph and lowered his weapon.

  Rudolph raised his left hand and the sea of Risen Dead stopped on a dime and became silent. Then he raised his right hand and Adam saw that what Rudy was holding looked like a branding iron with a glowing head.

  “Kneel before me Adam Baker, and receive the eternal blessing and favor of the Lord God.”

  Adam knelt. He shook with fear that he was unable to master.

  Rudolph brought the branding iron down touching the glowing head to Adam’s brow. He heard the sizzle of his flesh burning. He could smell it as well. But that was all masked by the pain. It was a pain greater than any he had ever imagined, it was as if he’d been doused in gasoline and lighted on fire. Then as quickly as it began it ended.

  “I name you Sir Adam, Right hand of the Speaker, and General of the Armies of God.” He pulled back the branding iron and stepped away from Adam. “Go forth my worthy servant and bring your people to me, so they may decide if they wish to have the love of the Lord God.”

  Adam stood. He felt strong and alert. His senses were heightened and the tiredness and pain he’d been suffering with all day left him. He strode toward the church to bring his people forth.

  On his forehead was the shimmering liquid crimson brand.

  Chapter Seven

  1

  Wright Patterson AFB (Air Force Base)

  Fairborn, Ohio (North of Dayton)

  October 18, 2012 AD (Day One)

  7:25pm EST

  Liam watched the President speak via the onboard satellite hookup. He wasn’t reassured by what the man said, or by the images being shown. It was all happening faster than he feared. He wondered if Nancy and Charlie had made it out of Southeastern Michigan before things really started to fall apart or if they’d been caught in the chaos. He tried but failed not to think about them being trapped. He hoped that Nancy would make the end quick for the two of them.

  He hadn’t slept a wink during the flight. After three stops to pick up essential personnel from across the Midwest, the transport was on final approach. Liam tried to sleep and not think about his daughter and grandson, but every time somebody new joined him in the passenger section of the plane he was regaled with new horror stories of what was happening.

  One FBI agent they picked up outside of Chicago told him a tale that would give him nightmares for the rest of his life. It was about what he and a team of Illinois state police found when they entered a children’s hospital that had stopped responding to communications. From the way the man was ranting Liam would have given even odds that he would eat the barrel of his gun before the day was over.

  As the plane overflew the base the people on board got a view of what was supposed to be a safe haven. Many of them had been in or near Haiti after the earthquake in 2010 helping with the rescue and aid projects. One of the people onboard remarked that Wright Patterson looked like the airport in Port Au Prince following that disaster. The first thing that occurred to Liam when he disembarked was that the base was a scene of nightmares and confusion. That impression grew exponentially worse as the day progressed and the scope of the crisis became clear to the general public.

  At first there were representatives of every branch of the federal government encamped in every open space. Wright Patterson was designated one of the official rally points for essential personnel in the continental United States. As the nightmare day progressed more and more civilians arrived looking for shelter and somebody to defend them.

  Director Hadley was already on the scene when Liam’s plane lan
ded. He dragged Liam into a temporary structure that was also to be used by Liam as temporary quarters for the duration of the emergency. Away from the hustle and bustle of the main areas of the base he gave a rundown of what was going on behind the scenes. Washington DC was imploding as they spoke. The secured connections to the nation’s capital showed that the Risen Dead were already in control of most of the city. If that wasn’t bad enough, military and civilian communications bands were revealing that most of the major metropolitan areas in the United States were in similar shape.

  Hadley pulled a tablet computer out of his shoulder bag and placed it on the folding table in front of him. Displayed on the screen were a series of maps. “These are the maps of the local area overlaid with real time surveillance feeds.” He said tapping the screen to bring up a satellite feed that showed Wright Patterson AFB. There seemed to be a crude wall around the facility that was moving like a wave.

  “Oh my God,” Liam said, realizing what he was seeing. Thousands, maybe tens of thousands, of the Risen Dead were ringing the base and pushing on the perimeter fencing.

  “I don’t think that God has anything to do with this,” Hadley said quietly. “We figure we have one maybe two days before the fence fails and those things flood in here and devour us.” His voice was as calm and controlled as ever. Liam could sense the fear underneath. “We are trying to get as many of the most essential people as possible to designated areas. I doubt that there is time to get even half of them out.” As he spoke a gigantic transport aircraft took off from a nearby runway heading toward some unknown island of safety.

  “Why are so many of them clustering here? There is an entire metropolitan area less than 20 miles from here. I would think that Dayton would be where they would congregate.” Liam sounded just as perplexed as he felt.

  “Refugees,” Hadley said and then continued, “They are heading here in vast numbers. They are also trying to get to the Springfield Air National Guard Base.” He shook his head and Liam knew that something bad was about to be imparted to him. “The poor bastards travel all the way to supposed safety because the TV tells them to do it, only to be greeted by an army of those things. The Ohio National Guard has been brought in, and they are doing a heroic job of keeping the main gates clear of the Dead, but eventually we are just going to be overwhelmed.”

  The shelter was quiet. In the background the sounds of distant automatic weapons fire filled the air. The shouts of “Get them to the fires,” echoed in the void.

  “There are almost a million people in the Miami Valley. Most of them are going to congregate at places that they believe are safe. This is the first place that most of the poor bastards will head for.” Gerald Hadley looked a decade older than he really was, and the sight of him so dejected and unsure of the situation filled Liam with a cold numbing fear.

  “What are we going to do boss?” Liam asked.

  “The President and most of the Joint Chiefs, Admiral Stuart is on the USS Abraham Lincoln, are safely ensconced at Cheyenne Mountain. We are supposed to join them there as soon as possible.”

  “Why at Cheyenne Mountain? The place has been mothballed.”

  “Most of it, but there is enough gear and supplies in permanent storage there to bring it back up to almost fully active status with very little effort. Besides, it might be the safest place in the country from these things unless they figure out how to start lobbing Nukes at us.” Gerald Hadley chuckled, and slipped the Tablet back into his bag. “Grab some chow and a nap Liam, it is going to be a busy day and you have just been promoted to Deputy Director of Operations.” There was no humor in the statement.

  Liam was stunned by the statement and it took him several seconds to respond. “What about Paulson?”

  “Rhonda never made it out of her neighborhood in Fort Meade. I sent a team to extract her, and they found her with her sidearm in her mouth and a bite wound on her arm.” Hadley sighed and withdrew a second tablet computer from his bag. “I’m serious Liam, the job is yours whether you want it or not. This is encrypted and has everything you need to do your job. We need our people moved to the staging areas, and then the redoubt, as fast as possible.” Without any further words Hadley left the shelter and Liam slumped down on the cot intended for him. He started reading the nightmare stream of information that was being routed to him. He wanted to cry as he played voyeur to the death of his country.

  2

  11:15pm EST

  It was the sounds of gunfire that awakened Liam from his fitful sleep. Not the intense dreams that had been plaguing him since shutting his eyes three hours ago.

  The distant pops and bangs were becoming part of the background noise of the base. This was really close and Liam was up like a shot. His combat reflexes that had lain dormant for so long coming back into action. He snatched his pistol up and grabbed his cane from the end of his cot before hurrying outside.

  The fires that were burning in downtown Dayton were clearly visible to the southwest. The black smoke obliterated any view of the night sky that might have been seen. Less than 20 yards away a team of civilian volunteers were dragging three corpses toward the bonfires that were burning on an unused runway. Liam approached a man in army fatigues and Sergeant Major’s chevrons to find out what was going on.

  “Sergeant what’s the sit rep?” He asked the man dropping effortlessly back into the military jargon.

  The older man responded to the tone without even turning to look at Liam, “Sir, a family lied about their injuries and reanimated here in the refugee camp. They attacked and bit half a dozen people before they were put down by the militia. I have to give the civvies credit sir, they responded quickly and shot everyone bitten without hesitating. If they made it all the way here through the shit that is going on out there they have to have guts already.” The Sergeant Major turned to look at Liam and realized that he had been talking to a civilian. The surprised look on his face amused Liam but he decided not to screw with the soldier.

  “Don’t worry Sergeant Major …?” He let the question hang.

  “Sanford, Clay Sanford, Ohio National Guard 12th Light Infantry Battalion.” There was reproach in the response and Liam approved. You did not become top kick without confidence.

  “Don’t worry Sergeant. I’m NSA Deputy Director of Operations Liam Harrison.” The new title felt phony on his lips, but the immediate respect it elicited was gratifying. “I am also a retired Ranger,” he added, which seemed to convince the Sergeant that he had not been fooled after all.

  “Sir, things are getting bad in the perimeter. We are getting more and more civilian refugees here. With every civvie that shows up there are five or six of those things that follow them.” He looked toward the fence line that was too far away to be seen. They could all hear the moans and the wails of the Dead under the sounds of the chaos of the base.

  “We need to hold it together as long as possible.” Liam said. He knew it sound lame as hell, but it was all he could think of.

  “I know sir, but they keep stripping troops from the base to go into the combat zones,” Liam shuddered when he heard that. It had only been 24 hours since the incidents at White River. Already the United States had become a Combat Zone. Sanford continued, “What happens when these things get enough numbers all around the perimeter and we don’t have enough troops to hold the line sir?”

  “I don’t know,” was all that Liam could say to the man. In the distance the gunshots and the moans continued.

  3

  11:55pm EST

  The chow line was long and Liam had no desire to stand there with the civilians waiting for watery soup and a refilled bottle of tap water. He felt a small twinge of guilt that quickly dissipated when he flashed his NSA badge. He was lead around behind the tents set up to feed the refugees and to a more permanent looking aluminum building with an armed man standing sentry at the door. He was allowed inside and saw that only soldiers and a scattering of well-dressed civilians were present. These civilians, like him, were gov
ernment employees to be evacuated to safe zones.

  “Liam, over here,” a tired and familiar voice called out. In the far corner, Liam saw Director Hadley and a half dozen others standing around a table and looking at papers that were scattered willy-nilly. The building was remarkably quiet, even though it was packed to the gunnels with sweaty men and women who were obviously taking a quick break between important duties.