by Josh Hilden
Liam eased his way toward them, and when he finally reached them a tall balding man in an army medical corps uniform thrust an ice cold can of Coca Cola into his hands. Liam pulled the tab and drained half of the can in one long pull.
“Thank you,” he said to the man and then offered him his hand. “Liam Harrison” He said.
“Dr. Jason Aten,” the man said, pushing up his wire framed spectacles.
“Pleased to meet you Doc,” Liam said.
“I understand that we have a mutual friend,” Dr. Aten said as he took a drink from his own soda.
“We do?” Liam asked.
“Javier Santos, he was my CO in Iraq back in ’04.” He said quietly. He never took his eyes off of Liam.
“Javier was a good friend,” Liam said never casting his eyes down. If this man wanted to blame Liam for their friend’s death, Liam was going to set him straight. He waited to see what the Doctor would do.
“Did he die well?” Dr. Aten asked and this time his voice softened.
Liam hesitated, was it a good death? No death was really good. That was a myth that was perpetrated by the media. But Javier had gone out on his own terms. “Yes,” Liam said at last. “He died on his feet and after he passed on everything he could learn in the time he had left.”
“Good,” the Doctor said and then finished his soda.
When he was sure that the two men had said all they needed to say to one another, Director Hadley turned to Liam and spoke. “It’s getting pretty bad out there. The best estimates have the perimeter collapsing before noon tomorrow.” He shoved a Twinkie in his mouth while he allowed Liam to absorb that information.
“How many people will still be here on the base when that happens?” Liam asked.
“Thousands, maybe tens of thousands, the refugees are pouring in. And the Risen Dead are following them like hounds on the scent of a wounded rabbit.” Hadley sounded pissed at the civilians that were seeking safety here, but Liam understood the desire for the helpless to look to their leadership in times of crisis. Hadn’t he seen it all over Saigon in those final weeks before the withdrawal?
“It’s not going to matter soon, regardless of the numbers of walking corpses out there.” Dr. Aten said, “We are going to be completely out of food, water, medicine, and small arms ammunition before sunset tomorrow.” He shook his tired head. Liam thought that the man was on the very edge of exhaustion.
“We need to get on the next transports bound for Omaha, I’m sure that Offutt Field will hold a lot longer than Wright Patterson will.” The Chicago FBI agent who had flown in with Liam said.
“Only because they have mobilized every military unit in the area and have the base ringed. Here all we have is what National Guard troops could be scraped up and assembled.” A burly man with the eagle epaulets of a colonel pinned to his collar said.
“That may be, but we only have so many hours to ship as many essential personnel out of here before the fences come down.” The FBI man stated, and this time he had the beginnings of the same manic tone that Liam had heard on the transport. Liam was beginning to think that the man would try to take a few of them with him before he ate the barrel of that gun.
Sirens began to wail. The assembled men visibly winced. The only thing that the sirens were used for during the emergency was to let the people in the base know that the fighter bombers were making a run on the Risen Dead that were besieging them. In the distance the red and orange of napalm consuming the bodies of the dead could be seen all around. The bombardment went on for five minutes, and then the fighter bombers circled around for a landing.
“Not going to be able to do that too many more times.” The colonel said. He downed the concoction that he had been drinking. Liam caught a strong whiff of bourbon in the air. Then the man headed toward the doors. It was the last time that Liam saw him alive.
Hadley turned to him and said, “We have a lot of things to go over before the base falls Liam. We don’t have much time to do it.”
“Yes sir,” Liam said.
Liam was appalled to learn how many of their people were unaccounted for. The come home signal was sent out as soon as the director had been made aware of what was happening. Still less than 40 percent of the field agents had reported in, let alone actually reached a safe zone within the United States.
They worked for more than an hour and a half speaking through video, audio, and text to NSA personnel all over the world. The picture of the global situation that was being formed by these conversations was not good. Agents and associated personnel across the European Union were reporting that the confederation of nations was doing as badly as the United States. The Risen Dead already controlled all of the urban areas, and the governments of the member nations were overextended trying to save as many of the citizens as possible. The net result being that very few people were in fact being saved.
The one European exception was the nation of Switzerland. Harsh measures had been implemented in the first few hours of the emergency and all of the overland routes into and out of the mountain nation were sealed by the nation’s militia. Within the cities of Switzerland, the Risen Dead and the infected living were being hunted and put down as quickly as possible. The one thing that was threatening the integrity of what was being referred to as the “Swiss Wall” were refugees from neighboring countries who were attempting to enter the nation and threatening to overwhelm their ability to care for their own citizens. The few agents that were on station in the cities of Bern and Geneva were ordered to maintain their cover and post their reports on the secure NSA message boards as often as possible.
Communications out of Eastern Europe and Russia were fragmentary at best. None of the national governments had any real control in the cities. The farm lands were being overwhelmed with refugees and the Dead that were following them. Very few of the once numerous NSA agents in the area were reporting in. Those that were able to establish communications were updated on the current situation and given “Free Reign” as to their next moves. They had effectively been abandoned.
There was an eerie lack of any communications from Eastern Asia. The last reports uploaded by agents in the region spoke of massive troop buildups, and threats of war between North Korea, South Korea, Japan, and The People’s Republic of China. There’d been no recorded attempts from agents in the area to communicate with their command structure in more than 10 hours.
India was in utter collapse. The combination of the highest population density on earth and significant regional distrust allowed the world’s most populous democracy to implode in less than 12 hours. There were a few rumors being reported by surviving assets that a portion of the government and the military had headed for the High Ground of the Himalayas. The few agents left were ordered to attempt to reach this potential sanctuary at the top of the world.
Agents on the ground in the nations of Africa and South America were ordered to attempt to reach friendly forces or make it back to the United States. Barring this, they were told to use their best judgment and to try and survive.
If there was any sign that maybe the human race had a shot at survival it was in Australia and New Zealand. Reports from the island nations indicated that the governments still had firm control. That while the situation there was dicey but far from untenable. After a quick discussion Liam and Director Hadley made the unprecedented decision of ordering the agents in the two nations to reveal who they were, and to offer the Leaders of Australia and New Zealand all the help that they could, even if that help amounted to holding a rifle and standing guard duty.
After they finished the general housekeeping duties of giving orders to the agents in the field, Director Hadley established a secure communications connection with the new National Command Center in Colorado. After a few minutes of being shunted from one tech to another, he found himself talking to the Director of Homeland Security, Erin Kelly. She looked haggard and that was a shock to Liam, who had always found the slim dark haired woman rather sexy.
“Sorry the old man isn’t briefing you himself, but he finally allowed his wife to talk him into getting a nap. It’s really bad out there Gerald.” She said with no preamble. The two of them had been friends when they’d both been students at the University of Washington.
“How bad is it?” He asked.
“We’ve lost control of most of the country. The President actually considered using nuclear weapons on some of the major cities. The fear is that radiation poisoning will create more of the things than it eliminates so he decided to hold off. Also, the Vice President never made it out of Los Angeles.” The VP had been on a speaking tour at various public schools when the Dead had started rising. “He was on the tarmac at LAX when the Dead swarmed the airport. His pilot panicked and crashed the plane as he tried to take off.” She looked down at some papers that had been slid in front of her.
“What about our military assets?” Hadley asked.
She looked up from the papers and shook her head, “The Navy and the Coasties are relatively intact. They are doing what they can on the coasts. As far as the Army and the Air Force, most of our active duty troops and first line reserves were still deployed in the Middle East. We’ve lost communications with at least a third of them. The rest do not believe that they will be able to extract themselves from the area any time soon … if ever.”
“Fuck,” Liam said just loud enough to be heard.
Hadley looked irritated but Director Kelly smiled a little, “I would say Deputy Director Harrison, that “Fuck” is the most appropriate response to that news. In fact it is exactly what the President himself said.” Liam blinked at her words and she continued, “The President has approved your promotion Deputy Director Harrison, for all the good it will do you right now. But we have to try and maintain some aspects of the government, if we are ever going to get a handle on any of this.” Someone spoke to her from outside the view of her camera and she nodded to them before turning back to the NSA men, “Sorry that’s all the time I have right now. Gerald, as soon as you have ascertained that as many of your people are accounted for as you can, you are ordered by the President to report to him here in Cheyenne Mountain, you too Harrison.” And with that she was gone.
The screen was filled with the gaudy DHS logo.
“I guess that it’s time we arranged transport out of here.” Hadley said after the connection was terminated.
Liam didn’t say anything, he just looked down at his watch and wondered if Nancy and Charlie were safe and where they were. For the first time since his wife died, Liam Harrison prayed to a God that he had yet to forgive.
Chapter Eight
1
Toys “R” US
Miamisburg, Ohio (South of Dayton)
October 19, 2012 AD (Day Two)
2:35am EST
Bam … bam … bam!
The sound had been repeating itself for four hours and Kyle was sure that he was on the verge of madness. He was thankful that the pounding was coming from the far end of the room outside of his makeshift prison. Not the restroom door itself. Beside him on the cold floor, Benny breathed raggedly in and out. The swelling on the side of his head was sickeningly purple.
Kyle looked up from the corner he was sitting in and glanced at the laptop resting on the cracked and dingy pink tile floor off to his right. The mail icon was still reading zero and his instant messenger window was devoid of friends. It’d been almost two hours since he’d heard from anyone else online, and that person had been that asshat Martin. Martin was an old high school friend that Kyle and Benny had lost touch with more and more since graduation. He raved that they were pounding on the front and back doors of his house, and he wasn’t sure how long the doors would hold. He told Kyle he would brb, Be Right Back in computer speak. But he never returned.
He’d never liked Martin as much as Benny did, with his repository of endless blond jokes and the three day old smell of Cheetos and root beer that never seemed to leave him. Kyle hoped that they hadn’t got him, but they probably had.
He reached over and picked up the plastic Coca Cola bottle now filled with water from the restroom sink. He liked that the Coca Cola Company had gone back to the simple red and white label. He thought the metallic bubbles and lines looked like complete shit ever since they appeared on the bottles. He held the bottle to Benny’s lips and tilted it up carefully.
“Benny, man, you need to wake up, please.” He said as he attempted to hydrate his friend. He jumped a second later.
Bam … bam … bam!
He wanted to scream at Jackie. Scream that she needed to drag her fat ass over to the other side of the room where the emergency exit door was located, and push on the fucking bar on the door in order for it to open. But the last time he’d succumbed to that impulse she’d slouched her way back to the restrooms moaning and clawing at the walls and doors for over half an hour before she had returned to pounding on the door to the sales floor. The door you needed to pull not push open, of course since he’d locked it after Mel fled that didn’t matter. The moaning and the sound of her fingers scraping on steel and cinder block were worse than the constant banging in its own charming way. The irony was that Kyle found her less irritating and clingy than during the six months that they had dated.
When he admitted to himself that Benny still wasn’t going to drink he tipped back the tepid bottle of tap water himself. Drinking more out of reflex than any real thirst. The water stopped having that faint cola taste after three refills. The problem wasn’t water, the problem was food, and Kyle Jefferson Carson was soon going to be one hungry boy.
Having skipped breakfast following the results of his night’s binge drinking, he figured it’d been almost 30 hours since he’d had anything substantial to eat. He finished the Snickers bar in his backpack in the first hour and there had been nothing to eat since. The really maddening part was the knowledge that right outside the steel door was the Toys “R” Us breakroom and the myriad of vending machines and the refrigerator with all of its plastic containers and bags of food. Sure it was food that belonged to other people, but Kyle figured that those poor bastards were either dead or never coming back. And hadn’t he heard Carlos say that he had a slab of lasagna for lunch? It wasn’t like he was going to miss it. The thought made him snort like a five year old. Then his stomach cramped with hunger and the potential humor of his thought bled away. Jackie was still out there, possibly guarding the lasagna because she knew that Kyle was craving it worse than anything he’d ever desired in his life.
Why the fuck hadn’t he eaten before he came to work?
The hell of it was that he was still not sure he would be able to handle her if he grew some balls and went for it. He’d barely been able to handle her when she’d been alive. Like the night that he told her that he was breaking up with her and she started crying. Kyle tried to comfort her but that was a huge mistake. As soon as he put his arm on her shoulder, she whirled around and started screaming at him. He was an asshole, he was a moron, he was a skinny fucking four eyed kid, his dick was small, he was a lousy fuck, and the kicker … she only let him touch her because she felt sorry for him.
Every one of her shrill declarations was punctuated with a jab of her sausage like finger into his sternum. Those jabs were painful and they forced Kyle against the nearest wall. Like every other confrontation he’d had in his life, Kyle just stood there and took it for almost an hour before he’d been able to escape.
“Fuck,” he said as he hoisted himself up to refill the bottle. He looked in the mirror and was dismayed to see how much he’d deteriorated since this nightmare had started. His eyes were heavily shadowed and his sockets looked hollowed out. He also smelled pretty ripe but perhaps he could be forgiven for that.
He pointedly did not look at the drying spot on the front of his pants.
The swelling on his face where he’d been thrown into the wall when Carlos used him as a human shield was beginning to recede. But the bruise was an ugly purple and yello
w thing and he was convinced that the cheek bone was busted in at least three spots.
He wanted to cry, but he refused to give into that emotion.
There was a buzz from the floor and Kyle snapped his head around to see the flashing light and vibration of his cell phone. He had kept the Blackberry slaved to the laptop via the USB port, and the laptop was plugged into the single outlet in the employee restroom. “And let’s not even dwell on what will happen when the power finally goes out,” he said to himself. He knelt, scooped up the phone, and hit the talk button all in one quick motion.