The Shores Of The Dead: Omnibus Edition

by Josh Hilden

  A pimply faced young Airman ran into the room and saw the General with his head thrown back. The look on the kids face, and the M-4 in his hand that was wavering from side to side solidified Liam’s mind. Later, he would wonder what the hell possessed him to take the next step, but in the moment he was flying on instinct.

  “Airman, lower your weapon before you hurt somebody!” It came out in the same gruff commanding voice that tricked Sergeant Major Sanford. The young man immediately lowered the muzzle of his rifle and came to attention. “I am NSA Deputy Director of Operations William Christopher Harrison, and I am assuming command of this installation for the duration.” He said it all quickly, not giving the young soldier the chance to react. “I need you to gather the following people,” He rattled off a list of names, “Have them meet me here ASAP. After you do that, send someone up here to take care of the General’s body, and the body of the Colonel out in the hallway. But first have that fucking siren silenced right now!”

  The Airman saluted and hurried out the door. When he had left, Liam walked over to the General and removed the Satellite phone from his pocket. There was a lot that was going to have to be done and very little time to do it.

  3

  Ammunition was becoming scarce for the defenders who were strung out in an ever thinning line along the base’s perimeter. The Dead continued to press against them. Every time they repelled an assault they lost precious resources that they would not be able to replenish.

  Tanker trucks were brought to the points of egress where the soldiers, and the civilians who volunteered to bolster their ranks, began spraying down the masses of Risen Dead and then lighting them on fire. It was smelly, dirty work that scarred the people that performed the duty for the rest of their days, but it bought them a little more time.

  The rain that had begun to blanket the area had no effect on the infernos.

  4

  8:20 pm EST

  Sergeant Major Clay Sanford, Dr. Jason Aten, and the few members of the base’s surviving command staff that could be located, gathered in the former General’s office. Liam relayed what General Francis told him before he killed himself. Then, after giving them only 30 seconds to let that sink in, he told them what he intended to do.

  “We need to clear everyone off of this base before the perimeter collapses,” He turned his attention on a young National Guard Major who was the senior Army Officer on the base. “Major, how long do you believe that you and your people will be able to keep the Dead from overrunning us?” There it was, out there for all of them to look at and accept. The Dead were going to take this installation, and the only variable was how long the depleted forces could hold their positions.

  “Eight, maybe 10 hours Sir.” The Major said without hesitation, he’d been considering this for a while now.

  “Alright then, the most important thing for us to do is provide an exit for the civilians. We need to make sure that as many of them get out as possible.” He looked at the small group of over-stretched men and women to see if there were any dissenting opinions. When he was sure there were not he continued. “I don’t believe that we will be able to get all of them out, but we should try to get as many out as possible.”

  “What about us, General?” Clay Sanford asked, “I agree that we need to get as many of the civvies out as we can. But there are still quite a few soldiers here, most of whom brought their families with them. We can’t ask them to commit suicide.”

  Liam hesitated for a second to consider if he should argue the General title that Sanford had just pinned on him, but decided to let it go till later. By the time he decided to put an end to it, he would find that it was too late and the unofficial rank had stuck. Instead he answered the big man’s question, “That brings me to the other part of my plan. This base has been declared lost by the government. Nobody is coming for us, we are on our own.”

  The shock was palatable.

  Even in this crisis, security concerns made him hesitate for a second before continuing, “When all of this started, I was stationed at a Top Secret Facility in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. The commander there is an old friend of mine, and when I was enroute here I broke protocol and informed my daughter of what was going on and sent her there. I plan to leave here at the last possible minute and head north. Anyone that wants to is welcome to come with me.”

  Sanford didn’t wait for anyone else to respond, “My wife and daughter are here with me General. We’re coming with you.” Liam thought for a second that he saw relief on the rawboned man’s face.

  “In that case, Sergeant, I want you to begin gathering supplies and transportation for us, and sound out people that you think would be interested and that we might be able to trust. I don’t think this is going to be a walk in the park.”

  The big man nodded, took a battered spiral notebook from his pocket, and began to write.

  “What about the rest of you?” He asked the rest of the assembled personnel.

  The base staff all seemed to have other ideas of what they were going to do. Considering that they all lived in the area with their families, and that most of them had friends here, he really couldn’t blame them for being reluctant to abandon the valley. Although he privately thought that they were fighting for a lost cause. He wished them luck and dismissed them to carry out the preparations for the evacuation.

  “Dr. Aten, could you stay for a minute?” He asked the tall lanky man. When everyone had left, he shut the door and gestured for him to sit down.

  “What can I do for you, Director?” He asked Liam. The use of Liam’s official title was a respectful and welcomed counterpoint to Liam’s use of the man’s honorific, as opposed to his Air Force rank.

  “You were quiet during the discussion Doctor. I would like to know what your plans are.” Liam didn’t want to seem over eager, but he felt that the man would be damn useful, and not just because he was a trained Trauma Surgeon.

  “My wife was supposed to join me here on the base when all of this started.” There was a thickness to his voice as he spoke. “She never arrived so I began calling her cell phone over and over, but there was no answer the few time that I could get a connection. Then two hours ago I called again and a man answered the phone, he told me that he had found it in the pocket of a dead woman.” Now silent tears flowed down his face.

  “I’m sorry Jason.” Liam said, there wasn’t anything else he could say.

  “I thought about just ending it, putting my side arm in my mouth and making sure that I didn’t get back up. But Molly wouldn’t have wanted me to do that, in fact if she is up there looking down on me then she’s righteously pissed that I even thought about it.” A shadow of a smile ghosted over the man’s face.

  “Come with us Doctor, there is still a lot of good that you can do in this world.” Liam said.

  “Alright General, I’ll come.” He replied.

  “I am not a General,” Liam said with a little irritation.

  “I think you are now, Sir.” Dr. Aten said, and snapped a crisp salute before leaving the office to make his preparations.

  5

  11:55pm EST

  The thunderstorm that started earlier in the evening were worse instead of better in the following hours. Then the base’s connection to the local power grid was cut, forcing them to work off of generators. The announcement that the base was being abandoned was greeted with shock and anger by the assembled refugees. There were sporadic outbreaks of violence that were put down quickly before they spread. Explanations that they were almost out of ammunition and that they were completely out of food and medical supplies with no resupply coming served to mollify the worst of the anger.

  The gates were cleared and then opened to allow a steady stream of refugees to leave the base and seek safety elsewhere. This group, of course, ran into the people that were trying to get to the base and the Risen Dead that were following them. Continual radio and television broadcasts from the base’s communications center informed the gene
ral public of the valley that Wright Patterson Air Force Base was no longer a safe haven.

  To avoid it at all costs.

  Some of the groups within the perimeter refused to leave, and instead occupied and fortified the hangers and the other buildings spread out across the vast installation. One “Good Old Boy” in a pickup truck informed everyone that would listen to him that he was going to find the mythical Hanger 18, and “Kill me a Martian!” When Liam heard this, he silently wished the man well.

  It made as much sense as anything else that was going on today.

  As more and more of the trained and untrained defenders abandoned their posts, the numbers of the Dead outside the base grew. Their wails and moans were now audible over the noise of the storm and the people. Fear was beginning to spread among the living like a grass fire.

  Sergeant Major Clayton “Clay” Sanford made sure that his family was safely inside the hanger he’d chosen. He would assemble the group heading North with the man he thought of as General Harrison. Once he knew that Marie and the kids were safe, he gathered the men and material that he earmarked for the expedition. Almost to a man, the people he approached jumped at the opportunity to leave the base and head north. None of them had a better idea, and almost all of them had family and friends that they wanted to get to safety.

  Sanford was far from a stupid man. He had a Master’s degree and taught American History at Wright State University. His time in the regular Army paid for his education. He’d always seen his Guard service as his duty to his nation. Now he was glad that it would allow him to escape the hellhole that used to be his home, although he did feel a little guilty about abandoning all of these people. Marie had put it best when she told him in her oh-so-cute Texas twang, “You can’t help anyone if you’re dead.”

  He’d met Marie when he was part of the Regular Army and stationed at Fort Hood Texas. She’d been a Kindergarten Teacher in El Paso and they had met through mutual friends. At first, he was intimidated by her educated way of talking and her confidence. He was just a dumb hillbilly from the mountains of North Carolina, and had never been anywhere bigger than Asheville before joining the Army.

  They married and when he’d shipped out to Iraq in 2003, she moved herself and their two children to her Aunt’s house in Springfield, Ohio. When he’d finally been discharged from the Army, he’d returned to Springfield, to the beautiful home she had bought, and had finished getting his Master’s Degree. He joined up with the Ohio National guard over a year ago, and now here he was, back in the combat zone.

  “I know that Marie, but it still don’t feel right.” He wanted a smoke. He’d quit three years ago and didn’t want to start back up.

  She stopped him with her small but deceptively strong hands, and slipped them around his thick neck. She planted a soft kiss on his cheek and hugged him tight. “We have to do what’s best for us and the children. Everything else has to come second.” Despite the constant pillar of strength disposition he cultivated in the army, she knew that he was close to the breaking point. “You are a good man Clay, and God knows that you don’t want anyone to die, but people are dying all around us and we have to do the best we can.”

  He hugged her tight. It might be more accurate to say that he clung to her and drew strength from her. As they embraced, the various people that Clay invited to join them began to trickle into the hanger. He squeezed her tightly one last time. Then he turned to the mix of soldiers and civilians.

  “Welcome, as most of you already know, I am Sergeant Major Clayton Sanford of the United States Army. This base is about to be overrun by the Dead. Command of this facility has been assumed by General Harrison.” These people had already heard and absorbed this information through the ad hoc grapevine that had sprung up. Clay was a believer in getting all of the cards on the table. “What you are joining is NOT a group of deserters and highway men. We are still a duly authorized unit of the United States Military. We have simply been given a free hand on how to proceed during the current crisis.” This seemed to buoy the spirits of the assembled men and women, even if most of them suspected that it was not exactly true. “When the General is satisfied that everything that can be done to prolong the usefulness of this base has been done, we will be bugging out and heading north.”

  “What about everyone else?” A tired looking woman who probably had been extremely attractive before this all began asked. She was hefting the shotgun in her hands with real authority.

  “The fact of the matter is, that if we try to save everyone we won’t be able to save anyone.” He delivered that flatly, like he was addressing a company of soldiers.

  There was some muttering but nobody argued with him. They could all hear the wails and moans in the distance.

  “Alright people, we have packing and coordinating to do,” he gestured to the mix of vehicles and stacks of supplies he and the few men he had left had managed to procure, “Let’s get to it. Time’s a wasting.”

  They all fell to the job. Time wasn’t just wasting, it was almost up, and they all knew it.

  6

  October 21, 2012 AD (Day Four)

  3:10am EST

  The lighting was low courtesy of the backup generators. The room was uncomfortably hot despite the chilly wet weather outside. The feeling of defeat was so thick that it could almost be seen hovering in the air like some Victorian apparition. The murmur of voices was barely audible.

  “Ladies and gentlemen we have all done everything humanly possible to protect this facility.” Liam looked at the men and women that were still at their posts in the command and control room. On the LCD screen that dominated the room’s main wall, the view of Wright Patterson’s main gate was like something from a bad horror movie. The Risen Dead pushed and swayed against the reinforced fence, moving back and forth like a demonic wave on a dead sea. They watched as every push weakened the fence more and more. Despite all of the security upgrades that the base had received following September 11, it was about to be breached by an enemy that they could never have ever conceived.

  There was a sharp intake of breath from someone behind Liam as the fence finally fell and crashed to the ground. The Dead began to stumble and limp onto the interior. The resolution on the high definition cameras was excellent, and it allowed them to see every wound and every dead staring eye on all of the new occupants of Wright Patt.

  Nobody saw Airman 1st Class Patricia Clarke, as she drew the sidearm she’d been issued almost four days ago. She’d joined the Air Force to help pay for college and to get her out of poverty stricken Newark, New Jersey. She wondered for a second if her mother and her little brother were still alive, or if they had joined the legions of the Dead. That thought was quickly erased as she put the weapon against her head and pulled the trigger before she could stop herself.

  All heads whipped around to see her slide from the seat at the launch center communications console. It was a post that had actually become redundant when the base stopped launching aircraft.

  “Alright people that is one option,” Liam said gesturing to the young woman. “Your other options are to hide or run, I have made my decision and I wish all of you good luck.” He looked back at the screen, at the thousands of Dead that streamed through the fallen fence. “You have all performed admirably and have been a credit to your nation, but now I believe it is time that we got the hell out of dodge.” He saluted them and they all returned the salute, and then began to gather up the gear that they had all been carrying around for when the inevitable happened. They quickly said their goodbyes and made for the exits, some alone and some it tight groups.

  Liam walked over to the communications desk and opened a channel across all frequencies, “This is NSA Deputy Director Liam Harrison, acting base commander of Wright Patterson. The perimeter has fallen and the base is being abandoned. To all who can receive this message, good luck and god bless.” He turned off the unit, picked up his cane and headed for the doors.

  7

  3:30am ES
T

  Liam was met outside the command center by a hummer driven by a kid that might not even be old enough to have a learner’s permit. His wiry red hair was cropped close to his head, and rather large ears protruded like the handles of a jug. He turned to Liam as he got into the vehicle and said, “Acting Private Shane, Williams General!” He barked it and attempted a rough salute.

  “I’m no General son, and who the hell made you a Private?” He asked as he motioned for the youth to begin driving.