by RW Krpoun
“Setting buildings on fire a distance away with the water to the sprinkler systems cut served us well last time. The infected like lights and sirens, so my plan was to rig two police cruisers and abandon them about a block from the target with full emergency gear going. They will be packed with explosives on a timer, improvised stuff but pretty effective. Lastly two teams in separate vehicles cruising around shooting infected. I figure two of my people and two of yours in the vehicles, and five going inside. In an enclosed area five should be able to throw out enough rounds to clear a hallway and get outside. Risky but do-able. Anybody else have a better idea, we’ll go with that.”
Strad studied the maps for a few minutes, glanced at Danny, then nodded. “OK. Doc and Phil on the bus, the rest with shotguns and rock salt. We sure the books are in place?”
“As sure as we can be without actually going in and checking. Last op I found two of three without wasting more’n a couple seconds looking, so I would rate the intel as solid.”
“We’re good on guns and gear,” Danny observed. “What else do we need?”
“The patrol cars-I know where they’re at. Some white gas and flares for the fires, and the makings for the payloads for the cars.”
“We can help with that,” Doc Kato observed.
“Maybe you should take one of us with you,” Key suggested as we piled into the truck to get two of the patrol cars I had noticed in my various travels. “We don’t know if these guys can be trusted in any particular.”
“That’s a good point, but it is exactly the reason I wanted the two of you in the truck: extraction is the biggest risk of the operation, and I want the ones I can count on in charge of getting me out.” That mollified her, and the compliment was noted by both. “While we’re on the subject, we need to discuss your future.”
Key sighed and Jake chuckled. “OK, Dad.”
I didn’t mind him calling me that; for a moment I wished they were my kids, except for the incestuous pairing that that world adjustment would create. They were smart, tough, capable, loyal-what parent wouldn’t want them? “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. In two or three days the infected are going to swarm, so we need to work out your future plans. The rescue business is a bust, and after the rivers launch infected-hunting isn’t going to be as intense as it has been. What do you guys plan to do?”
“What you going to do?” Key countered.
She was sharper than Jake. “Hit the infected while they form up-the military is posting their battle plans and encouraging Rescue Teams to harry the infected. After that, I’m going to head out and hook up with some other relics and defend the perimeter.”
“We could come with you,” Jake suggested, and Key nodded.
“No.” I put the Old Sarge back into that. “Look, that’s going to be a meat grinder. You two are young, you’ve got each other, you’ve got a future. Me, I’ve got a bum knee and a bad attitude. You guys are the ones who get the job of rebuilding and repopulating and all that.”
“Oh, yay, cranking out lots of little virus-fodder,” Key did a little cheer leader bounce and arm toss. “You think we’re really going to win this mess?”
“If by ‘win’, you mean ‘Humanity survives’, then sure, very likely. We survived the Black Plague and the Clinton Administration, so anything is possible.”
“I dunno,” Jake shook his head. “Some of the cities are going to fail to hold the Zones, and down south of the border the virus is completely free. Without factories to produce weapons and vehicles and fuel, we’re screwed. All it takes is one infected.”
“Plagues have been around forever. Without rapid transit, isolated communities aware of the threat can protect themselves. This isn’t a subtle disease.” It was ironic that I was preaching the positive side of things.
“So why aren’t you signing on for the brave new future?” Key asked. “Nobody can say you haven’t done your part.”
That wasn’t so easy. “Because…see, from where I stand, I have to be on the perimeter. You get older, change gets harder to do, big changes. And I’ve already been hit with a couple big ones.” For some reason I explained the House and the aftermath. “I have to do this. I have to see it through t the end”
“You’ve got a skill set that’s going to be in demand for a long time,” Jake observed loyally.
“Yeah. And I’m not really interested in dying, otherwise I wouldn’t have made it this far. But understand that all else aside I want to be on the front line when the river moves. My entire life has been wrapped up around the idea of duty first, shoulder the load, all that tired BS they feed you. In my mind I’ve never stopped being a soldier and a police officer. I can’t not do it. You two are smarter, and you’re flexible. Head out of the Zone and start a new life, or stay here and set up a home, but make plans. See an end to this, see the other side of it. Me, I’m going to do what I do best.”
“Because we are the future,” Key rolled her eyes.
“Because you have a future. You have options-me, I’m one of Pavlov’s dogs: I’ll limp to the sound of the guns whether they need me or not. Look, you two have followed me as well as anyone ever has, and I would trust you guys with anything. But I’m not going to lead you into this particular fire because that’s not where you need to be. You guys need to sit it out.” I was surprised at the urgency I heard in my own voice.
“We could help,” Jake knuckled an eye.
“Yeah, and you could get killed. Look, there always has to be a plan B. We can’t bet everything on one throw of the dice-even if we stop them here, like you said there are places that won’t hold. You two are going to be killing infected for the rest of your lives. Even if they develop an inoculation tomorrow it will take generations to kill the virus. Look how long it took to do in smallpox. The people we got out of the Zone, most are followers, herd animals. Half of them could have gotten out by themselves with a little thinking. A lot of the others who got out on their own have brains, but won’t fight unless absolutely forced, and even then some won’t. You two are special.”
“Is this fight special? The one in the Zone?” Key asked. “Why here? Like you said, we’ll be fighting the infected for generations.”
That was a good point. I sighed. “Look, what moves a person doesn’t always make sense to others. I led my team into the House, but they didn’t come out. My old agency went down without me being there. I can’t walk away-okay, I won’t. I’m not living with that hanging over my head-there’s too much already. At some point you just say enough. Besides, if we hold here a big chunk of Texas remains under government control-that’s something. If victory is possible, it is only possible as a nation.”
“You survived one massacre, missed another, so you have to take a front-row seat for a third?” Key was starting to sound like my ex.
“It makes more sense inside my head,” I grinned. “Maybe I’m still trying to impress my father-he was the real deal. Maybe I’ve watched too many John Wayne movies. Maybe I should have gotten counseling. Whatever. Thing is, I have to be there. What is right for me is wrong for you two, is my only point.”
“I think you are crazy,” Key shook her head like my ex had so many times in the past. “But I’ve seen you operate and you are definitely the ‘real deal’.” Jake grunted agreement.
That choked me up a bit. “Thanks. You two stand pretty damn tall yourselves.”
“It’s all just macho bullshit., though.” Women always have to have the last word. As a scarred veteran of decades of marriage, I wisely let her have it.
Chapter Fifteen
Doc Kato hadn’t been kidding when he said they could help. The Steel Hamster Entropy battle plan to engage infected was simple: they chose multi-lane streets as kill-zones, and they moved vehicles, dumpsters, and other heavy containers into position to slow, channel, and constrict the infected. Each vehicle or container would be packed with fougasse containers (gasoline thickened with liquid soap, poor man’s napalm), fertilizer explosives (a half-ton of the same stuff
had been used in Oklahoma against the Federal building), and propane cylinders.
The Hamsters would harry infected until they mobbed up and charged, then withdraw to the kill zone in beefed up golf carts; when the infected were bunched up in the kill zone they would blow it, wreaking havoc. They had it down to an art, frying a couple hundred infected each time, and they could set up eight to ten in a day. It wasn’t perfect-they had lost team members pulling the ambushes off, but their kill ratio had them staying the course. Given the nature of our enemy it was an excellent method, and while it wouldn’t break the river, it would certainly trim its numbers before it even formed. As I had told Ted, in this sort of fight it all came down to percentage points.
With six extra bodies the prep work took minimal time which was good becauss the Hamsters wanted to do the op and get back to blowing up infected as quickly as possible. I didn’t have any reason to delay either-time wasn’t on our side.
We pulled out all the stops on this operation, torching three buildings at widely separated points, doing a much better job of arson this time. The squad cars were positioned with multiple delay fuses, and we dumped a dozen audio baits around the edge of campus for good measure, not to mention the distraction vehicles rolling around shooting. By rights, there shouldn’t be a single infected within a city block of the target. Any Human commander would never fall for so obvious a series of distractions, but we were lucky in that regard-all we were facing was instinct.
The Hamster bus inserted us-Jake and Key were experienced in distraction ops, so I wanted them starting the show; I was first off the bus since I had the keys, Pete on my heels. After careful consideration I had chosen a stairwell door with which to make entry-that might seem obvious, but the stupid designer used glass walls for the stairwell so there was a real danger of being spotted by infected on the way up. Worse, the stairwell doors were fully glass as well, so my bumper sticker ploy wouldn’t work, either.
There weren’t any infected in sight as we bailed out of the bus, which hauled ass around the nearest corner as soon as the last of the entry team was on the ground to minimize the attraction to this area. I gimped at best speed to the door and got it open, holding it for Pete, who bounded up to the second floor. I followed with Chuck while Strad and Danny pounded chisels into the interior door’s frame to wedge it shut and then hastily unrolled tin-foil over the door panels and duct-taped it into place. One of the cruisers blew while they were doing this, rattling the building despite being nearly a third of a mile away. Doc was right: they knew their bang-bang.
It was strange working with an outfit again-I had gotten used to being alone or in a small, informal group. The Hamsters, by dint of shared actions, were meshed into a solid, practiced team. It was unsettling in a way.
The instant Strad and Danny started up I signaled Chuck and Pete to start wedging and taping the second floor door while I headed up to the third floor landing. So far, so good. Strad followed me up, with Danny trailing behind, zig-zagging a can of spray paint up the glass wall-we hoped it would break up outlines; the infected didn’t look up a lot, but if they did there wasn’t any cover for us.
It was going smoothly according to plan-very, very smoothly. The second patrol car blew just as I reached the third landing, the distance-dulled thump still loud enough to cover my startled profanity as I reached the landing just as an infected shambled out the hall door to see what the noise was all about.
I hit it with a partial miss, racked the slide, and dropped it for certain before it could recover. Catching the door before it closed I felt like someone dumped a bucket of ice water into my body, on the inside. It was a sudden, cold, despair-laden shock: the hallway was full of infected, all turning towards me.
Opening up was instinctive, and instinct was all I had. A second later Strad was firing alongside me, and Danny was blazing away when I stepped back to reload. Chuck and Pete were firing, too, but they were halfway up to the fourth floor and shooting up at the landing.
Furious, I thumbed fresh rounds into the 870, bitterly cursing: our deception plan was far better than last time-why the hell were dozens of infected literally guarding the one point we wanted to reach? It was infuriating to say the least.
Strad and Danny had them thinned out pretty well, but the moaning wail had been sounded several times and I had no doubts that more were on the way. I emptied my shotgun on some candidates who looked like they weren’t completely inert, and reloaded again. “I’m going for the books,” I announced, and went. The plan had pretty much gone to pieces so I was grateful when the pair trailed me, checking doors and side rooms. A couple infected showed up at the end of the hall and charged; I dropped them without slowing, topping off the tube on the move. The door I needed was ahead on my left when the double doors to a computer lab on my right suddenly rattled from a body hitting them, damn near sending me out of my boots.
“Is someone there?” It was a woman’s voice, dry and desperate, coming from behind the battered yellow panel doors. Suddenly the significance of the infected was explained-they had at least one uninfected Human cornered, and no amount of noise and pretty lights would fully distract them. I was surprised the doors had held.
Catching Strad’s eye, I jerked my head down the hall and kept going. It turned out the doors hadn’t really held-there was a segmented anti-fire wall rolled down behind them.
A trio of ex-students, now viral hosts came around the corner at a trot; I dropped them, topped off the tube, and looked through the door’s window at the stacks inside. It looked clear, and it wasn’t a large room, so with all the shooting any infected inside should have been waiting at the door. I dropped the 870 on its sling and drew the handier cut-down before unlocking the door; once inside I locked it behind me and swept the room, trying to move fast because I could hear Chuck and Pete shooting out in the stairwell.
The room was clear; digging out my cards, I turned on the LED light and started on the shelves. I found the first book quickly enough, but the second was confusing-I found two of similar names and numbers, but neither matched exactly. I checked up and down the shelves, then grabbed both and said to hell with it.
Checking out the door before opening it rewarded me with the image of an infected female student catching a load of rock salt in the face and neck. Throwing the stubbly little black knob, I jerked the door open, yelled to avoid getting peppered, and gimped back the way I came, dropping an infected janitor as I went.
Strad and Danny had dropped a half-dozen infected and extracted four filthy, haunted uninfected: one woman in her thirties and three late teens-early twenties, two girls and a boy. I suppose they had been cornered in the lab all week, but I don’t care enough at this point to ask.
“Time to go,” I announced somewhat needlessly. “Who’s with me on rearguard?”
“I got it.” Danny stepped up as I topped off the cut-down and holstered it. Strad got the four sort of in hand and headed for the stairwell.
The initial retreat was easy-infected came down the hall in ones and twos, leaving Danny and me enough time between shots to replace the rounds. In the stairwell things were a good deal hotter-the ones we had been killing on the third floor were just stragglers-the real attack was coming from the top floor. The woman was screaming about there being more people trapped ‘up there’, by which I interpreted the fourth floor, which would explain all the infected. They were going to have to stay trapped for another day or two until the infected shifted gears and formed the river-Chuck and Pete had just about filled the stairs with corpses and the infected were still trying. More ominously, there was pounding at the lower floor doors.
“Go with Strad!” I slapped Chuck on the back and opened fire up the stairwell. Danny alternated between the hallway and the stairs, and Pete held his post. I fired four rounds and then hit my cell phone call button-the signal for the bus to come get us. A second button-series alerted Jake, in case the bus dropped the ball.
“Danny, go!” Pete and I fired while Dann
y dropped back to the next turn in the stairs, then Pete fell back, and then I went; the two not moving covered the one who was.
The mass of dead was hampering the infected far more than our covering fire, but I wasn’t emotionally involved with the fight. We were pulling back, and that was the primary issue.
The second floor door was still closed when I gimped past, but it was hanging by a thread-the soft metal of the frame wasn’t going to resist the dogged if uncoordinated efforts of the infected for long.
The bus hadn’t arrived yet, which wasn’t unexpected since it had been about thirty seconds, but Strad had led the four uninfected outside and lined them up against the side of the building because the tiny foyer at ground level wasn’t big enough for our team and the people we had rescued. Chuck was outside the door but leaning in, Pete was firing up the stairwell, and Danny was eyeing the failing door as I turned the landing and headed down, thumbing rounds into the 870’s tube, hugging the glass wall to avoid Pete’s fire.
I was seething inside. Military planners console themselves with stories about horseshoes and nails, and how no plan survives contact with the enemy. I hadn’t considered that there would be uninfected trapped in the building; how I could have planned for that I am not certain, as the infected definitely consider a bird in hand to be much more important than anything else. It just rankled that a very good plan was turning to shit.
Then Danny disappeared. One second he was staring at the first floor door as it was slowly pounded out of shape, and the next he was gone. For a second it was like an optical illusion, and then Chuck yelled and started shooting down the stairway to the basement level as infected charged up the stairs.
Things were moving in that peculiar fast-slow nature of close combat. I saw Pete swing around, step forward and fire over the railing, aiming down; I heard pistol shots, rapid fire, muffled by bodies but still booming through the stairwell in comparison to our subsonic, low-velocity salt rounds-that was Danny, down on the basement landing under a pile of infected.