Liam followed Black's two sisters, with Victoria in tow. Nothing made any sense. He thought it was the lack of proper light playing tricks on his mind. Everything seemed out of balance in the darkness, low lights, and long shadows everywhere.
And the heat. The new cave was a raw shock. Hotter and drier than the summer day outside.
Ahead, Black flicked on a high-powered flashlight as she jogged. The room was larger than the last one, or at least higher. He saw the glint of metal hovering on each side of him, though he couldn't make out the shapes. On the walls and columns of the room, lights began to flicker. They reminded him of the ancient lights in his high school gymnasium. They seemed to take an eternity to light up. His teachers were always hesitant to turn off the lights for short periods of time, because they took so long to come back on.
They were coming on now.
“Hurry! We're almost there.”
She was twenty-five yards ahead, but Liam saw her come to a stop. She turned out her flashlight, but there was a low light from the cumulative effect of all the lights around them starting to come on.
They arrived together in what turned out to be a large intersection in the center of an incredible interior space hollowed out of solid limestone. He was covered in sweat from just a few minutes of running.
Black spoke. “Some dumbass got the idea a quarry would be a safe place to go in the event the dead started to walk the earth. Timothy said it was because of some TV show about zombies—those fake people hid in a mine and made it look easy. But people who came into this mine never found safety.” She paused dramatically, apparently because she was being dramatic. “And this is why.”
The lights remained dim, but Liam could now see most of the cavern. Indeed, it was a cavern. It was much bigger than he imagined—hundreds of yards in every direction from where they stood. They were smack in the middle. A row of raw stone columns extended along an axis he imagined as north and south and another went east and west. They'd come up the north-south axis. The ceiling was probably forty feet above the solid rock under their feet in every direction.
And as far as he could see in every direction, the floor was crammed with tanks. Genuine armored fighting vehicles. Parked in tidy rows.
Victoria whistled.
Liam was speechless.
The lights continued to brighten. Each degree of brightness seemed to reveal another row of tanks further in the distance.
Black continued with her dramatic revelation. “Timothy told me he was part of a group fighting the people who released the plague. These tanks would eventually be used to take back the land stolen by those people. You know, so the United States could rebuild.”
Liam still had no response to the number of tanks arrayed before him. He believed he was somewhat of an expert in tanks—he'd played military-themed games over the years—but he only recognized some of the models.
In front of him, he saw line after line of the M1A2 Abrams. It was the main battle tank of the U.S. military, and one of them had recently saved him and Grandma from the advancing zombies. He remembered them well. But he also saw tanks he pictured as being from World War II. Sherman tanks. They were endless. He turned around and saw other models he thought he knew, but wasn't sure. One long row appeared to be Russian. He might even see a short row of German tanks. How they were here, he couldn't even guess. To what end?
He was dizzy at the sight of the tank farm. If any Army could get all these tanks working, even if they just got the Abrams tanks working, they would be unstoppable.
A snippet of his conversation with Duchesne popped into his head. He mentioned people waiting in their bunkers until the time was right to rebuild. Government functionaries, business leaders, corporate cabals, and the heads of state. All of them were sitting in safety somewhere. Is this what they would use when they reclaimed the country?
“I wanted to kill these guys, but I didn't have it in me. The Patriot Snowballers might have unleashed the plague, but I don't think these three pushed the button to do it.” She had walked toward the first row of Abrams tanks and pointed to the one on the corner. “So I put them inside and sealed up the hatches.”
Liam's head spun.
“Wait a second, wait just a second. Do you mean to tell me the Patriot people released the plague?”
“Yeah, Timothy talked about it all the time. Showed it to me on his news websites. They marched on Washington D.C., and wrote out their demands. They wanted the President to give up his term. They wanted to strengthen the Tenth Amendment—something about States having more rights. They basically claimed to want to go back to 1776 and start over. Naturally, the President refused. And when he did, the Snowballers just released the plague along with their manifesto, claiming that if they couldn't have the government they wanted, they'd just blast the world back to the Stone Age so they could start over and make things better. Can you believe that shit?”
It was the exact opposite story he'd heard from Hayes and Duchesne. They had said it was the President who had released the plague, because he wanted to kill the Snowballers marching on his seat of power.
Both sounded reasonable, except for one little detail. The list of names of his family. Anyone related to Rose Peters—his grandma from Colorado. She'd helped the Patriots along. She'd—
His mind threw out a curveball. Something so far-fetched he wanted to laugh. A laugh wouldn't come out in the face of so many tanks. This had grown much bigger than a world-ending plague.
What if they targeted my family because they thought we were the terrorists.
And, taking it to the logical conclusion…
Grandma Rose released the plague, making the rest of her family enemies of the state.
It sounded absurd. But then, so did zombies. So did everything he'd heard in the past few weeks. Multiple viruses. Grandma's visions. Just being here in this room. It was all absurd for a teenager who, until recently, spent all his time playing fantasy-based video games. Now those fantasy games seemed like pale imitations.
“No, that's not right.” Victoria started to speak up, but Liam caught her.
“Hey, can I talk to you for a sec?” He didn't give her a chance to respond. He pulled her backward, away from the triplets.
Over his shoulder, he called, “We'll be right back.”
When he thought they had enough space, he spoke quietly.
“My dad had flags of a Polar Bear in his ammo room. That person on the computer said my dad was friends with the Patriot guy we passed on the ridge. And Duchesne admitted it was the President who released the plague on them. If we tell Black we have sympathies with the Snowballers, she might throw us in a tank, too.”
Victoria's reply wasn't what he expected. “Do we have sympathies with them? What if Black is right? How can we be sure?”
“No! We don't—” He said it too loud, but he was angry she would even suggest such a thing.
“Shhh! Take it easy. I was only playing devil's advocate. I've met four members of your family; you aren't the type to release a plague.” She laughed while holding his hand firmly.
His hackles laid back down. To be fair, he tested the devil's idea. His brain processed an image of Grandma Rose pouring out a vial of glowing green goo into the drinking reservoir of a big city. Then he tried to analyze whether it was possible. He tried to square that with the image of that same Grandma running to rescue him from drowning all those years ago. The math didn't add up.
“No, my Grandma would never have done that. The Snowballers have to be the good guys. And anyway the colonel said the plague started overseas. He never mentioned patriots or presidents.”
A voice called out from behind them. It was one of the triplets, but Liam couldn't identify which. They all sounded the same, he'd decided.
“They got out!”
Liam found himself in a strange place. He was happy the good guys escaped, but he was cavorting with the girl who had somehow captured them. That made him a potential enemy, rather than a friend
.
He felt exposed standing in the open, so he grabbed Victoria and ushered her between two of the big Abrams tanks.
Right into the barrel of a gun. It was attached to a Patriot.
6
“Don't say a word. I don't want to hurt you two.”
Liam raised his arms, spear in hand. He backed up to be next to Victoria. Together, they barely fit in the space between the two tanks.
“Liam? Victoria?” A girl called loudly for them.
A long period of silence ensued. Part of him imagined the triplets running in and out of the tanks like bad-ass video game avatars from World of Undead Soldiers. This scenario would fit well in the game. Survive at all costs, save your captured friends. But the whole episode ended with a bit more realism than his game.
A male voice called out. “We've got them, Dave.”
The man pointing the rifle at them motioned to Liam. “Go ahead, let's go see what we can see.”
He grabbed Victoria's hand as they backed out. The three girls were several tanks down the row, sitting on the ground with their hands on their heads. They looked beaten.
Black saw them. “Sorry guys, I didn't know there was a hatch on the bottom of the tank.”
“It's OK,” Liam said. “I think these are the good guys.”
“What? No! They killed Tim and Frank.”
The guy behind Liam spoke loudly toward the girls ahead. “They tried to shoot us. We didn't want to kill them.”
To Liam—or no one in particular—the man grumbled: “We should be killing those dead things, instead of each other.”
“Amen, brother,” is what came out of Liam's mouth. After he'd said it, he waited for a response. The man became quiet as they walked the remaining distance to the girls. Liam and Victoria took a seat with them.
“I heard these two talking about being with the Bears, Clarence. Said his father's one.”
“We can't take a chance. Maybe it's a trick. Those last two guys almost tricked us, too.”
Dave seemed uninterested in pushing the issue.
Liam was also unsure he wanted to push the issue. If they were truly Patriots, he believed they'd come to no harm. However, if they were part of the NIS, or just about any other government agency, they might come to harm for being associated with an anti-government group. Especially if the official word going around was that they were responsible for releasing the plague on everyone else. He had to admit, it was brilliant propaganda. Foment unrest against the citizens so they, the agents of the government, could swoop in and pick up the pieces. But he knew it was never that simple. There were plenty of good guys in government, too. There was no litmus test to determine the good guys from the bad, except by their actions. So far, this group of men had been treated like criminals. Would they reciprocate?
The guy who seemed to be the leader, Clarence, spoke softly to the five of them. “Look, I'm not going to do anything to hurt you kids. I'm sorry we killed your friends, but look at this place. Why do you think they were guarding this?”
Black spoke up. “They said you were coming to take it over.”
The man released a hearty guffaw. “Me, and what army? What am I gonna do, drive each tank out of here and come back for the next. It would take me ten lifetimes. That doesn't include the time it would take to get these relics started and then clear all the cars outside.”
It made sense to Liam. “Then why did you come through here, if not for the tanks?”
“Your crafty friend delayed us, but we're going to finish our mission. It's just down the road.” He pointed ahead, deeper into the tank room. “I'll let you come with, but you have to surrender all your guns.”
Liam looked at all the girls, settling on Black. She had to be armed, though she didn't display any weapons. How else could she have ordered these men into the tank?
Victoria let them know she was going to pull out the Glock. She set it down behind her. Liam watched as the man picked it up and stuck it into his waistband.
Black also pulled out a gun. She carelessly tossed it behind her. The leader picked it up with a quiet laugh.
“You can keep the hand tools. Never know when the infected are going to jump out. But if you try to use those on us, we won't be stingy with our bullets. Deal?”
Black seemed to speak for the triplets. She agreed with a forlorn, “Yeahhh.”
Liam was quick with his own affirmation. He took comfort, no matter how small, in holding his spear.
“Then let's get started. You guys walk that way. We'll follow.”
The triplets led them all. When they crossed the east-west axis, they had to step over an inset pair of railroad tracks. To the left, hundreds of yards down the tracks, Liam could see an industrial-sized metal door. To the right, the tracks went under another door in the distance. But there was a short train parked on the line. It faced the other way, but it pulled several flat cars loaded with tanks he recognized: World War II vintage Tiger tanks.
“Oh man.” Liam stopped at the sight and pointed. “Those. Those tanks are rare.”
Clarence backed him up. “That explains how they get them in and out.” He looked at Black. “Well, maybe I could finish the job of taking all these tanks if I had a train.”
Liam heard her sarcastically laugh behind him.
Everyone had stopped in the main intersection of the room. Liam wore his desire to see the train on his face, and Clarence seemed to share his curiosity.
“Let's check it out.”
A short ways down the tracks they passed a number of different models of tanks. Each row ended at the aisle so they could see each tank in profile. Liam hardly recognized any of them, but he knew the distinctive German Tiger. They came to a section that had been cleared out. A good number of Tigers were gone from their assigned row. Based on the numbers of missing, and the tanks on the train, more than a few had been used somewhere else...or they were being brought in.
“Where are they taking them?” Victoria asked the group, to no avail.
Everyone moved past two flatbed cars toward the engine. Liam was disturbed to see blood all over the pair of tank haulers. Like there'd been a battle here.
He walked along past the flats and saw the side of the engine. It was painted a happy bright orange and looked like the engines that pulled his train out of St. Louis. In fact—
“Damn. It says Valkyrie.” He saw the name in black lettering stenciled on the side of the engine, just as it was on his train. This was his.
“You know this train?” Clarence seemed impressed.
“Victoria and I rode this. Well, these two engines pulled our train out of St. Louis on day three. I remember because it was named Valkyrie.” He pointed to the moniker. “We left it at the end of the tracks at a blown bridge. Not far from here. Someone must have brought it back, and put it to work. And I think...”
He walked a few yards back to the flat car, looked, and then nodded. “Yep, these flatcars are the same. This blood is dried. It's ten-something days old.”
“What's a Valkyrie? Isn't it some kind of angel?” Pink asked her sisters. They'd mentioned reading a lot, so it didn't surprise him Blue had the answer: “Valkyries are from Norse mythology. They had something to do with taking slain warriors to Valhalla, if I remember right.”
“What does it have to do with a train?” Liam asked rhetorically. No one had an answer.
They spent a few minutes looking around, but the only point of interest was the large metal door far down the tracks. Somehow it had to be opened to let the trains in and out.
“All right, this is interesting and all, but we need to keep moving. I'm two days behind schedule.” Clarence got them back on the main path. Ten minutes later, they had crossed the room and stood before a hole in the wall. It was about as big as pickup truck and carved right into the rock face. Vehicles had gone in and out, as the dual tracks were obvious on the ground.
“Through there.” The men each had flashlights on their rifles. They turned them on a
s they walked out of the light of the tank room. They entered a dark chamber with a low ceiling. It was low enough Liam could touch it if he wanted, though he wasn't brave enough to try it with three guns pointed at his back. The tanks were practically cheery in comparison to the dark space they were entering.
Clarence spoke once they were all inside. “The tanks aren't why we're here. They surprised us as much as they did you. Whoever put those in here had been doing it for a long time. The Tigers on that train are from the Second World War. Many others are American tanks from that war. Probably built in factories right here in St. Louis and then stored here. But the people who put the tanks here were also playing around with something else,” he added dramatically.
He swung his flashlight around. The walls were rough cut by mining equipment. The whole area looked like it was done in a hasty fashion. Large chunks of stone dotted the floor as if they'd been left in a hurried retreat. Several strange-looking pieces of digging equipment hid in the shadows in the corner. Parked until needed.
“Here we go. Here's one.” Liam looked up where the man pointed his light. Something had been carved out of the ceiling. It was a hole about the dimensions of a motorcycle, though that made no sense. As the light of the flashlight bounced inside the hole, he looked up and saw a long wooden plank above, sealing the roof of the hole maybe ten feet above. He imagined he was looking up at the underside of the floor of someone's rustic log cabin.
“What is it?” His curiosity always beat out his own safety.
“Look around the room. What do you see?”
The lights of the guns swept the room. Several more holes on the ceiling were apparent. They were dark shadows dripping down into the room from above.
And yet, they were not random. Liam got his bearings and saw they made neat lines, starting with the one they'd reached first. It was a corner, just as the tanks had made a corner where the rows met.
Found him down in a quarry.
Next door to the Jefferson Barracks National Cemetery.
These tunnels go on for miles.
The reality snapped in place. Liam saw the rows for what they were.
Last Fight of the Valkyries Page 22