by Bryan James
“New York, Boston, Philly, Pittsburgh, Atlantic City.” He intoned them slowly, almost reverently. “All gone. Or near as. Should be festering flaming sores on the earth by now. Firebombed to hell. Thousands of pounds of ordnance from us, from the Limeys and from some helpful cruise missiles launched by some chicken-shit Frenchies 600 miles away. Those fois-gras munching snail-eaters didn’t want to get too close—at least not close enough for search and rescue work.”
He snorted in derision.
Turning toward us, he seemed to need to explain. “Orders came down about six days ago. Take out the major population centers. Keep the infected numbers down, maybe control the infection rates and keep folk from trying to get to the larger cities. Didn’t sit too well with a number of us, let me tell you. Damn sure didn’t like passing that order to my people. But we followed through. Just finished up with Atlantic City, in fact.”
“I noticed,” I said, almost under my breath.
Kate looked stunned, despite having witnessed New York’s demise from the helicopter when the Liverpool launched several days ago.
“But surely there was … I mean, they can’t be doing this up and down the coast, can they? The living people … the infrastructure … it will take years to recover what we’re destroying.”
I knew what she was thinking. We might have a cure. Don’t be too hasty to destroy what we might be able to save. Except we didn’t know yet whether we had the answer. Only a smaller question.
Before he could answer, I broke in.
“Have you heard back from the other ships? I mean, there are more right? You can’t be the only one out here.”
It was a logical assumption. Naval vessels would have been largely insulated from the infection. Self-sustaining, they produced their own water and power. They held ample supplies of food and ammunition, and they could stay under way for weeks on end.
“Hell no, son. Big E ain’t the only ship in the water, she’s just the oldest. We got carrier groups from here to Cuba and from Seattle to San Diego doing cleaning and search and rescue ops. So far, so good. No casualties yet. The zombie bastards don’t really shoot back at the cruise missiles and laser guided bombs, and we don’t let anyone on board who even sniffles funny.”
He looked up at Kate, eyes narrowing slightly.
“I know what you’re thinking ma’am, and while I’m angrier than a pregnant badger in a sack, I ain’t got one lick of discretion. Aside from that, these things ain’t goin’ away. We have got to do something to thin their numbers.”
He leaned back against the table and crossed his arms, a large frown bringing the corners of his eyes down. Outside, the roar of an engine broke through the silence as he paused, and he turned to watch the tail of an F-18 disappear from view. Steam drifted up from the catapult below, and he turned back to us.
“I know you folk have been out of the loop, but let me give you the some new pieces of intel we have on these bastards. Last few people we rescued reported that they came from a small town. It was large enough to have one good, strong shelter, housing about a hundred pitiful survivors in a high school gym. They barred the doors and hunkered down. Just like thousands of folks are doing this very second.”
“Well, this town, it didn’t have so many people. Maybe a few thousand total, and they were spread out over twenty or thirty miles. Decent farming community, but nothing like New York or Boston. Hell, not even bigger than a large neighborhood in one a those places.”
He frowned then, voice going slightly lower, softer. Behind us, Vincent shifted his weight, exhaling loudly. He had clearly heard the story.
“The folk we rescued were holed up in a small convenience store. Nothing secure, but they were sneaky. They kept the lights off, the sound down, and their profiles low. See, these things seem to hunt by sound and smell. Sight’s for shit. Can’t see too well at all, unless the target’s movin’ or they’re pretty close. According to our friends, they also have trouble with glass and reflections—almost as if they see in grays and blacks.”
I remembered the car dealership, where the creature had trouble focusing on me behind the opened car door. The analysis made sense. We knew they used noise and smell, but it was good to know they lacked acute vision, as Kopland had explained in the lab.
“Anyhow, these people sat there for days. Watching these dead folk wander about outside, hoping against hope that none of ‘em would sniff ‘em out and break the glass windows in front of the store. Never had a break to run for it. Didn’t have guns or a car. Just stuck there.”
He paused as a landing aircraft shrieked in the background, tires slamming against pavement at more than a hundred miles an hour. The engines whined loudly and then rapidly spooled down. He continued, unfazed.
“Then, one morning they woke up and no one was outside. Nothing was moving. They waited. For hours, they waited for one of those hell-damned bitches to wander by. But they didn’t see any. That’s when they heard it. From clear across town, they heard the pounding of thousands of bodies. And then the screams. They knew where all the others had gone.”
I knew too. I had seen them bind together. Individually, they could be killed, defeated. In groups …
“The school,” Kate said, a look of revulsion on her face.
He nodded, turning back to the board. “One or two at a time, these things are manageable. Especially to a SEAL team or a machine gun or a cluster bomb. When thousands show up at your door, there’s very little that you can do.” He paused. “Unless you’re me, of course.”
I breathed out heavily, surprised at how tired I felt.
“So what you’re saying is that these things are developing a herding instinct? Do you have any reports of communication between them?”
He shook his head. “Nope, nothin’ like that. God forbid. While they respond to the noise that others make, they don’t seem to be able to do anything more than that. They just seem … well, they seem to know. They seem to know when they got people trapped and when others are around. We did a flyby on a suburb of Boston before we laid into the city. Had reports of survivors in a McDonald’s thereabouts. There were at least five thousand of those mother fuckers swarming over the building when our chopper got there. If we had been there ten minutes earlier … well. No use in mourning the family cow after she dies.”
I blinked. When were you supposed to mourn her?
And do people really mourn cows? I mean, I know I was missing the point, but I grew up in the North. We didn’t have wisdom like that where I was from.
He pointed at glowing green dots that seemed to be evenly spaced up and down the East Coast. One dot blinked slowly off the coast of Massachusetts. Four more blinked off the coast of North Carolina, Georgia, Florida and one in the Gulf of Mexico.
“We’ve got naval assets up and down the coast, and we’re doing what we can, but there are so goddamned many of these things, and every city we firebomb is a drop in the bucket. Bottom line is, we got very few survivors showing up, and every report we get is of more infected overrunning safe points. Every city we haven’t torched has strongholds filled with normal people. Uninfected people. Wilmington, Norfolk, Charlotte, D.C.,” he pointed at yellow markers on the maps.
“They’ve all got schools, prisons, and military bases filled with people who knew where to hide or hole up or were just plain lucky. People are surviving this thing. They’re working together, banding together. We just don’t have a way to stop this damned infection from spreading.” He shook his head, clearly frustrated.
“Now, every day, we lose more coms with folks. Don’t know if they’re alive or dead. The repeater towers are going down, and the satellites aren’t pinging correctly. Our satellite imagery is for shit, and the only way I can get good pictures is with my recon birds. And gas is too damn valuable to send them out unless it’s necessary. So here were are.”
He slammed his huge hands on the table top for emphasis, his voice angry.
“Slowly destroying the very cities we sw
ore to protect when we joined up. You can’t fucking ask me any question I haven’t asked and answered already. I can’t stand this bullshit, but I do it anyway. I will tell you one thing: if I had a way to end this shit right here and right now, I would take it in a heartbeat.”
I nodded, understanding what he felt. I desperately wanted to share what we knew. But I couldn’t.
Not yet. Not until we were sure.
I spoke softly, my voice breaking slightly. It was really hot in here.
“You get no quarrel from me Captain. You’re doing what needs to be done. Take it from me. We saw these things up close. There’s no reasoning, no tactics. They aren’t people anymore. If they’ve taken a city once, it will belong to them forever. Nothing is left but to burn it to the ground.”
I could see Kate nodding slowly. I wasn’t sure if she meant it, but I’m glad she picked up on his emotion. Didn’t want to irritate the man, that’s for sure. Particularly in light of our peculiar circumstances.
Staring at the map, the colors blurred in my eyes again. I shook my head, ignoring it as an effect of staring at the bright lights for too long.
“Mind me asking where we’re headed?” I asked. I leaned against the table, feeling tired again.
He nodded, pointing at a green star on the coast of the Chesapeake Bay.
“First order of business is a recon and assessment of Dover Air Force Base,” he said, pointing at the map. Dover blinked green. “Lost contact with them only a few hours ago, and they have some airlift flights returning in about 7 hours en route from Iraq with equipment and men. At least 12 C-5’s packed with useful assets. Due to arrive in 7 hours, and we suddenly lost contact. I got 2 SEAL teams briefing now, and raring to have a crack at these things and I’m inclined to oblige them. We’ll wait for first light on that, but the thought of losing an air base is not attractive. We have flights of men returning from overseas every hour, and we need that manpower.”
“While the SEALs are doing that recon, we’re going to push up the Bay. Ordered to rendezvous in Annapolis for a rescue op. Some brass holed up in the academy that needs extraction, and we still own the academy. At least we did last time we had secure coms with them, a couple days ago. Ultimate orders are to reinforce the Pentagon from outside Baltimore harbor. D.C. is crawling with the bastards, but since command and control is still operative from the Pentagon, we’re going to support with air power when we can. Com has been sporadic, but we had orders to maintain contact by any means necessary.”
As he finished speaking, my hand, slick with sweat, slipped from the edge of the table and I fell forward slightly, catching myself before I fell down completely.
He paused, looking at me closely.
“You feeling okay, son? You look a little pale.”
I nodded briefly, still feeling a little weak. Truth be told, I felt like shit.
“If you don’t mind, sir, I think I’d like to head back to my bunk.”
My head was pounding suddenly and my heart was beating slightly faster. Uncomfortably so.
“No problem. I’ll touch base with you and your pretty lady later this evening. We got some night recon flights to run anyhow.” He turned back to the map, seeming to stare at the blinking red dots.
Without turning, he said softly. “Sleep well ma’am, Mr. McKnight. I hope to see you both soon.”
We both returned the salutation, and went to follow Commander Vincent and the good corporal into the belly of the ship.
“Oh, and Mr. McKnight?”
I stopped, feeling briefly worried.
“Yes?”
“I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve taken the liberty of scheduling a little welcome party for you tomorrow—in fact, already hung up a banner on the side of the tower.” He smiled. “I know a lot of my crew are fans of yours, and I’d take it kindly if you did a little celebrity meet and greet for them.”
He paused, glancing briefly at Vincent and back to me. “We don’t get much entertainment on board lately.”
Stunned by the request, I nodded mutely. It had been a while since someone wanted to treat me as a celebrity. At least the good kind.
“Wonderful,” he said, walking away from the board and sitting down in his large chair. “I’ll have Commander Vincent make the arrangements.”
Chapter 5
“You sure about this?”
“No, I’m not fucking sure about this,” I responded testily, fighting through a splitting headache. “But it’s got to be done. We can’t leave him there to die when we could do something about it.”
She looked up at me from her chair, as I stood there rubbing my head with my hands, her eyes big and warm, but voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Listen Mr. Sunshine, I’m just making sure you know what you’re doing. If we get caught and they find out you were bitten, you may have a whole new world of ‘shit you don’t want done to you’ to worry about. Not to mention the fact that we’re smuggling a potentially infectious agent into their ship. A ship, I might add, that may be one of the only substantial group of living people left on the planet.” She stayed calm and even.
Despite my headache, I smiled at her attitude. “I know. That’s why we have to be careful.”
“And what happens after this? I mean, assuming you don’t get shot, or thrown overboard? Assuming you inject him, and he magically heals and they ask no questions?”
“We go to D.C., to the Pentagon.”
She paused, eyes worried. “Are you sure that’s such a good idea? Considering what the government ... what role they had in your ... debacle?”
She was trying to tiptoe around the fact that the Government had tried to keep me silent about what they must have thought was Maria’s treachery by throwing me away for life. I understood the pause, but I had come to a realization.
“They’re the government; they had to do it to prevent people from finding out. It’s what they do, for better or worse. Kopland and his organization acted alone, the government was only complicit in covering it up and locking my ass away, not starting it. Clearly, they didn’t discover his role until too late, and they didn’t understand Maria’s intent in doing what she did. I have to hope that they do now. Kopland and his zealot freaks are the ones to blame. Am I pissed? Yep. Do I think anyone else has the resources to do anything to stop this? No. So you play the hand you’re dealt. We go to them, we give them the vial, and we hope that there are military scientists in the Pentagon that can figure this out.”
She looked into space for a moment before nodding.
“Just so long as you’re prepared for a bullet in the face when you show up,” she said, turning toward the door.
“From you, or them?” I quipped, glad to have her in my corner.
She shot me a look before gesturing toward the doorway, ready to get it over with.
“Okay, then, without further ado ...” I paused for dramatic effect before gesturing grandly. “This way, Kato!”
My raised voice hurt my head and I scowled briefly, holding my hand to my eyes.
“Who the hell said I’m the damn sidekick?” she muttered, glaring at me sideways as we walked into the hallway.
Clearly she hadn’t ever read the Green Hornet.
Kato did all the heavy lifting.
“Sir?” our friendly, stone-faced Marine asked quizzically as we walked outside.
“Yeah, listen, we both need to grab some Tylenol or something from the infirmary. Could you show us the way?”
I asked in my best impersonation of a self-effacing nice guy. I could actually use the drugs. I felt like shit warmed over on stale bread, and guessed it was an after effect of the drug and getting bitten or healing or something like that.
But fever and splitting headaches be damned, we had a job to do.
I absently ran my fingers over the small blue vial in my front pocket, glancing at Kate as she spoke up.
The Marine was looking doubtful, and as his mouth opened to issue what was likely to be a denial, Kate sp
oke.
“I have a splitting headache Corporal, could you do us this favor?”
He frowned briefly, then looked slightly worried. Glancing to both sides, he returned his gaze and stared for a moment at Kate. From somewhere above us, a distant roar of a jet engine faded quickly into the night.
“Well, I’m not supposed to take you anywhere…I was just supposed to take Mr. McKnight back to his bunk …”
“I know, I know,” she said, taking full advantage of his stare and leaning forward slightly. She still smelled wonderful, and I could feel the effect she was having on him. Her voice dropped slightly lower, affecting a husky sort of whisper.
“But we just need to go see the doctor again. He can authorize it once we get there. Please?” She let the last word go slowly, even going so far as to twist a strand of hair around her index finger, seemingly with casual nonchalance. She feigned vapidity remarkably well.
But I knew better.
He smiled slowly despite himself and shrugged slightly. “Don’t suppose it could hurt none.” Turning to the side, he caught me grinning and snapped back to ice man, grunting, almost as if he had recognized he’d been conned. His voice got firmer, but since had committed, he simply said, “Go ahead, before I change my mind.”
I tipped an imaginary hat to him as I passed by, and Kate drew even with me in the corridor as we plodded in front of our friend. We walked for several minutes, passing my room and several crew members on the way. I gave them all the twelve-mile stare to avoid the inevitable conversations.
“You conniving vixen, you.” I muttered under my breath to Kate, ducking to clear a low-hanging bulkhead.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, stepping lightly over a protruding cable. Her voice had a smile in it, and I knew she was grinning as she spoke.
“I bet you don’t,” I said doubtfully. “Where’d you learn that trick, anyhow?”
She stepped quickly and pulled ahead of me, walking in front of me and pulling the infirmary door open.