by Bryan James
The gap between the ramp and the entrance was another fallback measure, designed to allow the entire ramp assembly to be dropped, cutting off access to the entrance as a failsafe measure.
The door itself was simply a four-inch thick steel plate that rolled into position and was locked closed or open by two-inch thick steel rods. Not as secure as the large containers they used at the vehicle entrance, but it still did the job.
I glanced down again at the operation below, where hundreds more creatures were massing. They were pushing against the fencing now, and the flamethrowers were moving faster. The machine guns were spitting quickly, no pausing, a constant flow of metal into the corpses. A woman screamed as the fence bowed in several feet before a team of flamethrowers converged on the location. Kate joined me as we looked back.
The civilians were mostly out of the train, now, and the military was following tightly, supplies in hand and weapons hot, firing into the fence line freely and frequently.
The numbers were fading outside the fence, and the teams picked up the pace and the intensity, pushing the creatures back, and finally ushering the remaining civvies inside and toward where we stood watching.
I glanced at Kate and she lifted her eyebrows.
Close. Very close.
We were escorted around the ramparts to a narrow stairwell—no ramps or wide staircases on this side. In the case of a breach they wanted narrow firing lanes.
It was an amazing, and inspiring, collection of humanity on this side of the wall.
Large cargo planes lined the runway, beside fighter-bombers, helicopters of all shapes and sizes, several commercial airliners, and even a large refueling plane. One runway was completely dedicated to vehicle parking and maintenance, and the remainder of the space—the strip of grass between the runways, the tarmac closest to the terminal, and the grass and green space on the edges of the runways, was devoted to a humongous tent city. Army tents, camping tents, Red Cross tents, even a massive big-top circus tent. All lined up neatly and in predictable rows. Large fire pits surrounded by cleared space was set in intervals along the tidy avenues, and larger tents were spaced out as messes, latrines and gathering spaces.
The soldier from the train that was escorting us down into the camp gestured when we reached the ground, pointing down a long avenue lined with tents on one side and large cargo containers full of supplies on the other.
“Command tent is at the end, right hand side. You can’t miss it. Big flag out front and two guards near the door.” He turned and moved quickly back to the exit.
I shifted the protective balaclava on my face, hating it for the fiftieth time. Knowing that it was necessary didn’t help. I couldn’t stand the fabric against my skin, and I hated always having to shelter my eyes from actual sunlight. I felt like a goddamned vampire.
Plus, it didn’t help with maintaining anonymity. We were garnering stares, our motley crew. Kate and I with our masks and our medieval looking weapons, Ky with her crossbow and her crazy dog.
The people going about their business, carrying water and food, cooking, cleaning, doing laundry; oiling guns or caring for children; all of them were curious. New people had probably stopped coming in with any frequency the longer they were here.
In the distance, I heard the familiar drone of a turboprop engine, and I looked up in time to see the large form of a C-130 touching down in a squeal of wheels and a roar of displaced air and burning fuel.
Behind the tents somewhere, a dull but consistent popping sound testified to the conduct of target practice, and I watched, bemused and impressed as a large Abrams tank thundered across the next avenue up, followed by a tired-looking squad of men in uniforms like ours, some with scarred plating and large tears apparent on the fabric.
We reached the end of the avenue, staring at the camouflage brown material and the two infantrymen in full battle rattle standing on either side of the door. Neither was at full attention, but they were scanning the area as we approached, and they locked on us as soon as we made it clear we were coming to the tent. One of them disappeared into the doorway and reappeared moments later with a smaller man in tow.
His close-cropped gray hair sat on an angular head, and sharp but friendly eyes moved over each of us quickly, a slim gray mustache twitching over his thin lips in a small smile.
“Well now. We weren’t sure you’d make it. Heard all sorts of nasty about you folks on your way over.” He stuck out his hand and pumped my gloved arm furiously, with anxious energy.
“Good to see you folks,” he said, going to Kate, then to Ky, who made a face at me when he looked away.
“Name’s Rod Finnigan, welcome to Camp SeaTac. Can we get you anything?” He motioned to us to follow him inside, and we leapt at the chance, still feeling the glares of the other camp dwellers and desperately wanting to lose the face covering.
“I’m sorry, no rank?” I asked, curious.
He laughed, somewhat self-deprecatingly.
“Well, yes. I’m a colonel, but I’m also an engineer. I was called up the day all this started. My men here have lost several other commanders since this all started, and it fell to me when they ran out of other colonels. But I’m an engineer. I don’t identify as a military man first. I’ll wear the bird,” he reached up to his chest and pointed at the sewn insignia that almost blended in with the camouflage. “But the way I see it, it’s my engineering that is saving lives right now, not my soldiering. That’s why I have Lieutenant Colonel Garcia, here” he pointed at a man in his mid-forties who nodded seriously from behind a desk piled with paperwork, a carbine leaned obviously near his right hand, “and some damn good majors and captains as well. Anyway, enough about me,” he waved his hand and sat down in a simple camp chair, gesturing for us to do the same.
The tent flap closed behind us, and I sighed heavily, stripping the cover from my face. Kate did the same.
On the far side of the tent, Romeo was making friends with an enlisted man sitting near a complex pile of electronics. The man was trying not to smile in the presence of his officers, but Romeo leaned back on his back legs and put his front paws on the man’s shoulders, licking him quickly before he could react. Despite himself, the sergeant chuckled. I smiled.
“Shit, it’s hard to believe,” said the colonel, staring at my face.
“They tell you all about it, then we’re expecting you, but I’ll be if it’s not a shock to see your face under these circumstances. I think the last time I saw you, not counting the tabloid crap on the television, was in Death Mission 5. Remember that one?”
I nodded, smiling slightly. It was one of my favorites. So campy, so over the top, that it was hilarious.
“Yes, Colonel, I remember it well. My wife thought it was the worst movie I ever made. She objected, I think, to the numerous fart jokes and gratuitous violence.”
“Yes, well,” his smile faded slightly at the mention of my wife, and I simply took a deep breath.
“Go figure,” said Kate softly, and I caught a humorous glimmer in her eye.
“Well, we have been expecting you. We have made two attempts so far to reconnoiter, and retrieve anyone alive if possible, over at the university. Both teams have been forced to turn back. We’ve struck out with special ops and helicopter support on foot once, and we really struck out with an attempt to drop a team into the campus by chopper. These things are like white on rice when they hear heavy machinery. We lost a few on that one. The most we can tell is that the campus is still thick with those things—they all seem to group together and move from building to building, but stay on the grounds. It’s the damnedest thing. We have moderate infestation in the city itself, but most of the large numbers have joined with one of the herds.”
“We had a big one in the city for a long time. Over at the east wall near the terminal, where our vehicle entrance is located, we almost had an issue. They got into the second backstop, and were at the gates. We burned a good number of them, but there were so many. We were able to get
them moving using some drones and sonic buoys, but they eventually came back. Then, one night, they all started to move out together, to the south.”
“And now they’re coming back?” I asked, remembering Gaffney’s intel from the train.
He nodded gravely.
“Seems that way. One group coming north, a helluva lot bigger than it was when it headed south, and one more coming from the west. Also pretty big.”
“Massive, actually,” said Ky, mouth full with an apple she had been offered on her way into the tent. Bits of fruit shot onto the ground, where Romeo snapped them up. “Lots of those bastards wandering around out there.”
“Ky, damn it, what have I told you about cursing?”
“Only when we talk about the zombies?”
Actually, that sounded appropriate.
Finnigan continued.
“We think the walls can take it. We’re sinking extra pylons in the bottom supports just to make sure, and we’ve started moving the women and children to Bremerton, where they have a small secure area over the sub pens. We have a few Coasties in the bay that can take stragglers, and one ice breaker out there just working as a hospital ship, but this camp still has more than thirty thousand people, mostly Army, but a good number of civilian survivors. We’re well armed and decently equipped, but by the recent estimates, each of these herds has nearly a million shamblers. We’ve never dealt with that before. Their ETA is similar—the one from the east is due in 36 hours. The ones from the south and the north in roughly 40 to 42, depending on speed.”
I just breathed out heavily. Three million.
That was three million times the number of zombies I ever wanted to deal with again.
“That brings us to you,” he said, leaning back in his chair and grabbing two folded, laminated charts and tossing one to each of us. They looked like the maps we had been given, but with different pathways and more specific notations on them.
“As you know, your target is the laboratory at the university. On the off chance Doctor Kopland is still alive and able to carry out his research, that’s where he needs you. If we had the ability, we’d extract him and his team and try to get their lab set up here. Among the many problems with that course of action, however, is that we don’t know if they’re alive down there, and since we lack the ability to communicate with them, we don’t know if we even could set up their lab here. My guess is that we can’t. So, we’re back to yours being either a suicide mission, or a ‘save the world’ kind of thing. The engineer in me gives you a 50/50 chance. The person in me gives you better odds. That being said,” he smiled and pointed at the maps.
“The stuff they gave you in D.C. was crap,” he said, and I chuckled. “We have more specific intel here, but the fact is, no one can tell where the problems are going to spring up. We’ve marked out the locations of the herds we’ve seen—again, much smaller than the ones approaching the city—and the last spot time. Some of them stay in their areas—like the one at the university. Some of them move around. Your fastest route is marked in green, but you’ll see that it’s not a great option.”
I stared at the map, seeing the thin green line running up the interstates, through the heart of the city, and into the northern suburbs, where the university was located.
“Obviously, it’s not only exposed, but we know for a fact that once you get into the city, it’s bumper to bumper with abandoned cars. That’s a minefield for shamblers and no way you could get through with a vehicle. It’s also incredibly exposed.”
“Route two is a little better. We have you on foot through the downtown area. Gives you some cover from the buildings and the debris, and gives you options in the buildings to find hard cover. However, you’re still exposed.”
“Route three involves a chopper drop somewhere in this area,” he circled an area of the city near the waterfront, “And you moving away from the LZ on foot, fast. Those things will cluster up on the noise fast, so you’re going to have to move quick.”
He looked up at us and smiled wryly. “It’s going to be your choice, so think it over. You leave tonight.”
I nodded once and looked at Kate. Her eyes were focused, and even Ky was staring at the paper earnestly.
Something occurred to me and I looked up at Finnigan.
“What about personnel? We have a friend from D.C. that’s on the train that we’d like to have with us. He’s Special Forces, and nice to have around.”
“Of course. Totally your discretion. Quite frankly, you people have done more to keep your asses out of the fire than anyone I know, so you’ll have the final say in your team. I do have one suggestion, though.”
“I’m all ears, Colonel.”
“We have a man on staff who’s been helping us out with supply runs and covert ops for medicine and ammo and the sort. He’s a little bit of a weird bird, but he knows the city inside and out. He used to run one of those city tours from the back of a bus, and before that he was a cab driver. He knows the nooks and crannies of this city like a lover’s body.”
“Sounds good, what’s the drawback?”
Finnigan smiled and stood up.
“He’s just a little… eccentric. But I think you’ll like him.”
THIRTY
“Artan!”
We stood at the edge of the motor pool tent, staring at the enormous troop transport that was currently lacking a massive wheel. Two small legs stuck out from under the chassis and I heard a man grunt.
“Artan, come out for a minute. Those folks we discussed are here.”
“Oh,” said the voice. “No shit?” His accent was sharp and lilted, clearly eastern European in origin. ‘Shit’ became ‘sheet,’ with a twist of attitude.
He rolled out from under the truck, his tight gray tee shirt rolled up at the sleeves and tucked into tightly belted camouflage pants. A cigarette dangled from his lip, and a pistol hung almost negligently in an old leather holster from his right side.
“You are the people.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. His dark, heavily lidded eyes moved from me to Kate, then to Ky, and finally to Romeo. “And dog.”
Romeo wagged once.
He sniffed loudly.
“They’re the ones we told you about. They’ll need a guide.”
He waved his hand in front of his face and grimaced.
“Yah, I know. Everyone needs guide. I’m guide, they need me. I go to city. Zombies try at eat to me. I come back to my place. Is like tail fairy.” He said sarcastically.
Tail fairy? That would be a popular fantasy creature. I supposed he meant fairy tale. He continued, making a bizarre face at Romeo as the dog unabashedly sniffed his shoe.
“Go to America, Artan, my family say. So good the opportunities. So much the jobs. Great job for Artan,” he was still staring at my covered face. He leaned forward, head tilting slightly as if trying to see through my glasses.
“You are person, yah?”
“Yah… I mean, yes. I’m a person. I have to stay covered in the light, so does she. It’s a byproduct of the vaccine.”
He looked dubiously at the cloudy and gray Seattle sky, squinting at the overcast afternoon.
“This? For you this is bad?” He guffawed, taking a drag of his cigarette and throwing the butt to the ground. He exhaled into the air. “You should be living here. No sun in Seattle. Only darkness.”
“They’re leaving tonight. They need a guide. You up for it?” Finnigan’s voice was slightly challenging. “Or you need to stay in the compound? Safer here.”
Artan turned, his chest rising slightly.
“You think Artan is scared? I save your men so many time. They know nothing of this city. I know how to go. And I will go with them to make voyage. Then, we will come back to here. Easy like cake.” He spat on the ground once and held out his hand.
“We go tomorrow. I see you at gate.”
I shook the hand and he turned away, sliding back under the transport.
“So, he’s your best guide, huh
?” said Kate dubiously, watching him scream at a stubborn bolt before tearing it from the truck.
“He’s not lying,” said the colonel, walking us back to the residential tents. “First time we used him, he brought seven of my men back from where they were trapped in a grocery store. They can’t even describe how they got back. He’s like a bloodhound.”
“What’s that accent? Russian?”
“No, he’s from the Balkans. Albania, I think. Hard to tell. He won’t talk about it.” Finnigan laughed again. “I don’t think he’s in the States legally, though. That might be it. But as long as we pay him his fee, he’s always up for work.”
“What’s his fee?” I asked, curious.
Finnigan chuckled as we walked through the mud.
“Sardines. A whole damn case. He loves the nasty little buggers.”
We arrived at the tent and the colonel extended his hand gravely.
“Listen, I don’t think I need to tell you this, but… with this many shamblers coming into town, you’re on a clock. We can try to evac you by chopper, if you can get to a safe place, but if the shit is really hitting the fan, we might be hard pressed. Getting you to the lab and getting the lab to work is our top priority. If you can’t make it in, or it’s gone… Just know that your work is done when you deliver your blood to the doctor. We will try our best to get you back, but in all likelihood, we are going to be up to our asses in the undead, here. You need to plan for that.”
I respected him for telling me what we had long expected.
Our mission was to provide blood samples and guinea pigs to Doctor Kopland, whose job it was to synthesize a vaccine that didn’t make people into nocturnal berserkers. Once he had our blood, we weren’t necessary any more. We were just numbers on a roster of living in a world of the dead.
“I appreciate the heads up, colonel. We understand. But you’re not going to be rid of us that easy. We’re going to need a favor from you when we get back here. We’ll be back, I guarantee it.”