The Dying of the Light (Book 3): Beginning

by Jason Kristopher

  “When you say tried…”

  “We attempted an incursion at each facility, sir, but we were unsuccessful.”

  There was a pause, and David continued. “How many people did we lose, Admiral?”

  “Thirty-four, sir.”

  “Let’s have a moment of silence, please.”

  A minute ticked by, and Blake spoke again. “We thank you and your people for your sacrifices, Admiral.”

  “Thank you, sir. It’s our job.”

  “And you do it well. What are our other options to find the codes?”

  “You’re not going to like it, sir.”

  “No doubt.”

  “Well, we know where there are some codes that are most likely accessible if we can just get to them in the football, sir.”

  “Well, shit,” Blake said.

  “The football?” Belkins asked. “What’s the football?”

  “Seriously?” Blake said, and Graves heard him laugh. It took a herculean effort for the admiral to keep from joining him.

  “Also known as the nuclear football, sir,” Graves answered. “It contains all the mechanisms and codes for use in launching our country’s long-range missiles, including nuclear ordnance, sir.”

  General Anderson groaned. “But that means…”

  “Yes, sir. Bunker Five. President Marnes or his staff will have that, sir.”

  The ruckus he’d been expecting finally came. Everyone talked over everyone else. He just sat there, waiting for it to blow over while looking at the early morning Norfolk sky out the window. Finally, the others calmed down, at least somewhat.

  Anderson came back on the line. “I knew you were going to say that. Ideas?”

  “We’ll have to go over land to get there. There are no aircraft here that are working or salvageable, due to exposure to the salt air for more than a decade. My current plan is to sail up the Potomac as far as we can with the Texas and some transpo ships with Humvees and whatnot. We won’t get far by sub, given the river’s depth, but it should get us around the worst of the infested areas. Then we’ll find a way to take the bunker by force. It won’t be easy, and I’d prefer to do it another way, but that’s about the only way we could come up with. And it’s still a damn sight easier than going back to the Pentagon, though we’ll be going right past that too.”

  “Well, this is a fine pickle we’ve found ourselves in, isn’t it?” Anderson sounded tired to Jeremiah. He hoped the man was in good health. He’d always liked the old sailor.

  “We could always just leave them buried,” one of the governors said, maybe Tate. “They’re not going anywhere.”

  “Are you sure of that?” Blake replied. “Absolutely sure? Because if you’re not… Well, you heard Graves, and he’s right. We’ve already got our Hunters here tracking all over the area for a hint of any more after the one we discovered before. They’ve killed two, and we think there may be more. This is a prime task for all our people now. If bitten by one of these things, you’ll turn in a minute, maybe two. With a few of them, we might be able to contain it. If a whole bunker—thousands of them—got loose? It’d be a new Z-Day all over again.”

  Tate’s voice quavered a bit. “I see what you mean.”

  “We have to make damned sure there’s none of them left. We have to exterminate every last one, and for that to happen, we’ve also got to take out the source: Bunker Four. If we don’t get rid of Dagger and his people too, we’ll always have to worry that he or his people could create more of them. Just like the prions, we can never be one hundred percent sure. He could have backup samples or whatever stored offsite, but at least this way we’ll have the main source and the people who know how to make it work.”

  “We’ll have to coordinate the strikes,” Anderson said. “On Bunkers Four and Five. It’s a safe bet Dagger has people in Bunker Five. If he gets wind of the attack before we’re ready, he could make our assault on Bunker Four ten times as hard.”

  “Agreed,” Jeremiah said. “We’ve got a lot of planning to do here. Should we meet again in a couple days?”

  There was a general round of agreement, and the call ended. Jeremiah turned back to O’Reilly. “Let’s assemble the department heads for a briefing tomorrow at 1000 hours, Jack. I want to see where we’re at on the other ships and our plans. I’ll need up-to-date estimates from all departments, and get me the best maps you can find of the Potomac. Let’s hope she’s deep enough.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Detention Cell

  ExForce HQ, Joint Base Lewis-McChord

  Tacoma, Washington

  “What do you have to say for yourself?” her father asked.

  Eden sat on the edge of the bunk in her cell. The metal bars and thin mattress with its thinner blanket made it impossible for her to believe she was anywhere but in jail. She thought she should be sad, should be crying and repentant and remorseful and apologizing. And maybe she would get there someday, some time when she wasn’t numb to anything and everything that was going on around her, but not today.

  Today, she was just herself. Just the person who had gotten her teammate killed and should never be let out of a cell again, ever. Or shouldn’t be around anyone else. If she wasn’t around anyone, she couldn’t get them killed.

  “Did you hear what your father asked you?” her mother chimed in, but Eden continued to ignore them both.

  Their disappointment was palpable, a tension in the air so thick, she couldn’t breathe for the weight of it. But she still had nothing to say. An apology would seem so futile, so silly, so… not enough… for what she’d done that she didn’t even bother with it.

  At some point, they left, and Eden turned to face the wall, bringing her knees up to her chest and curling her arms around them. She’d always been special even before she was born. The Immune Girl, the one who would never turn. It wasn’t her parents’ fault, or rather, they’d never decided to give her a life of fame—or infamy, depending on how you looked at it.

  Her attitude hadn’t helped her, though. On some level, Eden knew that part of it was just being a teenager, and a privileged one, at that. But she’d always been the cocky one, always knowing she was better or at least as good as everyone else, and she could take risks the others wouldn’t take—couldn’t take—because even if she got bit, she wouldn’t turn.

  She wanted to find something to make her feel again, feel anything, even pain, but the girl knew without looking that there was nothing in the cell that could do that. She could shout and cuss and make noise or throw herself against the bars, but that would just make her more of a burden.

  Even in this new world of psychological pain, Eden could do no right. Even her self-aggrandizing idea that she was a badass only held her team back. The poor little badass Hunter wasn’t even a team player in the one thing she was any good at.

  The only thing she could do now was save everyone else from her own idiocy. Lost in a world of her own, Eden Blake suffered as she imagined no one had before.

  Commander’s Office

  ExForce HQ

  David Blake paced in the small room while his wife Kimberly and Gaines just looked at everything but each other.

  “What do we do now?” Kimberly asked for what had to be the hundredth time.

  And for the hundredth time, David replied, “We can’t do anything, Kimberly.”

  Gaines cleared his throat, paused, and cleared his throat again before speaking. “If I may…” he said.

  David came back to the only remaining empty seat in the room, the one next to his wife Kim, and sat down. “Go ahead.”

  “Permission to speak freely, ma’am?” he said, looking at Kimberly.

  “You don’t need to ask me that, Dalton, but since you did… permission granted,” she replied.

  “Okay, just so we’re clear, I’m not saying this as her commanding officer or your head of ExForce.” When both of them nodded, Gaines continued. “You can’t intervene. We have to handle this by the book. There’s been enough alleg
ations already—”

  “Allegations?” David asked, a bit more forcefully than he intended. “What kind of allegations?”

  “Calm down, David,” Kimberly said, laying a hand on his arm.

  Gaines cleared his throat once more and continued. “There are already enough allegations of favoritism, special treatment, etc. Most of them are crap, everyone knows it. Even the people crying foul. But they keep coming in anyway, and they would always have been, no matter where we posted her.”

  Gaines straightened. “No, the only way to do this is by the book. She needs to go through the system and be punished for what she did. It will teach her a valuable lesson and show the others that she’s not above the law.”

  David was nodding. “I agree. I’m just not sure what that punishment should be.”

  “I’m assuming the medics have treated her?” Kimberly asked.

  “Yes, ma’am. The knock on the head she took was minor and has healed. As far as they can tell, she’s fine, physically.”

  “Then what’s wrong with her?”

  “It’s psychological. One of the techs we talked to said she was suffering some sort of break. I’m not a psychiatrist, so I can’t say for certain, but I’ve lost friends in combat before. We all have.”

  All three were quiet as they remembered those that they’d lost, including Gaines’s former fiancée.

  David was the first to speak. “Whatever we do, I think we can all agree here is not the place to do it. Aside from the lack of space, ExForce has other things to do that are more important.”

  Gaines objected. “She screwed up, sure, but she’s ExForce. We can handle it.”

  Kimberly shook her head. “No, he’s right, Dalton. You have bigger fish to fry right now. We can hold her. We’ve got the mental health folks on staff. She’s better off in the bunker.”

  Gaines frowned, ready to argue the point, and then subsided. “You’re probably right. I’ll arrange for her transfer.”

  “I think, under the circumstances, we avoid ‘house arrest’ at this point. We’ll keep her in the regular detention cells, with regular visits as needed from the docs.” David looked at each of the others in turn and waited for objections.

  When none came, Gaines nodded and hit the intercom button on his phone. “Marcie, will you—”

  The door opening interrupted him as his short, dark-haired wife and administrative assistant burst into the room. “She’s gone!” Marcie said in her Scottish brogue. “Done a runner, she has. Knocked Samuelsson o’er the head and lit out.”

  The others followed her out of the office and down the hallway until they reached the cells. The gate stood open, and Corporal Samuelsson perched on the bed inside, rubbing the back and side of his neck. David could see a nasty bruise forming already.

  “What the hell happened?” Gaines asked.

  “She said she needed to use the head, sir. I didn’t think anything of it, since she’s been so quiet the whole time.”

  “What the hell is she thinking?” David asked to no one in particular.

  “That doesn’t matter,” Gaines said. He turned to Marcie. “Lock down the base. She’s not in her right mind. No telling where she might go or what she might do. Anyone who sees her is to report in immediately. Do not attempt capture, just report her whereabouts. Roger?”

  “Aye,” Marcie replied. As she ran from the room, she reached for the radio clipped to her shoulder and began to repeat Gaines’s orders.

  Gaines looked over at David and Kimberly. The governor had an arm around his wife’s waist and was whispering to her. She nodded a few times and then left without a word. Gaines quirked an eyebrow at the other man, and David shrugged.

  “She’s going to coordinate with the bunker to see if Eden went back there. I’ll stay here and monitor the situation, if that’s okay with you.”

  Gaines grunted. “Not a problem. Let’s head over to Ops. They’ll have started a search by now. Surely someone has seen her.”

  They hopped in a Jeep outside of the main building, and the driver took off. Gaines knew his wife had set that up and yet again blessed whatever God or gods there might be that he had found her. As much as he’d pulled her off that cold continent at the bottom of the world, she’d rescued him right back.

  “We’ll find her, Governor,” he said, glancing sidelong at David. “You have my word.”

  The governor said nothing, just stared out at the night.

  Eden crouched low in the shadows between the nine-foot-tall, two-and-a-half-ton MTV and the warehouse. She’d managed to evade capture thus far, though she’d had to knock out Samuelsson, and she wasn’t happy about that.

  In the end, though, it was probably a mercy. A small bump on the head that he would get over fast, and she’d grab her needed supplies and be gone, out of everyone’s way. The best solution was to remove herself from the equation. It would be hard on her and her parents, she knew, but over time, they’d all see that it was the best decision. She was sacrificing herself for the good of the team, and wasn’t that the whole point?

  She doubted they’d even send more than a small patrol out after her. Not with the ramp-up for the other operations and the limited number of men and resources. Not for one girl. Her parents might order Gaines to do it, but he would fight them on it no matter how much he cared about her.

  She sighed and shook her head. One more person she wouldn’t be disappointing after today.

  The supplies had been easy to scrounge from the barracks, the kitchen, and various other sources. Her rifle had been the hardest. She’d snuck up on the armory guard and knocked him out, but he hadn’t made it easy. He’d have a helluva headache in the morning. Eden wished he’d just been asleep on duty.

  The hardest part had been waiting until dusk, knowing everyone was looking for her. She’d heard the commotion and had had one or two close calls as the soldiers turned the base upside down looking for her. It was surprising how many people overlooked rooftops, sewer gratings, and outhouses.

  If you wanted to hide, it wasn’t that hard. You just had to be willing to get a little dirty and smelly. She’d sure accomplished that last part and tried to block out the stench from her self-imposed confinement in a place she’d rather not think about. At least there were plenty of streams where she could take a bath later, albeit a frigid, numbing one. That’s what her survival blanket was for.

  Well, that and the firestarter kit.

  Dusk had finally come, though, and now was her chance. It appeared most everyone had clustered around the gates and the main buildings. They were sure that the outlying areas were secure. They were complacent, knowing that their impenetrable and electrified fence would keep anyone out.

  She looked underneath the truck beside her, estimating the distance between it and the fence. She knew she could clear it, even with the weight of her pack. She could see the near-invisible bundle that was her rifle too. She’d wrapped the weapon in her olive-green survival blanket before throwing it over the fence. No way she could carry that heavy bastard and her pack and make the jump too.

  For a split second, she reconsidered her decision to run. No. No, it was time to go. She couldn’t stand one more look of anger, annoyance, or worst of all, pity. She’d gotten someone killed, someone she’d liked. Someone who’d saved her life. Not to mention all the other things she’d fucked up over the years. None of them particularly major, but when you added them all up, it pointed to a pattern of being a shit soldier, even if she was good at killing things.

  She’d figure everything out on her own and come back someday. When she was ready. When she’d found a way to live with what she’d done, with the person that she’d become. The person who was so different from the woman she wanted to be.

  She climbed up the side of the truck, an easy feat with all its handholds and tiedowns. Before she cleared the top of the vehicle and skylined herself, she checked to see if anyone was watching. The beam from an automated spotlight from one of the towers crawled toward her
in the half-light. She ducked down until it went past, then rushed up onto the roof of the truck.

  There were four or five feet of space to clear and nothing but grass on the other side of the fence. She’d have to get some extra height to make it over the higher fence. She looked back and noticed it was only about a foot or two between the roof overhang of the warehouse and the cab of the truck. If she got some extra running room…

  Eden stepped onto the roof and crouched low behind the useless air conditioners. About ten feet to the edge. A run, a step, a jump, and freedom. Freedom to never hurt anyone again.

  She hit the truck’s cab hard enough to leave a dent, not breaking stride as she used her momentum and strength to push off. She vaulted over the fence and rolled as she hit the ground. A slight tug on her ACU pants told her she almost hadn’t cleared the razor wire, but she didn’t have time to stop. A shout from one of the watch towers and a spotlight swung in her direction prompted a quick snatch of the bundled rifle.

  She dashed across the open ground for the cover of the woods and the ruined buildings lining the safe zone. They might send up a helo if her parents overruled Gaines, who’d surely quash the idea due to limited fuel resources. She could already hear the squealing tires of the Humvees coming her way, though. That and the rattle of the gates as they opened, not to mention the base alarm.

  It didn’t make sense that they’d send all these people out after one runaway Hunter. But of course, she wasn’t just another Hunter, she was Eden Blake. It infuriated her that they would waste all this effort on her just because of who her parents were, and it reinforced her decision to leave. Her being special was putting more and more people at risk. It was time to put a stop to that. She knew Gaines would call off the search soon enough, regardless of her parents’ demands, because he was a good soldier.

  Eden took one last look at the base, then turned and disappeared into the foliage.