“Marnes… I think I remember him. Short, nasty little fellow?”
Graves smirked. “That’s him, sir.”
Ennis leaned forward, one hand on his temple. “Wasn’t there something about him and the secretary of defense? Didn’t they do something? I can’t quite remember…”
Graves scowled. “Yes, sir. They were collaborating with the monster Gardner to weaponize zombies, sir. Use them as combatants, even air-drop them if possible. At least General Maxwell believed so and had some evidence.” Graves paused and continued in a softer tone. “You yourself ordered both Gardner and the secretary arrested, sir. I believe you would’ve done the same to Marnes, had your chopper not gone down when it did.”
“And what happened to them? Gardner and the secretary?”
“The secretary of defense never made it out of Washington, DC, sir. There were… complications during his transport to a holding cell.”
Ennis raised an eyebrow but didn’t press the point. “And Gardner? I don’t remember what he did.”
“Well, sir, you’re better off if that’s the case. You don’t want to know.” Graves smiled, his normal warm grin replaced with a cold, calculating rictus. “Gardner got what was coming to him, sir.”
Ennis shivered at Graves’s tone and demeanor. “Okay. So, to sum up, I’ve been dead for twenty-five years, but not really, and the guy who was my VP now runs the country.”
“Yes, sir, that’s an accurate assessment.”
“So that leaves me with just one final question, Admiral.”
Graves nodded. “What the hell are my men and I doing in Pennsylvania?”
“That would be it, yes.”
“We should speak in private, sir.” Graves nodded in Marjorie’s direction.
Ennis didn’t so much as twitch. “Anything you have to say to me can be said in front of this woman. She saved my life, Admiral. She has as much of a right to hear it as anyone.”
“Yes, sir. I’m here because Gardner was just the tip of the iceberg.” Graves sat back and considered how to phrase what he had to say. “I know you like summaries, Mr. President, so here’s the gist of it. Bunker Four is now ruled by a madman, one of our own former personnel. This madman, Malcolm Dagger, has developed a method for weaponizing the zombie prion itself, not just the walkers, and has tested it against two other bunkers. Bunker Six, in California, is empty. Wiped out. Everyone there is dead. Bunker Nine got buried under heaps of Mississippi dirt because it’s full of nightmares created by Dagger. We call these super zombies Driebachs, after the name of one we were able to interview.”
The president started to speak, but Graves held up a hand. “Respectfully, Mr. President, if you can hold your questions, there’s more. The remaining bunkers and I believe that Dagger intends to or already has infiltrated Bunker Five. We believe he’s going to do this in an attempt to blackmail the other bunkers into doing whatever he wants. Intel said he’s going to threaten the launch of one or more nuclear missiles using the launch codes available to him in Bunker Five. That or launch more Tomahawks with prion payloads, likely against civilian targets this time.”
Ennis stayed quiet and waited for Graves to continue.
“Mr. President, the Bunker Council sent me to take Bunker Five and secure those launch codes. Not only so that Dagger can’t use them, but also so that we can.”
The president’s eyes widened. “Wait, you actually want to launch the missiles?”
“Well, yes and no. We only want to launch two of them. Specifically, two missiles armed with ‘bunker buster’ warheads, and only against the Driebachs in Bunker Nine.”
“Isn’t that a little dangerous?”
“Not as much as you’d think, sir. They’re precise weapons, and these have undergone continual maintenance since Z-Day. They’re on my sub, the Texas. They should do the job with minimal collateral damage. But whatever ramifications there are, they’ll be far, far less awful than letting thousands of Driebachs out into the world.”
“Are they really that bad?”
“Worse.”
“Any humans still in that bunker?”
Graves shook his head. “Not that we know of, sir, but I’m afraid it doesn’t matter. Even if they’re holed up somewhere inside the bunker, there’s no way out for them now. Not after we collapsed the entrance. They’re dead already—if there are any of them alive, anyway.”
“There’s no other way?”
“There may be a way to set off the bunker’s self-destruct system remotely, and our technicians are working on that, but if not, this will be the only option, sir.”
Ennis sighed and looked out the window as he ran a hand over his chin and the scraggly beard he’d grown after being asleep for months. “It’s a helluva thing, Admiral.”
“I agree, sir.”
“No, I didn’t mean the missiles. That sounds like a well-thought-out plan by you folks. What I meant was that it’s a helluva thing waking up from a long sleep and finding yourself starting to remember things from more than twenty years ago, not the least of which is that you’re the president of these here United States. That’s a lot to deal with, and now this…”
Graves nodded. “I understand, sir, and I wouldn’t normally have bothered you, but this is kind of a big deal. I actually wanted to sort of ease you into the decision-making process, sir, but there just isn’t time. I want to say it’ll get easier, but it won’t. There are a lot of hard choices to make in the next few months, sir.”
“Talk like that only makes it harder. Makes me want to crawl back into my bed and pull the covers over me. Same thing you would do, ain’t it?”
Graves remained silent and refused to take the bait.
“I’m not the president any more, Admiral. I’m just a man.” Ennis sat forward and rubbed his hands together, elbows on his knees. “I wouldn’t even know how to be president now.”
Graves shook his head. “With respect, sir, that’s not the case. Though I’ll grant you that the situation is unusual, I’m sure if any were left, we could find some Constitutional lawyers who’d argue that you’re still the president. I think our current situation is a bit beyond anything the Founding Fathers envisioned anyway. To top it off, Marnes is clearly unfit for office, and now that you’ve been found alive, he should step down anyway.
“We can get you back to civilian life once the crisis is over, and we’ll hold elections or whatever, but now is not the time for that. We need a leader, sir. A leader people my age remember. Someone our military folks will respect and take orders from.”
Ennis grunted, ceding the point to the younger man. He looked up at the admiral. “Do you know what happened to my wife? My children?”
“My understanding is that they made it safe and sound to the bunker during the evac on Z-Day, sir. I would assume that they’re still there.”
The trio remained silent as Ennis continued to look out the window at the folks going about their business in a small town. After a long moment, he sighed and turned back to the admiral. “What do you need from us?”
“I’m glad you asked, sir.” He pulled a small notebook from his pocket and opened it. “I’ve got some notes here…”
Staging Area
New Salisbury, Pennsylvania
Jackson looked up as Graves walked into the temporary HQ tent that the Fleet forces had set up. Concealed in heavy pine forest from prying eyes, it was invisible to anyone who didn’t know exactly where to look.
“How we looking, Jack?” Graves asked and glanced around the tent to find everything in tip-top shape, as he expected from his XO. “Everything good to go?”
“Yes, sir. Roving patrols, a pair of scouts out working their way to the bunker, and we’ll have comms to Bunker One in a few moments.”
“Excellent.”
“Sir, who was that back there?”
Graves turned to the younger man, surprised. “What do you mean, ‘who was that?’”
“Just that, sir. I have no idea who that man was.
”
He sighed. “Sometimes I forget how young you are,” he said. He looked around at most of the men in his unit. They all were or were close to the same age as the commander. “I forget how young you all are.” He paused for a moment. “That man was—is—the president of the United States, Ennis Norman.”
“No shit, sir?”
Graves chuckled. “No shit. As far as you and I and our unit and the rest of the smart folks go, he’s still the president too.”
“What about Marnes, sir?”
“Fuck Marnes,” Graves said as he glowered at the commander.
Jackson nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Now get me Bunker One.”
“Right away, sir.”
Graves only had a moment or two to take in the view of the spectacular Pennsylvania woods before O’Reilly notified him the connection was ready to go. He moved back inside the tent and sat down in front of the comm gear.
“Papa Bear, this is Baby Bear. Do you read me, Papa Bear?”
There was silence. Then a voice came through, one Graves recognized as David Blake’s. “This is… ahem, this is Papa Bear.” The man was clearly trying to stifle a chuckle. “Go ahead, ‘Baby Bear.’”
“Har har har. Tell your wife I get to pick the codenames next time.”
“You bet. What’s your status?”
Graves lowered his voice, not wanting any would-be spies who might have made it through the perimeter to overhear him. It was enemy country, after all. “We’ve got a situation here you need to be aware of. Mockingbird is alive. Say again, Mockingbird is alive.”
Silence was the only response, and it was long enough that he was about to ask if they needed to re-establish the link when Blake came back on the line. “Sorry, Baby Bear, can you repeat? Mama Bear is now listening.”
“Say again, Mockingbird is alive. He’s impaired, though. Severe memory loss. Even so, he and the locals were able to give us some useful intelligence. We are still a go for the op. Mockingbird is on-board with our original plan in all respects.”
The response this time came from Kimberly. “What’s your estimate on mission go?”
“We need to confirm some of the intelligence, map out some routes, a few other things. Give me three days?”
There was a long pause. “Roger that, Baby Bear. Three days is good. We’ll contact you again when everything’s set on our end.”
“Acknowledged, Mama Bear. Baby Bear out.”
Graves sighed. “Next time, I get to pick the code names. Let’s get started on this intel and surveillance. We don’t have much time.” He glanced out the tent flap to the northwest and Mount Davis, invisible from his present position. He could feel it weighing on him, pressing him downward, threatening to roll over him like Sisyphus’s boulder. One day, he’d be free of all this.
But for now, Graves sighed again and turned back to the small table. “Let me see those maps, Jack.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Mount Rainier National Park
25 miles east of Joint Base Lewis-McChord
Washington
Eden Blake shivered and ran her hands through her hair, then squeezed it again as she tried to wring as much water out of it as she could. Just over three weeks in the woods and only the second time she’d taken a “bath” in the river—really, just dunked herself while fishing. Smelling nice wasn’t as important as not freezing to death, and that water was fucking cold.
She took stock of her situation, as she did each day at noon. She’d just caught a fish, and she could forage for food when the rations ran out or the fish weren’t running. She’d already had a good meal from a brace of rabbits she’d caught. There was plenty of ammo, but she was running low on water pills and she didn’t relish boiling everything before drinking it.
Once she’d established her camp and could see something beyond the next few hours, Eden had cried herself to sleep the next few nights. The pain and loneliness of knowing she’d never see her parents or baby brother again was almost more than she could bear. Especially George Jr, who was right at the age where he was still looking up to her but smart enough to know how to be cool about most things.
She’d originally thought that she was no good for people and needed to stay away. She’d only caused them harm so far, and to keep them from further hurt, she would leave them alone.
There was a certain logic to that, but as she’d spent these days and nights away from everyone, she’d also come to realize that she probably could have helped them. If she’d been a little less self-centered, a little more of a team player. But how do you just go back? How do you apologize to everyone you’ve ever known? What was the answer? Where was the fix?
Still, all things considered, she wasn’t too bad off. The few regular walkers in the area had gone down easy, and she’d rigged some basic alarms for any that might approach. Any soldiers that came across them would see the tripwires and could just step right over. But walkers or runners would set ‘em off, and that was good enough.
Except for the Driebachs. She’d stayed silent and cold for several nights when she’d first arrived. There’d been no sign of the monsters when she arrived, but it didn’t take long for them to make their presence known.
Wild animals generally consumed their prey whole. They didn’t normally pick the meat off the bones. After the first few kills she’d found, Eden realized what was going on and began tracking their movements. If she was right, they’d have circled back by now to her west, looking for more animals or unlucky ExForce personnel.
She wasn’t about to let that happen. Even if she wasn’t a part of their military anymore, she could still do something to protect them. Besides, she hated the things. One less Driebach in the world was worth a little recon.
Eden wrapped her hair in an extra shirt and squeezed hard again. A little more water this time, but it was mostly dry, and that would have to do. She spread the shirt out on a rock to let it dry and then grabbed her pack and rifle.
The trip westward to where she thought the Driebachs would be was hard, with rough terrain and lots of blind alleys and backtracking. It took her longer than it should have to make it to the rendezvous point. She stayed low and climbed a tall outcropping of rock for a better angle and was not at all surprised to see several Driebachs gathered around a firepit.
Since when did Driebachs cook their food? This was all wrong, but there they were all the same. And she could just hear them talking, though she couldn’t make it out clearly. As if Driebachs weren’t bad enough, she could tell they were discussing something. She pulled out her binocs, but her talent for lip-reading was useless when the targets had no lips to begin with. If only she’d been able to take a radio mic with her for long-distance surveillance.
Shoulda, coulda, woulda. She had what she had, and she’d have to make do. Even with her skills, she couldn’t take out three at once. And who knew if there were more out there, just waiting for her to slip up and fall right into their clutches?
No, she’d have to wait, wait for her chance to catch one alone. She crept closer, desperate to hear something, anything. Finally, one of them spoke, her voice deeper than the others, and it carried a little farther. In this case, right to the waiting Eden Blake. Unfortunately, she still had no idea what they were saying.
“Eímai kourasménos apó ta kounélia kai skíouroi. Thélo to kréas. Pragmatikó kréas. Gýro apó-tin-dýo-podión perpatímatos kréas!” There was a general chorus of assent, but no one else spoke, so she continued. “Emeís prépei na epitethoún se éna peripolikó.”
A new voice spoke out of the shadows to her right, and Eden froze, as she was trained. This one was deeper still, masculine, and rasped through its ruined throat so badly, Eden couldn’t even distinguish individual words—not that she would’ve understood them anyway.
The new Driebach threw a bundle into the circle of firelight, and with her binocs, Eden could see that it was a human. Dressed in rags, the man was dirty and looked ill, with a sunken face a
nd patches of hair falling out. She wondered where he’d been hiding, not that it mattered. Not now. The cringing wretch wasn’t AEGIS, and she could do nothing but watch helplessly as the circle of evil fell upon the poor man with fervent, deliberate efficiency.
She used the sounds they made to cover her retreat and didn’t let herself react until she was already back at her campsite. She couldn’t hold back anymore and puked up her breakfast, though she had retained her survival instincts and used a pot that she’d just cleaned that morning to avoid soiling the campsite.
Eden didn’t want to move again, not so soon. She’d only been here three days.
After rinsing out the pot once more and coming back to camp, Eden collapsed against one of the rock walls under her makeshift shelter. She watched her hands as they shook with repressed emotion. Anger, fear, hatred, and more were all raging inside her, wanting to let themselves out and wanting a Driebach as the target.
Eden shook her head at her own thoughts and wishes. Now was not the time. She needed to prepare some more before venturing out to face the monsters. Doing it now would be almost certain death. No, she needed more intel. She needed to track them some more.
Fortunately, she excelled at tracking. And once she knew where their lair was, where they stayed, and where they avoided staying, it would be war. Eden might not be welcome back at the base, but she could at least take out this threat to them while she was out here.
She could at least be good for something.
Eden looked westward. “I’m coming for you,” she whispered.
Expeditionary Force HQ
Joint Base Lewis-McChord
Tacoma, Washington
“One more time, Lieutenant. I don’t think I heard you right.”
“Colonel, I believe that whomever is ghosting these Driebachs has ExForce training, sir.” Lieutenant Luis Marquez sat across from his commander, Colonel Gaines, and pointed to the map again. “All of the corpses have been found in a more-or-less straight line due east of us, which suggests someone coming from or going to the base. Since the first corpses were found closest to us, I’m guessing they’re headed away.”
The Dying of the Light (Book 3): Beginning Page 21