by Jake Bible
***
Three corridors later, and several turns that nearly make the Mates dizzy, they arrive at a steel door with multiple warnings stenciled across it, all faded from time.
The Mates stop and Sister pops a panel open to the right of the doors.
“Give me a minute,” she says.
While Sister works, Stanford takes Val by the arm and looks her over.
“You okay?” he asks.
“I’m fine,” Val says. “But I’m worried about Tommy Bombs.”
They both glance at the man covered in blood. His usual jitteriness has doubled and he stands there, literally shaking in his boots as he stares off into space.
“Seeing Carlotta die like that messed him up,” Val says.
“It didn’t mess me up,” Tommy Bombs says. “So stop talking about me like I’m not standing right here. Just a lot to fucking take in, okay?”
“Okay, sorry,” Val says.
“Go it,” Sister announces and the steel door slides open to reveal a fairly ordinary-looking room with a bank of control panels bolted above several metal desks. “The genetic authorization panel is the middle one. Let’s get this done and then we need to hurry and find a communications station. The one in here doesn’t work. I’ve tried.”
“A communication’s station?” Cole asks. “Why?”
“So we can warn the Stronghold,” Sister says. “Did you think those were all of the Code Monkeys?”
“What are you talking about?” Cole asks.
“The ones we killed back in the lab,” Sister says. “The ones I chased down. That’s not enough. There are more. Plenty more and I know where they are headed.”
“Oh, Jesus,” Stanford says. “Skye said that everyone must die. She means the Stronghold too, doesn’t she? Does she know all of the Mates are down here?”
“She might,” Sister says, rushing over to the authorization console. “Doesn’t matter. There are Code Monkeys heading to the new Stronghold now. If only a few get in there, it’ll be slaughter.”
“I’ll go look for a comm system,” Cole says. “You punch in the codes.”
“Do you know how to work a comm system?” Sister asks. “Have you ever worked a comm system?”
“I can figure it out,” Cole says.
“No, you can’t,” Sister says. “Just trying to dial in the right channel can take a rookie an hour. This isn’t like lighting a signal pyre.”
“And Skye is still out there,” Val says.
“Exactly,” Sister responds. “Help clean Diaz’s shoulder and pack it with gauze. There’s a first aid kit hanging on the wall over there,”
Cole doesn’t argue, just walks to the first aid kit, muttering curses under his breath.
“You,” Sister says and points at Val. “Come here and get ready to have your finger pricked. The system needs DNA confirmation before we enter the final codes simultaneously and send control up to the new Stronghold. The real Stronghold.”
Chapter Eleven- A Stronghold State Of Mind
Hamish stands by the massive doors to the new Stronghold, his doctor’s eyes surveying the residents as they straggle inside once their names and numbers have been called.
He knows almost everyone by their health history. There goes the bleeding ulcer. The sprained knee is busy arguing with the infected toenail by the far wall. Tinnitus is flirting with severe hemorrhoids. Stomach cancer is telling jokes to carpal tunnel and rosacea.
Hamish looks about the huge entryway behind him, a massive room nearly a hundred feet tall and just as wide and deep, and sees years and years of care. Generations of families he’s gotten to know even in his short few years as head physician at the Stronghold hospital.
But one case he doesn’t see is severe cirrhosis of the liver.
“Hey, Sheriff?” Hamish asks, catching the attention of Sheriff Marsh as the man walks by with an armload of blankets and sheets. “Have you seen Collin? Collin Baptiste?”
“No. Why? What has he done now?” Marsh asks. “Did he try to steal your compounds again? I told him the next time he pilfered from the pharmacy I was going to throw him in a deep dark hole for a year.”
“No, he hasn’t stolen anything,” Hamish replies. “At least, not that I know of. It’s just with Val gone, I said I’d watch out for him and make sure he got into the new Stronghold safely.”
“Kinda failed at that job, didn’t you?” Marsh laughs. “Hold on. Let me set these down and I’ll help you look.”
“Oh, you don’t need to do that,” Hamish says. “You’re busy. I can probably find him on my own.”
“I’ve known Collin my whole life, Doc,” Marsh says. “That man can hide if he wants to. Lucky for you, I know all of his regular haunts. We’ll try at his house first.”
“You think he’d hide there?” Hamish asks. “That’s pretty obvious.”
“Collin is a drunk and a junkie,” Marsh says. “But more than all of that, he’s a lazy son of a bitch. If he can get high without leaving his house then he’ll do it.”
“Okay, thank you,” Hamish says. “I really appreciate it. If I lost him and Val found out, I don’t know what I’d do.”
Marsh looks at Hamish for a second, a kindness in his eyes.
“It’s good you have hope she’ll come back,” Marsh says. “Hope gets us through a lot.”
“She’s coming back,” Hamish says. “I know it.”
***
The porch step squeaks as Collin places his left foot on it. He lifts his foot then sets it down again, making the squeak at will. Up and down, up and down. Squeak, squeak.
He takes a swig from the Mason jar, its clear contents sloshing about but not quite spilling. Collin doesn’t even wince as the highly flammable liquid slides down his throat. It would take molten lava to affect the seasoned esophagus of such a veteran drinker. Years of pounding homemade alcohol has conditioned Collin’s entire system for the flaming hammer blows the hooch delivers from lips to gut.
Squeak, squeak. Sip, sip. Burp. Laugh. Fart.
“Excuse me,” Collin says to no one. He takes a deep breath and gags. “Oh, man, damn. That is dead. Whatever is up my ass is dead. Dead, dead…dead…”
Collin squints into the darkness of the late autumn night. Barely any stars out and the moon stuck behind a bank of thick, grey clouds, makes visibility nearly impossible, but Collin is not just a veteran drinker. He’s a veteran survivor. He saw something. He knows it.
“Well,” Collin mutters. “Let’s go have a look.”
Without letting go of the jar of hooch, Collin picks up a 12-gauge pump-action shotgun and grips it in one hand. Not the most steady hand, but steady enough for a shell of buckshot to do some damage.
He walks down off the porch and stares into the deep, dark shadows across the street. The Gunndersons had left with all of their belongings a couple hours ago, so he knows what he saw wasn’t Larry double checking that the windows were boarded tight. Which was totally something Larry Gunnderson would do. The guy obsessed about following Stronghold council orders.
Collin, on the other hand, couldn’t give two wet, runny shits about anything the council has to say. Hence the one last jar of hooch before being tossed inside some fortress with all the rule followers, normals, and morons. One last jar of hooch before he finds out what the harsh reality of a full detox feels like. That was what the shotgun was for.
Collin hasn’t quite decided if living inside the new Stronghold is his cup of tea. He might just skip the door closing ceremony and gnaw on the barrel of the shotgun. Gnaw and gnaw until the thing accidentally goes off. Another reason for the jar of hooch. Liquid courage is a coward’s best friend.
He crosses the street, shotgun in a relaxed aim at the shadows.
“Larry?” he calls out even though he knows it’s not Larry. Collin can’t think of what else to call out. “Hey, Gunnderson? That you?”
It is not Larry Gunnderson.
Flashbacks of bloody violence in the streets of the Strong
hold rush through Collin’s mind as the eyeless person sprints towards him, blades in both hands.
The blast from the shotgun is extremely loud and surprises Collin enough that he almost drops his hooch. Almost. He stares down at his weapon, but doesn’t see smoke coming from the barrel. In fact, he doesn’t remember any kick either.
The Code Monkey writhes on the ground, his rib cage exposed to the night air, blood spilling into the Gunnderson’s front yard, staining the brown dirt and stray pine needles.
“You’re welcome,” Marsh says from the next yard over. “I wouldn’t want you to put your booze down or anything.”
“Thanks for that,” Collin says, lifting the jar in Marsh’s direction. He takes a quick sip and nods at the dying man at his feet. “Looks like we got ourselves a Monkey problem again.”
“Looks like it,” Marsh says.
“What happened? What was that gunshot?” Hamish asks, jogging up behind Marsh, extremely winded and looking like he’s going to throw up. “You took off running so fast I couldn’t keep up.”
“This is what my daughter chooses to love,” Collin says and smirks before taking another sip. “She’s man enough for both of them, I guess.”
“Come on, Collin,” Marsh says. “We need to get back to the new Stronghold and warn everyone. There could be more.”
“Probably are,” Collin agrees. “What do you think, Doctor Turdlington?”
“Terlington,” Hamish corrects. “And go fuck yourself, Collin.”
“Gonna have to say I approve of your daughter’s choice, Collin,” Marsh says. “He knows where to stand with you.”
Collin lifts the shotgun and Marsh’s eyes go wide just before he grabs Hamish by the arm and dives to the ground. This time it is Collin’s shotgun that breaks the silence of the night. A woman screams and grabs at her face, the machete in her hand falling into the dirt only a foot from Hamish. Blood pours through her fingers as she collapses to her knees.
Collin steadies himself from the recoil of the blast and then smiles at the bleeding woman. He walks over to her and puts the shotgun to her head. She shrieks and starts to bat it away, but Collin pulls the trigger a split second faster than her hands can move.
The woman’s brains spray out the back of her head and create a fanlike mosaic of grey matter, blood, and bone upon the ground. Collin drinks deeply from his jar and cocks his head.
“Looks like a volcano,” he says, pointing with the shotgun at the bloody mess. “Hey! Hamish! What do you think it looks like?”
Marsh picks himself up then helps the doctor to his feet.
“Leave him alone, Collin,” Marsh says. “That’s two just here. That means not only are there more, there are probably a lot more. We need to go now.”
“Nah, you guys go on,” Collin says. “I’m going for a walk. Gonna listen to the Zs pound on the wall for a bit. It’s soothing.”
“The only walk you are going on is with me to the Stronghold,” Marsh says. “And by walk, I mean a fast run. Put the hooch down and puke now if you need to.”
“Puke?” Collin laughs. “And waste perfectly good alcohol? Fuck you, Ward.”
“You blew her head off,” Hamish says, staring at the corpse. “She was wounded and you shot her again.”
“Good observation skills, Doc,” Collin says. “You might have a future in the sciences. You should look into that.”
“But she was harmless,” Hamish says.
“That’s bullshit,” Marsh responds. “None of these bastards are harmless. Not ever.”
Collin looks up into the sky suddenly.
“What?” Hamish asks, spinning around quickly, fear on his face. “What do you see?”
“I was looking for flying pigs,” Collin says. “Because Sheriff Ward Marsh just agreed with me.”
“We run,” Marsh says. “Now.”
Collin is about to argue again, but two things happen.
There is the sound of several screams of pain in the direction of the new Stronghold.
And the sound of metal and wood cracking and crashing to the ground in the direction of the main gate.
“Sounds like we’re about to have a party,” Collin says and lifts his jar. “L’chaim!”
***
“The system has been activated and we now have control over the full nuclear arsenal on this continent,” Kevin Ross says as he sits at a dusty console in a dusty room. “We can launch on your orders, Commander Lee.”
Commander Maura Lee takes a deep breath then stands from the dusty chair set in the middle of the dusty room. She stares at the winking and blinking monitors that fill one wall of the room, all showing various angles of large missiles housed in silos across hundreds of miles to the north. The Silo Teams had done their job getting the cameras working, the Code Monkeys had done there’s getting the missiles prepped. Now she must do hers.
She says a silent prayer over the lives that were lost making everything happen. Lives she willingly sacrificed in order to have the weapons needed to hopefully eradicate the Z menace that has finally overtaken the land.
“Commander?” Kevin asks. “Shall I initiate the launch for you?”
“Yes, Kevin. It is time to—” Commander Lee begins then stops as noise from outside the room reaches her ears. While not sound proof, the room is fortified enough that whatever is happening must be extremely loud to penetrate the walls. “What is that?”
She looks at two guards that stand on either side of the door and points at one.
“Go see what is happening out there,” Commander Lee orders. “I’m sure it is someone arguing about food or where they have been assigned to sleep. People do not seem to grasp what is at stake anymore.”
“I don’t think people know what is at stake,” Kevin responds. “Since no one has actually explained it to them.”
“Not having this argument again, Kevin,” Commander Lee snaps.
The guard opens the door and steps into the hallway. He makes it a foot before he stops dead in his tracks. Literally dead in his tracks as a machete pierces his chest and out his back. The guard stands for a second then collapses into a heap, his rifle clattering to the ground and sliding across the concrete right to Commander Lee’s feet.
The experienced soldier doesn’t hesitate, or wait for the other guard to react; she picks up the rifle, puts it to her shoulder and steps out into the hallway. Even before she sees the attacker, she knows what she will find. Two shots and the Code Monkey’s head explodes.
Commander Lee steps back into the room and slams the door shut. She punches in a code and there is the sound of several heavy bars sliding into place within the walls. She hands the rifle to the stunned guard and moves next to Kevin’s spot at the launch console.
“All targets are confirmed?” she asks. There are several muffled gunshots and more than a few barely audible screams from outside the room. Kevin turns and looks towards the door, but Commander Lee smacks him upside the head. “Kevin! Are all targets confirmed?”
“Yes, Commander,” Kevin replies, rubbing at his head. “One hundred and sixty-five missiles all locked onto the largest urban centers. Or former urban centers. Two hundred and fifteen missiles locked onto the various rural and open space locations that the woman gave us. The launch should wipe out nearly ninety percent of the Zs out there.”
“Ninety percent,” Commander Lee says. “Will that be enough?”
“It will be enough to give humanity a fighting chance,” Kevin says. “We’ve all seen the numbers, Commander. If we can double the population inside here then we will be able stage an offensive once we emerge. If we emerge.”
“No ifs, Kevin,” Commander Lee says. “We will emerge. I just pray there are others like us that will emerge as well. God only knows what will happen when the time comes to open those doors and we are all that is left.”
“That’s the risk we’re taking launching at all of the major urban centers, Commander,” Kevin says. “The death of possible survivor pockets that t
he woman hasn’t found.”
Commander Lee smirks. “I do not believe there are such things out there.”
There’s a high squelch and crackle and Commander Lee jumps. The guard by the door twists around and brings up his rifle, but Commander Lee holds up a hand and glares at him.
“Keep it in check, Mr. Jorgens,” she snaps. “It is the comm system.”
“Yes, sir,” Jorgens nods. “My apologies.”
“Hello?” a voice calls out from the static. “This is Cheyenne Mountain calling the Stronghold, over. Please come in, over.”
Commander Lee moves to the comm system and picks up the handset.
“This is the Stronghold. Commander Lee speaking. Identify yourself,” she replies then looks at Kevin and frowns. “Over?”
“Sister here, loud and clear, talking at ya from deep inside the mountain,” the voice responds. There is some muttering and some scuffling.
“It’s Val, Aunt Maura,” Val calls. “I have the comm now.” There’s a shout in the background. “No, I am using it. You’re just going to say weird things like always.”
“Val, what the hell is going on?” Commander Lee asks.
“Just Sister messing with the comm,” Val says. “Listen, we think there may be Code Monkeys heading your way.”
“We are aware of that,” Commander Lee says. “And they are already here.”
“How many?” Val asks. “We killed a lot, but not enough. You could have close to a dozen inside the walls.”
“I have killed one, so make that under a dozen,” Commander Lee says. “I have the launch room secured and we are initiating the launch now. Will you be able to return before we close the outside doors?”
Val’s voice is muffled then grows strong again. “I doubt it.” More muffled talking. “Really? You can do that? Bullshit.”
“Val? What is she saying?” Commander Lee asks.
“She thinks we can get back to the Stronghold with the fuel we have left in the helicopter,” Val says. “We may not make it all the way to the front doors, but we’ll get close.”