Pandemic: Quietus: A Post-Apocalyptic Dystopian Fiction Series (The Pandemic Series Book 4)

by Bobby Akart

  Before they went to sleep, Hunter made an interesting discovery by looking through the viewers. Parts of Colorado Springs had electricity and they were residential neighborhoods, not military installations. Because of the distance and the mountains, which obscured his field of vision, Hunter wasn’t able to specifically identify the locations, but one was along the road he’d identified the day before as their likely path to Cheyenne Mountain.

  Mac began to stir, so he welcomed her awake. After they worked the kinks and soreness out of their muscles, they rummaged through the café’s kitchen in search of anything that resembled breakfast.

  A search of the pantry produced honey buns, and the employee break room rewarded them with a four-pack of Starbucks Double Shot cans of espresso. This was a score worth all the gold in the mountain.

  The sun was just peeking over the horizon when they loaded up in the white Ford F-250 utility truck parked inside the shed. It was full of fuel and the rear had additional gas cans, albeit empty. The truck also had a toolbox attached to its bed. This would provide them some additional cover in the event they got ambushed like the day before.

  “Saddle up, cowgirl,” said Hunter as he encouraged Mac toward their new ride with a gentle nudge.

  Mac, who was still not a morning person despite the end of the world as they knew it, moped to the passenger side. Hunter suspected she’d be hard to get started, so he snuck his second Double Shot into his pocket to reward her when she was ready to go.

  They were both in the truck, buckled up, and ready to head out when he presented her with the extra can of espresso.

  “You do love me,” she purred.

  “I know you, too,” he said with a laugh. “I’m hoping this will get your blue eyes wide open to help me navigate and watch for trouble. But, yes, I do love you.”

  Hunter took off down the hill and ignored the solar-powered flashing red light that greeted him at the highway. Things would be moving quickly now and he was glad to get started just as the sun brightened the sky.

  By his calculations, they’d turn off the highway in about two miles and then follow the base of the adjacent mountain. He had no idea how to get to Cheyenne Mountain and knew that the military probably had a significant presence around it. He’d brought his credentials from the FBI and the DTRA. Mac had stuck her CDC and temporary CIA identifications in her backpack as well. These forms of ID might not have helped them with the thugs in the shoot-out yesterday, but they would carry some weight when they approached law enforcement or the military.

  The highway flattened out and Hunter knew he was getting closer to the road he sought when he began to see residential rooftops in all directions. The highway divided and more stalled cars appeared, as well as corpses. Dozens of buzzards picked at the rotting flesh, causing Mac to look away.

  “If it’s like this here, imagine in the center of the city or around those high-rise condos,” said Mac after regaining her composure. She reached into the storage compartment behind her seat and retrieved her backpack. She pulled out two masks for them to put on, as well as their nitrile gloves. “Just in case.”

  Hunter nodded and steered with his knee for a moment while he affixed his gear. They traveled another mile, rounded the final bend, and then Hunter abruptly stopped.

  In front of them was a group of a dozen or more men, women, and children walking up the highway. They were pushing shopping carts and pulling toy wagons full of clothes. One pregnant woman pushed a stroller with a toddler strapped in.

  “My God, Hunter.”

  “Breaks my heart, Mac. But we have to be careful. Never underestimate any contact.”

  Hunter eased down the shoulder of the road to allow the group plenty of room on the other side. As they got closer, an emaciated man waved to them. Mac stared at the procession and then gently touched Hunter on the arm.

  “Hunter, can we talk to them?”

  Hunter exhaled and half shook his head. “Okay, but have your gun ready. Do not assume these people are safe because they look like they’ve got one foot in the grave. They may not look infected, but that doesn’t mean they’re not armed.”

  Hunter rolled down his window. “Where you folks headed?”

  “We heard it was safer up toward Cascade and Woodland Park,” replied a man wearing mismatched clothing and sneakers. The clothes hung on him as if he’d lost forty pounds.

  “It’s not,” replied Hunter. “We got shot at up in Cavern Gulch, this side of Woodland Park. The town looks like everyone is dead from the plague. I have a better place for you.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “Up ahead, there’s a place called Cave of the Wind, do you—”

  “I know it,” the man said. He looked down at the ground. His teary eyes looked directly at Hunter. “I took my family there when they were alive. This here’s my family now.” He turned and waved his arm at the rest of the refugees in the group.

  “It’s not much farther,” continued Hunter. “At the traffic signal, you’ll have to turn up the hill. It’s a pretty tough walk, but it’ll be worth it. There’s quite a bit of food and some clothes in the gift shop. It’s also fairly secure.”

  “Thank you, sir!” exclaimed one of the women.

  “God bless you,” said another.

  The group began to walk up the road when Hunter hollered at the man, “Do you know where the military checkpoints or camps are located?”

  “The closest National Guard location is at Star Ranch on the way to NORAD. They made it nice for the muckity-mucks and left the rest of us to fend for ourselves.”

  “What’s Star Ranch?” asked Mac.

  “It’s a gated subdivision, but now it’s one of the safe zones. None of us belonged, so now we’re leaving.”

  The man began to walk again and Hunter asked him one more question. “How do I get to Star Ranch?”

  “Down a bit and to your right,” he replied. “Follow the base of the mountain. They’ll find you before you find them. No matter what you do, don’t go straight into town. You’ll probably die.”

  Hunter placed the truck into drive and coasted down the hill toward civilization.

  Chapter 26

  Day Eighty-Six

  West Colorado Springs

  “Hunter, what’s happening here? Who’s being quarantined, the ill or the well?” Mac rolled down her window and took in the sights and sounds, or lack thereof. There were no vehicles in operation. No steady hum of machinery or air conditioners distracted her senses. All her mind could soak in was a major city, bleak and desolate and a shell of its former self.

  “Last night, I took another look through those viewer things,” started Hunter. “There was a neighborhood in this direction that was lit up. At first, I thought it might be related to Cheyenne Mountain, but it’s not far enough south. It’s gotta be the Star Ranch place that guy was talking about.”

  “Hunter, the road’s blocked!” said Mac, pointing ahead as Hunter took a slight curve through the outskirts of a neighborhood.

  Hunter stopped short of the eight or ten parked vehicles, which took up the entire street. Landscape boulders in the front yard of the home to his left blocked their truck’s path through the grass, and the steeply rising ridge on their right prevented any route around the obstruction.

  “I don’t see anyone, but that doesn’t mean they’re not there,” said Hunter.

  “There was a street that turned left back there,” added Mac. “Let’s try it. We can work our way south, even if we have to drive through yards.”

  For the next thirty minutes, Hunter and Mac looked for ways through the maze of neighborhood roads. Someone had meticulously planned and positioned vehicles throughout the side streets to prevent, or at least slow, access toward the south. Stymied, Hunter stopped and shut off the truck.

  “Fine, people, you win!” Hunter voiced his frustration. “It’s not that we’re in some hellfire emergency to get there although the longer we’re out here, the more dangerous it is.”
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  “They’re forcing us closer to town,” interrupted Mac.

  “Exactly, and farther away from the base of the mountain where I think Star Ranch is located. Mac, how do you feel about walking?”

  “More risky and slower,” she replied. “But we’ll never get there at this pace. Plus, remember what that guy said about them seeing us before we see them. We’re not sneaking up on anybody in this jalopy.”

  Hunter reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He and Mac carried them constantly for their iPhones to use as a camera and for their GPS capability.

  “In case things go bad, we can find our way back here. Actually, I like walking up to the front door better. Even a slow-approaching vehicle puts soldiers on edge.”

  Hunter and Mac donned their backpacks and began to walk through the neighborhood back to the road, which meandered along the base of the mountain. At first, they were diligent in using parked vehicles as cover to avoid detection by anyone living in the homes along the way. Eventually, they walked down the middle of the street. They didn’t see a single living human being during their first hour of walking until they came upon Cheyenne Mountain High School.

  A white, nondescript utility van was parked on the rise above them as they walked down the sidewalk through several trees. After they’d passed the parked van, it suddenly started up, which sent Mac and Hunter scrambling for cover, with each hiding behind their own oak tree.

  The van backed up out of their field of vision, then sped off toward the south end of the parking lot and out a back exit.

  “What was all that about?” asked Mac.

  “I dunno,” said Hunter as he jogged ahead to join her. “I’m pissed that I let my guard down, though. Here’s the thing. They didn’t have to reveal themselves. We’d already passed them.”

  “Yeah, they could’ve just waited for us to walk off,” added Mac. “No, they were up to something and seeing us caused them to panic. But hey, at least they didn’t shoot at us. That’s progress.”

  “Or maybe they’re some kind of advance scout for those guys,” said Hunter, nodding down the road toward two Humvees speeding in their direction.

  “What do we do?” asked Mac.

  Hunter gauged their speed as they approached. The soldiers appeared to be on a mission to get somewhere, but not necessarily to confront them. “We’re here to make contact with the military; there’s no time like the present. Hold this for me.” He handed Mac his rifle.

  He stepped out into the road and waved his arms to get the attention of the driver. He’d already pulled out his DTRA identification and his temporary FBI credentials to provide them evidence of credibility.

  The Humvees never slowed down, roaring past Hunter and throwing a stinging mist of gravel and dust onto his face.

  “Well, all righty then.” He chuckled, looking at Mac in disbelief. “I suppose they’ve got bigger fish to fry. We’ll keep goin’.”

  Hunter retrieved his rifle and they started in the same southerly direction, periodically walking through yards and hugging the base of the mountain. They began a long stretch adjacent to a golf course, using the cart paths instead of the sidewalk to continue their trip. They climbed up an embankment and found the road again, when they heard the distinctive roar of the Humvee’s tires behind them.

  Hunter and Mac ran up the incline and ducked into the driveway of a McMansion overlooking an open field.

  “Do we try it again?” asked Mac, but Hunter never had a chance to answer.

  “Drop your weapons!” a voice boomed over a loudspeaker behind them.

  At the top of the rise, a dozen soldiers were advancing toward them with their rifles illuminating their bodies with red dots from their laser sights.

  “Slow and easy, Mac,” said Hunter. “Follow my lead by keeping your arms and hands away from your body and gently lower your rifle to the ground like this.”

  Hunter firmly gripped his AR-10 and slowly crouched to the ground before setting it on the concrete driveway. Mac followed his lead.

  “Don’t shoot!” hollered Hunter in response. “We’re going to remove our sidearms. Two fingers, okay? We’re both active-duty military, so we know the drill.” Mac was, after all, a lieutenant commander in the U.S. Public Health Service.

  “Slowly,” the man behind the loudspeaker bellowed.

  Simultaneously, Mac and Hunter unclipped their holsters and removed their weapons, once again gently laying them on the ground. Hunter held his hands high and wide over his head. Mac did the same. He knew the best way to keep from getting killed by law enforcement or the military police in a tense situation was to comply with their commands. It was just that simple.

  The Humvees caught up with them and screeched to a halt at the end of the driveway. Within seconds, Mac and Hunter were surrounded.

  Chapter 27

  Day Eighty-Six

  Star Ranch

  Colorado Springs

  It took fifteen minutes of convincing for the sergeant in charge of these men to accept that Mac and Hunter weren’t infected with the plague. One of the soldiers put on a mask, gloves, and goggles and approached them with an electronic forehead thermometer. When both of their temperatures read normal, the sergeant declared them to be safe, a potentially deadly mistake but not in this case.

  Mac was placed in the back of one Humvee and Hunter was placed in the back of the other. Their weapons were taken away and a sergeant who didn’t identify himself placed their backpacks and rifles on the hood of each truck. Mac couldn’t discern what he was saying to the listener on the other side of the military radio, but he constantly referred to their identification and periodically held them up to compare their faces to the images on the laminated cards.

  The sergeant hung up the phone and began to rifle through Hunter’s backpack, brusquely unloading the contents on the hood of the truck. When he grabbed for Mac’s backpack, she began yelling at him.

  “Hey, be careful! There are medications in there!”

  The sergeant glanced up at her, but disregarded her shouting. As he dumped the contents onto the hood, the aluminum case rolled out of her backpack and slid off the side of the truck. It landed hard on the concrete and tumbled over until it rested against the curb.

  Mac disregarded the soldier’s order and pushed the rear door open and scrambled out of the Humvee, shouting at the sergeant, “You idiot! You stupid fool! Do you realize what you might have done?”

  Mac was yelling as she ran to retrieve the case. Two of the soldiers standing guard over them rushed to intercept her, but she got there first. She cradled the case in her arms like it was a child, not saying a word, but her eyes fired cannons at the soldiers.

  “Take it easy, everybody. Take it easy!” shouted Hunter, who also exited the back of his Humvee. “Sergeant, tell your men to stand down.”

  “I don’t take orders from you!” he yelled at Hunter. Then he motioned his men toward Hunter. “Get him back in the truck, now!”

  Hunter struggled against the soldiers as they gripped his arms and pushed him back toward the Humvee. “Sergeant, do not make a mistake that the world will regret! We need to speak to your superior officer immediately.”

  Mac was now being restrained and one of the soldiers wrestled the case away from her. He handed the case to the sergeant.

  “What’s in here?” asked the sergeant, who turned it over and over to examine the casing. “Where’s the key?”

  “We can’t open that,” replied Mac. “You see my ID. I’m with the CDC and I also work for the CIA. You’re way over your head here, Sergeant. If you open this case, people will die, including yourself. It contains samples of the plague as well as something else that I must get into the hands of my superiors at the CDC or at least notify the Secretary of Health and Human Services of its existence.”

  “You’re lying.” The sergeant began to walk away. “This is just some BS ploy to get into Star Ranch. Let me guess, you wanna nice house with a pool like the rest of them.�
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  Mac struggled to pull away and was successful for a moment. She moved closer to the Humvee until she was restrained again.

  “Sergeant, look at me! Don’t you recognize me?”

  The sergeant studied her face and shrugged. “Just another pretty girl. You look like that chick on the show my daughter used to watch on TV.”

  “Blake Lively,” Mac interrupted. “Yeah, I get that a lot. Please set the case down and listen.”

  The sergeant’s attitude softened and he complied.

  Relieved, Mac continued. “I testified in front of Congress two months ago. Do you remember the uproar?”

  One of the soldiers restraining Mac spoke up. “Sarge, I remember that. It caused the Capitol to go on lockdown. Don’t you remember? She was wearing her lab outfit and the guy seated in the hearing room started spewing blood. Turned out to be a false alarm.”

  “Yeah, I remember now,” said the sergeant. “I thought you got fired.”

  “No, Sergeant. I was reassigned to the CIA. You know how these things work. They never tell the public the truth.”

  “True dat,” mumbled the other soldier, who held her right arm.

  The sergeant wandered around the front of the truck and looked to the sky for guidance. “Here’s what I’m gonna do,” he began. “I’ll take you to the officer in charge of Star Ranch. My orders are to escort you outside the perimeter you walked through. You can make your case to him. That’s all you get from me.”

  “That’s all we ask,” replied Mac.

  Mac’s gear was loaded into the front seat of the Humvee. The driver gently placed the aluminum case in the passenger seat by itself and the sergeant rode shotgun in Hunter’s vehicle. After a short drive, they passed through a series of HESCO barriers, which blocked the divided, boulevard-style entrance into Star Ranch.