The CBRN squad leader pushes the button to call the elevator and we stand around waiting.
“What is this?” I ask Claire.
“With all kinds of satellites watching the surface, everything of any importance is kept underground.”
The elevator dings and then the doors retract and we all step inside.
There are buttons for a dozen floors. One of the MOPP suits hits a button and the doors close before the elevator descends for about ten seconds. When we step out the guards escort us into a small holding room.
“Take off your clothes,” the guard says.
“You got to be kidding me,” says Mac.
The lieutenant looks annoyed but he takes off his helmet and begins unbuttoning his jacket.
“Just do what he says, Mac,” says Sarge.
We strip down and move into another room where they put us through this whole decontamination procedure. Spraying us with some harsh chemicals and scrubbing us with brushes. The stuff burns the shit out of my wounded hand and eventually I collapse on the ground in agony.
When the water shuts off they open a door to a dressing room. A pair of nurses with a wheelchair hurry over and help me into a gown and then they wheel me out of the room. They bring me into an exam room and begin asking me about my hand while they remove the bandage.
The skin looks even more inflamed now. Puss oozes from the tissue, but when the nurses touch the wound it doesn’t seem to hurt as much now as it did when I messed with it in the bathroom.
Maybe that’s not a good thing.
Maybe my nerves are so fucked up that my body isn’t registering the pain. Or it could be the local anesthetic they injected is kicking in already.
“Shit,” I say. “I left my finger in my pants.”
The nurses look at each other and then one leaves the room. The doctor comes in and examines my hand while he asks me some more questions.
“Did you touch anyone that was infected?”
“No.”
“Did you have any contact with infected blood?”
“No,” I say. “I don’t think so, at least.”
The nurses get me on an IV and inject me with antibiotics and then I stare at the ceiling while the doctor works on my hand. The doctor tells me they won’t be able to reattach my finger. While he can treat my hand, they just aren’t equipped to handle a surgical transplant of that nature.
“That’s fine, Doc,” I say. It’s just a fucking pinky anyway.
After about an hour, the doctor finishes up and leaves the nurse to bandage me up. As soon as she is done, they move me to an observation room down the hall where Mac, Sarge and Gibby are waiting for me.
After some fist bumping with my good hand, they wait around while the doctor comes back in and tells me I was very lucky.
“A few more hours out there and you might have gone septic,” he says. He tells me I should be on bed rest a couple days and take antibiotics for the next ten days. Instead of complaining about being told to stay in bed, I nod and wait for the doctor to leave the room.
“What’s the word?” I ask the guys.
“I regret to inform you that we have not seen any aliens yet,” Mac says.
“They got this place locked down pretty tight,” says Sarge. “We’ve been in a holding room since we got here.”
“Where’s the LT?” I ask.
“He went with Miss Davies,” Sarge says. “Talk with whoever the fuck is in charge around here, I suppose.”
“The rest of us just hurry up and wait,” says Gibby. “Same old shit.”
“I just want to get the fuck out of here,” I say.
“I hear you, brother,” says Sarge. “The whole time we were out there, I didn’t think about getting back home once. Just staying alive, you know? Now I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“We’ll get you home, Sarge,” Gibby says. “That’s a promise.”
“I ain’t got nothing better to do this week,” Mac adds.
“Soon as they cut us loose, Sarge,” I tell him. “I’m with you guys.”
“Thanks,” Sarge says. “You better get some rest while you can then. Come on, guys.”
The guys take off and leave me alone again, though Mac hangs just outside the door, keeping an eye on me as he chats up a nurse in the hall. Even though I am wiped out, I still feel edgy. The images of everything that happened replay over and over again in my mind. I’d rather get back out there again than have to sit here and think about it. I close my eyes and eventually the exhaustion wins out and I fall asleep.
Thirteen
When I open my eyes, I find Claire sitting in a chair beside the bed. Her eyes are closed and she snores slightly. My aching hand causes me to wince in pain and I raise it up and inspect the bandages and my lack of fingers. It takes a moment for me to recall everything that happened.
“Fuck,” I whisper.
My stomach growls. It’s been way too long since I had something to eat. Being out there, it was the last thing on my mind, but now I am hungry as hell.
Eventually, I start getting impatient so I sit up in the bed. I look around for something to wear besides the hospital gown, but I don’t see anything. I don’t feel like waiting around for help, so I start unhooking the monitors.
“Where you running off to?” Claire says.
“I’m hungry,” I tell her. “Can’t stand to just sit around in here either.”
“You should take it easy,” she tells me.
“I’m fine,” I insist. “Can you tell me where the rest of the guys are?”
“They’re asleep,” she says. “Just relax.”
Reluctantly, I settle back into the bed. The nurse comes rushing in the room and when she sees I’m fine and just removed the monitors she folds her arms across her chest and scowls at me.
“Mr. Graves, you need to stay in your bed,” she says.
“I’m fine,” I tell her. “Really. I don’t want to be hooked up to all this shit.”
“But—” she complains.
“Please, can I just get something to eat?” I beg the nurse. “I’m starving.”
The nurse realizes she isn’t going to get me to cooperate so she leaves the room.
“What time is it?” I ask Claire.
She looks at the watch on her wrist.
“Close to three in the morning,” she tells me. “The guys just went to bed a couple hours ago. They didn’t want you to wake up to an empty room. I had to promise them I’d stay with you to get them to get some rest. It will be a few hours before they start getting ready to go.”
“Go where?” I ask. My guess would be to head home with Sarge and help him find his family.
“New Mexico,” she tells me.
“What?” I ask her.
The nurse returns to the room with some food and places it down on the tray table and swivels it around so I can reach it from the bed. Soup, crackers, applesauce and a banana. None of it looks particularly appetizing, but I’m so hungry that I dive in. I even forget what Claire had said until she starts speaking again.
“There is this CIA agent here,” Claire explains. “Some guy named Logan. He is in contact with the Pentagon.”
“What the fuck does that have to do with us?” I say as I peel back the skin of a banana.
“Apparently that doctor I told you about... Dr. Schoenheim...” she says.
With my mouth full, I nod to let her know I remember.
“Well, everyone thought that he died, but apparently he is still alive,” she explains.
“He’s going against the trend then,” I say.
She looks at me and furrows her brow. Then she gets my point and presses her lips together.
“Very funny,” she says. “I mean it. Two years ago was his funeral, but apparently he’s been off the grid this whole time.”
“Why?” I ask her.
“I don’t know,” she says. “I guess I will find out soon enough. We are supposed to meet them at a secure facility in New Me
xico.”
“Why don’t they just fly him out here?” I ask her.
“This facility is primarily for testing experimental aircraft. It isn’t equipped for that kind of research,” she says. “Los Alamos has some of the most brilliant scientists and advanced technology of any research facility in the country.”
I groan as I push the tray of food out of my way and begin to get up off the bed.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“Getting ready to go,” I tell her.
“What?” she says. “Like that? You can’t.”
“I’m not going to sit here while my team goes off on some suicide mission to take you halfway across the country.”
“Chase,” she protests.
“Not happening,” I say as I walk out into the hallway and begin looking around for some clothes to wear. A draft on my backside reminds me that my ass is literally hanging out in the breeze, but I’m determined not to be left sitting around in a hospital bed while the other men in my platoon risk their lives.
“Chase!” Claire calls after me. “Where are you going?”
A nurse comes out from behind the desk and gets in front of me.
“Where are my clothes?” I ask her.
“Mr. Graves,” she says. “You should—”
“I just want my damn clothes!” I demand.
“I will get them for you,” the nurse relents. “Please, just return to your room.”
A couple of military police appear at the end of the hall. I give them a hard look as I turn around and head back to my room. Claire settles back in the chair once I resume eating my food.
“So what did you used to do here?” I ask her. “Or you probably can’t talk about that.”
She smiles to let me know I’m right.
“I see how it is,” I say as I stuff a cracker in my mouth.
“I don’t want to get locked in prison for the rest of my life,” she says.
“In case you don’t remember, it seems like nobody is locked in prison anymore.”
“You have a point there,” she says.
The nurse returns and rolls a cart with my fatigues and gear to the side of the bed.
“Sorry,” I say as she turns to leave. “I didn’t mean to be a pain in the ass.”
“I understand,” the nurse smiles. “Just let me know if you need anything else, darling.”
She leaves and I return to spooning cold chicken broth into my mouth.
“Do you know what DNA printing is?” Claire asks me.
I look up at her confused.
“Synthetic biology?” she asks. “The Human Genome Project?”
I shake my head.
“You’re gonna have to break it down Barney style,” I tell her.
“So you know we’re all composed of DNA strands that determine our traits,” she starts.
I nod.
“Well, we’ve learned to map that DNA,” she says. “We know more about which codified components affect traits, and we’ve even figured out how to insert artificial compounds into the DNA strands to change traits more drastically. I guess you can say my job here was to determine how we can modify human DNA to adapt it to a different environment.”
“Doesn’t sound so top secret,” I say.
“Well it is when you’re trying to bio-engineer humans that can survive on Mars.”
“What?” I ask her.
“That was what I worked on here,” she repeats.
“You were trying to make a Martian?”
She nods and holds a finger up to her lips.
“That’s about the most fucked up thing I’ve ever heard,” I tell her.
“You wanted to know,” Claire says and sits back in her seat with a smile on her face.
“Why would anyone want to do that?” I ask her.
“You don’t honestly think this planet can sustain us much longer?” she asks. “The population is exploding, we’re draining our resources, not to mention the destruction and waste. Forget the zombies, another twenty years and we’d have wiped ourselves out.”
I get up off the bed and pick up my boxers and pull them up under the hospital gown. Then I take the gown off and pick up my pants. I notice Claire watching me and she turns her eyes up to the ceiling.
“So did it work?” I ask her as I pick up my undershirt. “Did you ever make a Martian?”
“It would have worked,” she says. “Given more time. Maybe another five years. Now, I will probably just have to wonder what might have been possible if it weren’t for all this.”
“As long as you’re still alive it’s possible, though,” I tell her. “You can help figure out how to stop this thing and then you can get back to work.”
“It might not even be necessary now,” Claire says. “This catastrophe will probably send us back to the Dark Ages. That is if we manage to survive at all. Either way, Earth will be better off without so many of us here to destroy it.”
“I don’t plan on dying anytime soon,” I tell her. “Don’t worry. We’ll get you to Los Alamos.”
Fourteen
As soon as everyone is awake, we gear up and prepare to move out.
“So what’s the game plan?” Sarge asks the lieutenant.
“We’re going to rendezvous with a team of Navy Seals that is transporting the doctor to Holloman Air Force Base,” says Will. “Then we will proceed up to Los Alamos, secure the facility and provide security until additional support arrives.”
“You make it sound so easy,” says Mac.
“It will be,” Sarge says. “As long as we don’t all die.
“The word is Holloman is a hell of a stronghold,” says Will.
“The population is sparse in that area,” I say. “West of it is nothing but miles and miles of harsh desert. My dad was stationed there for a couple years when I was a kid.”
“Some of the remnants of the Army personnel from Fort Bliss made it up to Holloman and are keeping the local population of the recently departed off the Chair Force,” says Will.
The lieutenant glances at all of us.
“I know you guys have already been through hell,” the lieutenant says. “I got family back home, too, and I don’t know if they’re okay. But I believe that the best thing we can do for all of them right now is help protect Miss Davies and this doctor so they can figure out a way to stop this thing. We are going to need their help to get it done.”
The thought of staying behind never even crossed my mind, and I’m sure that no one else in the room had considered it either. We all want to see it through now.
“Let’s get to work then, gentleman,” says Will.
We pick up our gear and head out. Down the hall a guy dressed in slacks and a button-down shirt waits for us. He puts on a pair of sunglasses, checks his watch and then hits the button for the elevator.
“Who’s this guy?” I ask Mac.
“Logan,” says Mac.
“Something wrong?” asks our platoon commander.
“No, not at all,” says Logan. “I’ll be coming along for the ride.”
“I appreciate the offer, but we can handle it, agent,” Will says.
“I’m sure you can,” he says. “However, some of the folks back in Washington felt this should be a joint operation.”
Will hesitates for a long moment.
“Is that going to be a problem, Lieutenant?” Logan asks.
“No,” Will says. “No problem. Good to have you aboard.”
“Great,” says Logan. He unbuttons his cuffs and folds his sleeves up around his forearms. “Let’s rock and roll then.”
The elevator dings and we get inside and ride up to the surface. Across the dried up bed of Lake Groom, the sun hangs just above the mountaintops. On the runway sits a CV-22 Osprey. The helicopter crew scrambles around as they prep for take off.
The flight takes nearly two hours in the blazing heat. I try to get some shuteye while we’re in the air, but my hand is still in a lot of pain and the downtime
leaves too much opportunity for my mind to wander and to dwell. The last thing I want do right now is to think, but sometimes you can’t bury it down.
It’s a relief to get back on the ground so I can just focus on the mission again. We get off the Osprey and are greeted by an Air Force captain with Walker etched on his nameplate. He waves us over and leads us to a hangar a couple hundred yards away. Walker shakes hands with Logan and the lieutenant. He seems a little paranoid and relieved to see us.
“What’s the situation here, Captain?” asks Logan.
“A lot better than other places,” says the Captain. “From what I hear anyway. We have continual friction from the small town of Alamogordo to the east. We lost most of our infantry in the initial wave, but Army forces have been able to keep the dead off of us. For now, anyway.”
“This is Miss Davies,” Logan says and introduces the scientist.
Walker smiles and shakes her hand.
“Our first priority is to provide her security,” says Logan. “We go wherever she goes.”
“Once the team from Chicago arrives we will step off to Los Alamos,” adds Will. “In the meantime, if there is anything my men can do to help around here, just let us know.”
“Actually there is something,” Walker says. “We’ve got a bit of a situation brewing around here.”
“Anything I need to be worried about?” asks Logan.
“No,” Walker shakes his head. “Tensions have just been a little high since some of the guys from Fort Bliss arrived. Apparently they have taken it upon themselves to restructure the chain of command. The colonel is having a hard time keeping some of them in check. If you can have a word with the man in charge, Private Jenson, maybe try to bridge the divide here?”
Instead of answering, Logan looks at our platoon commander. Will nods and tells the captain that he will see what he can do.
“I appreciate it, Lieutenant,” says Walker. “We have some room at the Holloman Inn for Miss Davies and your men if you need it.”
“Thank you, Captain,” Logan says, looking around the hangar. “We shouldn’t be here very long.”
“There’s vehicles out front to bring you over when you’re ready. Welcome to Holloman,” Walker says to all of us. “Lieutenant,” he jerks his head for Will to follow him back out the bay door.
ROTD (Book 3): Rage of the Dead Page 9