by Lund, Dave
SSC
Chivo briefed President Lampton on Steve Dorsey’s situation and how Clint had been killed. She approved and appreciated the dangerous work that Chivo accomplished. Andrew had already eaten and taken off pointed west. He missed Oreo dearly and couldn’t wait to be reunited with his best friend.
“Madam President, I should warn you that you probably don’t want to be involved with the interrogation. How far it goes, how intense things get, depend solely on this guy’s responses and willingness to answer questions. Since you’ve already tried and he won’t chat, I’m starting with some tactics to startle him into the reality of his situation.”
“I appreciate that, Chivo. I’ll take your word and advice on the matter under advisement. Is there anything I could do to help your process?”
“Yes, ma’am. I need to setup some things in the tunnel. I’m going to need help controlling the lighting while I get him to the tunnel for our sessions, and I need to hit the supply room for a handful of things that will be useful.”
“Anything else?”
“I’ll need a chair, some buckets, and a water hose.”
Amanda looked at Chivo with a raised eyebrow, but his facial expression hadn’t changed. He was well-trained and well-experienced in advanced interrogation techniques, and when he and his team had fought their way back to the border and into El Paso, Chivo would have never guessed he would be using that training and experience so often in such a dead world.
People are people regardless of the collapse of society and the dawn of the apocalypse.
The thought repeated in his mind, becoming truer with each playing.
Pecos, Texas
The big MRAP rumbled across the broken and failing concrete of the large ramp. Only the remnants of a large hangar remained from what was once a large Army airbase. Erin had the strange feeling of being somewhere so desolate that she was sure that someone was watching them. Jason drove toward the small concrete structure that was described in the notes Chivo had given them and found the access keypad. After the access code was entered, the whole building rose from the ground, revealing a lit concrete ramp that was surprisingly large, even large enough to fit their big armored truck in. The drive underground was reminiscent of something from the twilight zone. Neither Jason nor Erin had ever suspected such a place existed, but neither of them believed anything about Area 51 before going there either.
The entry to the ramp closed behind them, slowly lowering, the bright sunlight edging away to the shadows as it did. Lights overhead gave a warm glow much like a gymnasium, but it didn’t chase away all the shadows around the surprising number of military vehicles and equipment already visible in the entryway.
“I can’t even be surprised anymore. Seriously, what else is out there or underground or whatever the fuck. How many more are there of these sorts of things?”
Erin shrugged, wary that they might find something unexpected. Jason drove to the end of the parking area and parked next to an electric cart that reminded Erin of what they used at football games to cart off injured players.
“Think it still works?” Jason asked as he peered into the dark storeroom ahead that seemed to go on with no end. Jason turned their big truck around to be ready for a hasty exit if need be and pushed the button to shut off the ignition. Once the MRAPs diesel motor shut off, the silence of the underground supply cache seemed to echo with the ghost of noise. It was eerie. They climbed down from the cab and slowly inspected the space around them, weapons in hand, ready to fight, but no fight came. Next to the nearest electric cart were debris and some trash that was left behind by whoever had come before them.
“Who do you think has been here?”
Erin shrugged again. “I think Chivo had, but I don’t know beyond that. Surely he’s not the only person who knows about this place.”
“He might be the only person still alive that knows.”
Erin nodded and sat down in the passenger’s seat of the cart; he had a good point. “Well, handsome, take your lady on a tour of her temporary new home.”
CHAPTER 16
April 17, Year 1
Nevada
“Keep overwatch. I’ll take a fire team down the hill to investigate and look for any intel. If we’re clear, then we can make a path for our progress and move on.”
“Rah, Chief,” was Gonzo’s not-quite-sarcastic reply. Aymond let it go, since it was only Gonzo being a smart ass and being a sometimes smart ass was basically a fundamental right for an NCO.
Gonzo shook it out and drank some water while snacking on his MRE crackers. Luck had smiled on the Aymond’s favorite smartass and Gonzo had a huge blob of jalapeño cheese spread on his cracker. They were nearly inedible without it. It was an odd breakfast in normal society, but normal society didn’t exist any longer, and Gonzo was in full-on, deployed-to-a-war zone mode, which is basically what they were. There would be no replacements, no help, and no rotation home next year. No, they either won or they died, and death, no longer being the escape from life, the end, held no appeal or promise of peace.
Twilight broke, the eastern horizon just beginning to glow a little brighter than the deeply dark night sky. These were the stars of their warrior ancestors, long forgotten by modern man, blotted out of the sky by the irritating glow of electric light’s progress, but that was gone, a thing of the past and the night sky reigned supreme once again. It was a sky that Aymond associated with a war-zone deployment in a country very far away from North America.
Aymond, Happy, and Jones set off down the hill, taking a route that flanked the decimated PLA force and vehicles. The radar truck appeared to still be functioning, even after sitting idle all night long. The occasional Zed that approached fell silently to the ground as it shambled in front of the transmitter. It was a beautiful sight.
Thirty minutes later, Gonzo heard his earpiece for his radio squawk from Aymond depressing the push to talk button.
Click.
Nothing was said, just the squawking hiss of an empty transmission. Gonzo gave the scene one more really good scan for threats through his rifle’s powerful optic and replied by pressing his radio push to talk button twice.
Click. Click.
There was no response from Aymond, but a few moments later, Gonzo could see Aymond appear from a shadow as if he formed from the melted dark form. Even if Gonzo was next to his friend and leader, he was confident that he wouldn’t have heard a single sound coming from Aymond’s footsteps or movement. The man was a complete professional and very good at his job.
Quickly, smooth and silent, Aymond and his fire team cleared the area of any threats. They found none and gave another click on the radio to signal the all clear. Gonzo gave two clicks in acknowledgment and gathered the rest of their band of merry miscreants to join the search down on the highway. A few minutes later, the M-ATV and the two civilian vehicles sat idling on the highway. The civilians dragged bodies from the roadway, clearing a narrow path of travel. The Marines pulled documents and wallets out of the pockets of all the uniformed soldiers. The interior of the APCs gave more intel to be sifted through. It would take some time to go through it all and decide what was valid, what was worthwhile, and what was nothing. Part of the difficulty is that none of them could read Mandarin. There wasn’t anyone at Groom Lake that could, but that didn’t mean that they wouldn’t meet a new survivor who could. It was worth it, to Aymond at least, to keep all that appeared to be worth their effort just in case they did meet someone who could translate for them.
Really, Aymond was hoping for maps, and they found a few, but until they had a chance to look at them, he really had no idea what they were a map to. Only one of the APCs started and ran, which at least gave them the chance to use it to push the disabled APCs out of the way for their own vehicles. The remaining undamaged radar truck was low on diesel, which was no big deal after one of the civilians produced a sec
tion of garden hose he used to siphon fuel from one of the Chinese APCs. They took the opportunity to top off the M-ATV and the civilian vehicles as well. The other had a gasoline motor, so they would need to scavenge on the highway for that. That vehicle wasn’t running too well, seeming to misfire and run rough. Jones said that unleaded gasoline was getting to the age now that it would begin to break down and go bad, especially if it had ethanol in it, which Aymond assumed most every vehicle did. Aymond made a mental note to stick to diesel vehicles from this point forward. If the gasser failed on this trip, they could come back for the remaining APC and bring that back to Groom Lake with them.
After a little trial and error, the transmitter for the radar truck was turned off and lowered. It took a position in their convoy behind the M-ATV so it might be protected in case of attack. Aymond wasn’t as worried about deploying it while they drove as much as protecting it so they would have it to use later at Nellis. He assumed that the Zeds might be less than inviting just outside of Las Vegas; the swarms were bad when they came through the area on the way to Groom Lake and Aymond had to assume that they could be even worse now. So the addition of a new radar truck that they will be able to bring back to Groom Lake was incredible. Even more so because now they would be able to set a permuted and safe zone around the hangars and equipment stores while they gathered all they needed to re-arm the Warthogs.
Nothing they did seemed to be a trivial undertaking, everything seeming to be a monumental task, but with everything Aymond knew, he would have to put his head down and work their plan. If that plan failed, then they would move on to the next plan. There was no quitting; there was no possibility of failure.
Soon, the convoy plus the addition of the new-to-them radar truck was on the road and pointed toward Las Vegas. They didn’t have any communication with Groom Lake because they were too far away and there were mountains in the way of the normal VHF/UHF radios, the SATCOMs were still assumed to be non-functional, and no one believed that there was any reason that the PLA would have stopped jamming the transmissions. Even Lincoln had the telegraph. Operating completely disconnected from all other forces was different than the typical mission radio silence that they used while deployed. No, this was more ominous, but thankfully their comm gear still worked between them and the team could split apart and stay in contact.
SSC
Muffled screams echoed down the tunnel into the darkness. Overhead, a single light was illuminated, flickering against the cold, empty tunnel walls. The vehicles parked in this section of tunnel had been moved further down toward the exit, near Amanda’s pull-up bar and re-entry into the main facility, but the prisoner wouldn’t know that. To him, they might as well be thousands of miles away, tens of hundreds of feet underground or on the space station. The man’s entire world and future depended on his responsiveness and answers. Amanda’s orders were simple. War-time powers gave her a large brush to paint policy with, a complete lack of oversight; no congress, no courts, gave her unlimited ability to do what she thought was best. Chivo thought she was being too soft still, but it was probably best that the sitting president who had practically unlimited power would have so much compassion, compassion even for someone who had tried to kill her.
“Tell me your name.”
Chivo’s voice was even, no emotion bleeding through the words, standing in contrast to the man’s choked yelling. The metal chair from the mess hall was tilted back and braced against a large spare tire for one the MRAPs. The man was tied and duct taped to the chair. He writhed against the bindings and couldn’t get free, couldn’t breathe. Chivo pulled his head back with a pillowcase cut open. A garden hose ran to a spigot on the wall, two buckets of water sitting on the floor near them. Chivo counted silently to himself as he held the pillowcase tight, water from the hose pouring over the man’s face.
This session could go on for a while, and if the man didn’t answer the simple question of what his name was soon, then Chivo would turn out the light, take off the blindfold, and leave the man to shiver, dripping wet in the frigid subterranean tunnel for five minutes. Five minutes of uncontrollable shivering in complete darkness, bound to a chair, before they would start again. Chivo knew a few things to be true at this point. One, this man had some training; so far, he had resisted enhanced interrogation techniques that broke down men twice as strong as him. Two, there was no way the man found Amanda and tried to kill her by accident. And three, Chivo would kill him soon no matter what the man told him.
North of Hillsboro, Texas
“Fuck,” Ken whispered to himself, his breath hanging in the air, steam rising off his bare head in the cool April morning. Things had not gone to plan, nothing at all had gone to plan. All of his hunting buddies group’s prepping, all of their confidence in their survival, and here he was, stranded on the roof of a single-wide manufactured home that appeared to look better than it should due to the ruin around it.
Zeds swarmed around him and he lay still on his back, staring up at the crisp cold blue sky. His truck was a few hundred yards away still on the road. Ken had sprinted to safety for his life after he hit one of the damned things trying to swerve around other shambling dead bodies. Ken was confident he was fucked, he just wasn’t sure how fucked or if he would be able to get off the trailer house before he died from exposure.
Ken’s mentally reviewed his current inventory. One pistol, one spare mag, one canteen of water, a rifle, and a bandolier with loaded spare clips for the M1.Food I can do without for a while…
His thoughts drifted when he thought about the water. With the cooler temperatures, he expected at the hottest part of the day he would be better than if it was August, but water was a problem. Ken slowly rolled to his stomach, slowly and quietly lifting his head to peek over the edge of the flat roof. Fuck.
The swarm had mostly lost interested in the mobile home and where he was, but there were still hundreds or thousands of Zeds on the road, churning and writhing like maggots on rotted meat. It smelled about the same too. Ken knew that his truck was finished and that he either had to find a new ride or he would be on the shoe-powered express. He rolled back over and gazed at the clear sun-filled sky and sighed. All he could do is wait and hope he had a chance to walk out of the situation. Ken knew his odds were slim, razor-thin slim, but he also knew he wouldn’t quit.
Fucking Charlie couldn’t kill me, and the fucking Zeds don’t stand a chance. I will not quit; I will win.
Comanche, Texas
That day felt like a lifetime ago. So much had happened since he flanked the ambush in Comanche while trying to get the four of them to Big Bend. Bexar never thought he would be back. Jessie and the FJ were hidden, along with her bad attitude. Bexar’s wife was not happy that he left her to recon the town before they tried to drive through, but even though her ankle was getting better with each day, Jessie still couldn’t really walk on it well and she sure as hell couldn’t run. So her task for the day was to guard their ride and supplies. Unlike last time, they had radios. The radios were much more involved than Bexar knew what to do with, but the manuals with the radios helped him at least get them to talk to each other. All the other features were completely lost on them, but he didn’t care.
If Bexar got into trouble, Jessie was going to swoop in and save him if she could drive there. If things went really badly, Bexar hoped that Jessie would continue on and go straight to the SSC. Amanda would help her; it was the best chance she had to have a baby. Bexar couldn’t imagine Jessie trying to have their baby by herself in some abandoned home or in a tent or anywhere really. The possibility of her and the baby both being killed in childbirth was very real.
Click.
Bexar sighed. Jessie was worried.
Click. Click.
So far, there was no movement in the town at all that he could see. Slowly, using yards, buildings, and houses, Bexar made his way far enough into town to see the original roadblock and ambush point
via his binoculars.
Nothing…it all sits as I remember it.
Bexar was on a roof, lying motionless, quietly peering through the binoculars and looking for any signs of danger, living or dead. There was nothing. Eerily still, not even the wind seemed to be blowing. After what seemed like the whole day, what was really an hour by his new watch, Bexar clicked the push to talk on his radio.
“All clear. Come forward.” Bexar gave a brief description of the building he was on. A few minutes later, the FJ slowly drove into view, the sound of the running motor seeming horrendously loud in the stillness. Bexar climbed down and fell the last few feet to the ground onto the balls of his feet and climbed into the passenger seat of the FJ.
“Want to drive straight through?”
Bexar nodded in response, his eyes scanning the road ahead and around them for any new threats, his rifle ready.
“Where are the Zeds?”
“No fucking clue, babe. This place is a ghost town, literally. It’s really spooking me out.” Soon, they drove around the old roadblock and continued on the highway toward their destination and hopefully their last move for a while.
Pecos, Texas
A pile of trash and boxes made it obvious that someone had been here, perhaps someone besides Chivo and his crew. Erin had no way to tell; it wasn’t like a secret underground inland supply cache for resupply in troops during an invasion and war in North America had a registrar’s book.
That’s too bad. I would totally sign it. I might not even use a made-up name…no, I would definitely use a made-up name.
“Mind if we drive around and explore before we try to do anything real or try to resupply?”
“Sounds great, baby.” Erin held Jason’s hand as the electric cart whirred down the deceptively long and not-very-well-lit canyons of shelves full of crates and boxes. Some of the crates and cases were obvious, like the seemingly thousands of cans of ammo. They would be able to leave with as much ammo as they wanted and could load into the MRAP, which almost made Erin smile…almost.