Fall of Man | Book 3 | Firebase:

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Fall of Man | Book 3 | Firebase: Page 14

by Sisavath, Sam


  Emily was, meanwhile, reloading her Glock from Stoner’s ammo bags. The ex-soldier had carried them inside with the others—enough to arm everyone in The Welcome Room, including Ashley. Not that they gave the kid any of the weapons. Even Dante didn’t get one, and hadn’t asked for one. Which was a good thing, because, as Cole would say if he were here, the only thing more dangerous than the enemy was a friendly with a gun who wasn’t trained to use it. They were just liable to shoot you by accident as they were to help out.

  There was also a half-full pouch of the gas canisters that Stoner had hit her and the others with that Emily had taken some interest in. She made a mental note of its location, just in case.

  She finished reloading the magazine and put the Glock away. “My husband is O negative, too. You starting to see the pattern here?”

  Stoner nodded. Maybe even a little reluctantly. “Way too much coincidence.”

  “Right. And I don’t believe in coincidences.” She picked up one of the extra M4s that Stoner’s group had brought with them and slung it. “Whatever happened out there, it has everything to do with blood. Literally, in this case.”

  “Some kind of virus?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know.”

  “What else do you know?”

  “So you believe me?”

  Stoner shrugged. “It’s the best explanation I’ve heard so far.”

  “What else did you hear?”

  “Nothing. Me and the boys were too busy staying alive on our way here to go hunting wild geese.”

  “How did you know about LARS?”

  “You don’t think the DOD knows when an ex-Army project goes private? I saw plans and pictures of this place years ago when they first started construction on it. We’ve been keeping tabs on it ever since.”

  Emily nodded. That made perfect sense. The Department of Defense always kept an eye on their former projects just in case the brains behind them decided another government might be more inclined to fund their defunded work. She wouldn’t have been surprised if Anton had to get permission to go private, which would entail taking all the blueprints with him. Originally government-sponsored blueprints.

  She walked over to the nearest window and looked out at the others. Stoner’s men—the ones inside the warehouse—had warmed up to her group. She had a feeling that the fact they were all men, and there were two pretty single girls in Emily’s group, had a little something to do with that.

  She glanced back at Stoner, peering down at one of the LARS brochures that Dante had found in the other office, as if he could discover the hidden doorway that may or may not exist from one of its pages.

  “The man I shot. Is he dead?” Emily asked.

  Stoner glanced up at her. “What?”

  “The man I shot. The one that assaulted the door.”

  The ex-soldier shook his head. “That was Hawkeye.” He jerked a thumb toward the ceiling. “He’s up there with Green Arrow.”

  “So he’s not dead?”

  “The last time I checked.”

  “I shot him.”

  “It’s a good thing he was wearing a MOLLE plate carrier. We thought he was crazy to be carrying it around in the heat. Turns out, not so much. Nice shot, by the way.”

  “No wonder you’re in such an agreeable mood.”

  “How’s that?”

  “I didn’t kill one of your men. If I had…”

  “You thought I’d be pissed off?”

  “Wouldn’t you?”

  Stoner shrugged. “First time I met any of these guys was five days ago, when all of this started.”

  “Is that why none of you are wearing name tags?”

  “That’s one reason.”

  “What are the other ones?”

  “As far as we know, the U.S. government is gone. No chain of command, no official rank, no nothing. So who cares who we were or what we did before all of this?”

  Emily had to admit, he made a good point. The world had changed irrevocably five days ago. She didn’t know just how much yet, but nothing would ever be same again.

  “What did you hit us with earlier?” she asked him.

  “The gas?” Stoner said.

  “Yes.”

  “Something the boys in the Army lab cooked up. Name’s as long as your arm, but I never took the time to memorize it. Supposed to knock someone out without leaving any lasting harmful side effects.”

  “Does it work?”

  He grinned. “You tell me.”

  “I think it works. I had the craziest headache when I first woke up, but…” She touched her temple. “It seems to be gone now. And I don’t notice any lingering effects.”

  “So I guess the lab boys did a good job after all. It was still experimental the last time I saw the reports. We never really got a chance to put it to work in the field besides some controlled demos.”

  “What were you, a colonel?”

  “Why? You think I look like an officer?”

  “I know you were an officer. I just don’t know your rank.”

  “What makes you think so?”

  “Officers know about upcoming experimental Army projects. Your ordinary soldier wouldn’t have a clue until they showed it to him.”

  Stoner nodded. “You’re right. I was an officer.” He straightened up and walked over to stand next to her. “Not that it matters anymore.”

  “It matters some. Those men out there still consider you their commanding officer.”

  “Out of habit, I’m sure.”

  They looked out at the others, still searching for the elusive door. There was the occasional pop of a rifle shot from above them, but they were far and few. Emily had a feeling Hawkeye and his fellow superhero were only trying to let the crazies know they could still see them, and an attack would get them killed.

  “What if it doesn’t exist?” Stoner finally asked.

  “What if what doesn’t exist?”

  “This bigger door down to the facility.”

  “It exists.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I just know,” she said, but thought, God, I hope it exists. She added out loud, “We just have to find it.”

  “You want to get to your husband,” he said, and she caught him sneaking a glance down at the radio on her hip.

  “Yes,” Emily said.

  “What if he’s already dead?”

  Emily shot him a quick, hard look.

  Stoner shrugged. “Think about it. He went down, what, hours ago? And he hasn’t come back up. Maybe he’s already dead. Met some crazies down there.”

  “He’s not.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “You hope. It’s not the same as knowing.”

  “You haven’t met Cole.”

  Stoner squinted at her. “He that good?”

  “He’s better.”

  “And of course, you’re not biased at all.”

  “Of course.”

  She could tell Stoner wasn’t convinced. Not that she gave a damn. He wanted to get down there to enjoy the promised safety of LARS just as much as she did, and he would do whatever it took to achieve that. For now, they both had the same goal.

  For now.

  “You should consider the possibility that he’s not coming back up,” Stoner said.

  “I don’t have to do a goddamn thing,” Emily said.

  Stoner grunted, and she guessed he had a clever little comeback ready for her. Except he didn’t get the chance to use it, because the radio on his hip squawked and they heard Hawkeye’s voice, shouting, “Shit, Green Arrow’s down! Green Arrow’s down!”

  Or, at least, Emily guessed the man was going to shout “Green Arrow’s down” for the second time, but she could only hear the second mention of “Green Arrow” before the radio went quiet.

  Stoner didn’t wait to find out what had happened. He was already bursting through the office door and running toward Minor, the guy who had been fiddling with the ele
vator earlier. Late thirties and the oldest one in Stoner’s group after Stoner himself.

  “Minor!” Stoner shouted.

  Minor, still parked at the elevator with Dante, glanced over.

  “Outside with me now!” Stoner shouted. Then, taking off running, the man looked over at the two ex-soldiers guarding the semi across the building, “Hold the line!”

  The two men nodded back.

  Emily chased after Stoner, and they ran past Minor and Dante, making a beeline for the side door that Hawkeye had forced in earlier. Minor appeared behind her, his heavy footsteps like explosions on her heels.

  Emily turned until she was backpedaling and locked eyes with Dante, still at the elevator. Minor’s form blurred past her, but she ignored him and focused on the teenager. “Stay inside! Understand? Keep everyone inside!”

  Dante nodded back and turned around in his wheelchair.

  Bolton and Greg were already running across the building to intercept her. They had been busy on the other side with Cameron but had easily heard the commotion.

  Emily didn’t wait for them to catch up. She spun back around and ran after Stoner and Minor. She unslung the M4 as she did so, slowing down just enough to pull back the charging handle and slipping it off safe.

  As she ran, Emily couldn’t help but notice that they couldn’t hear any gunfire from above them. Considering what Hawkeye had screamed through the radio, there was a good chance that meant the two snipers had been caught by surprise. And if Green Arrow was down and Hawkeye hadn’t gotten a shot off in the aftermath…

  It wasn’t good.

  It wasn’t good at all.

  Stoner had probably deduced the same thing, because he was running like a madman toward the side door, with Minor close behind him.

  After Hawkeye bashed his way in with the police ram, the ex-soldiers had barricaded it back up with a pair of metal shelves and a desk from the bigger of the two offices. It wasn’t nearly strong enough to keep anyone in for any length of time, but it was more than enough to give them early warning should a crazy try to enter.

  Stoner and Minor were grabbing pieces of the office furniture and tossing them aside now, working with the kind of urgency that told her they were well-aware of the shit that was going down above them.

  Pop-pop-pop! from behind her.

  Emily skidded to a stop and whirled around, looking toward the source of the gunfire.

  The front doors.

  Specifically, the downed hangar door with the semi parked above it. Stoner’s other two guys, Lewis and Pecks, were shooting at a crazy as he burst through the opening. Bullets pinged! off the side of the truck as the man bobbed and weaved, getting almost inside before Pecks finally landed a shot to one of his legs.

  The crazy stumbled and fell, and was trying to get up when Lewis ran up to him and, almost at point-blank range, shot him in the head. Even from across the warehouse, Emily could see blood and brains splattering as the bullet exited the man’s chin and pekked! into the concrete floor.

  But Lewis had made a mistake. He’d gotten too close to finish the infected man off. Before, he’d kept a good distance from the opening—twenty or so yards. It was one reason why both he and Pecks had been having so difficult a time hitting the moving crazy.

  Now, Lewis was turning around when a figure in black jogging pants and a T-shirt covered in dust and red splashes appeared behind him. The man made a beeline for Lewis.

  “Behind you!” Pecks shouted.

  Lewis turned. He got off a shot, striking the crazy in the side of the face. It probably hurt, but it didn’t stop him.

  Pecks was running toward the other man when Lewis went down screaming. Emily was too far away to see what the crazy had used to fall Lewis. She couldn’t even see the man’s eyes from this distance, but there was no mistaking the ferocity and speed with which he was moving and attacking. He was infected.

  “Jesus Christ,” a voice said. Minor, appearing behind her all of a sudden. He had unslung his rifle and was about to take off to help Pecks and Lewis.

  “Get back here!” Stoner shouted.

  Minor stopped and looked back at the former officer, and was opening his mouth to ask (Emily guessed), What about Lewis and Pecks? when the door in front of Stoner burst open, knocking the last shelf that had been pressed against it to the side.

  A large man wearing lime-green overalls covered in blood and dust and sticky-colored liquid that Emily couldn’t identify roared inside. He was swinging a sledgehammer as he charged for Stoner.

  “Watch out!” Emily shouted.

  Too late. Stoner turned just as the crazy struck him in the chest. Emily physically flinched with her entire body at the loud, echoing thwack! of the hammer landing. Stoner flew backward like a rag doll.

  Emily took aim and pulled the trigger, even as The Welcome Room erupted into a cacophony of gunfire, screams…

  …and more screams.

  Chapter 17. Cole

  Seven that Sal knew of.

  Seven.

  It wasn’t too big of a number. He’d had to contend with worse. Hell, not more than five days ago, he was essentially fighting off an entire city of crazies.

  So compared to that, seven was a godsend.

  At least, that’s what he told himself.

  “One!” the Voice shouted when the Remington boomed! and a hole the size of Cole’s fist appeared in the chest of a woman in gray LARS overalls. She had turned the corner, rushing at him with a bloody hammer, drops of red flitting from her eyes. She didn’t get more than two feet from the time he spotted her to when he put her down.

  “Six to go,” the Voice said.

  That Sal knows of.

  “Right. I thought that was implied.”

  One down and six to go…that Sal knew of. The phrase kept repeating itself inside his head.

  Six to go…that Sal knew of.

  There was also something else that continued to nag at the back of Cole’s head: Where is Anton?

  “I don’t know, he vanished,” Sal had said when he asked her before they left the control room.

  “How did he vanish, exactly?” Cole had asked.

  “The last time I saw him was three days ago, two days after everything went down. He was busy chopping up one of the civvy investors with a meat cleaver. Don’t ask me where he got the cleaver.”

  “And then?”

  “And then nothing. He vanished.” She’d snapped her fingers.

  “Just like that?”

  “Well, I don’t mean he poofed and disappeared into smoke or anything.” She had paused then.

  “What?” Cole prompted.

  “He looked up at the camera and smiled.”

  “The camera?”

  “Anton knows where all the cameras are. He’s one of the few people that does.”

  “Including you.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Who else knows?”

  “Brad and Jennifer. They’re also in on the gig.”

  “And what happened to them?” Cole asked, thinking about the paint he’d seen splashed over where the cameras in the hallway were, and wondered how many other “blind spots” Sal couldn’t see were similarly “blacked out.”

  “Dead,” Sal had said.

  “Both of them?”

  “Yup.”

  “How certain are you?”

  “I saw them both go down myself. Brad turned, but Jennifer didn’t. One of the mechanics killed her. You might have seen her; she was one of the bodies just outside the entry hallway.”

  He’d probably had, but Cole couldn’t confirm or deny, not having known what Jennifer looked like then and still didn’t, now.

  “So Anton’s running around out there somewhere,” he’d said.

  “It’s possible. Like I said, I haven’t seen hide nor hair of him since that moment. And every day I check the body count on the cameras. He’s not among them.”

  Anton.

  Where the hell was Anton?

  Was he de
ad somewhere, in one of Sal’s blind spots? It was very much possible. After all, someone had to have put that black paint over the cameras.

  “That’s Crissy,” Sal said behind him as Cole stepped over the lifeless body of the woman he’d just shotgunned. She lay splayed on the floor, eyes wide open and staring up accusingly at him as he passed her by. JANNERS was written on her name tag.

  Cole didn’t respond to Sal’s identification of the woman. The fact that she knew Janners’s first name meant they were friends. Or if not buds, then acquaintances.

  As if to confirm his thoughts, Sal said, “I liked Chrissy. She was cool. Always brought me extra sandwiches from aboveground. She knew I didn’t get the chance to go up often. Damn, you really shot her.”

  Cole wasn’t sure what really shot her meant. He’d shot her, yes, but how did you really shoot someone?

  Shot was shot, just like dead was dead.

  “She’s definitely shot, and dead,” the Voice said.

  Definitely.

  He concentrated on the turn that Janners had taken. He had been keeping track of their progress and knew they were halfway to the elevator. There hadn’t been any crazies until now, probably because they either knew he was well-armed and didn’t want to expose themselves to getting killed or— No, that was it. There was no or.

  “Crazy as fuck, but not stupid, remember?” the Voice said.

  Of course he remembered. He was the one that came up with that particular theory.

  The Voice laughed. “You know, sometimes I think you forget that I’m also you.”

  I haven’t forgotten.

  “You sure? Because sometimes I get the feeling you have.”

  You’d be wrong.

  “Okay, chum, if you say so.”

  “Almost there,” Sal said—half-whispering—behind him. “Two more turns, and we’re at the final hallway.”

  Cole nodded, even though he already knew that. “Stick close.”

  “I’m sticking close,” she said, the tap-tap of her makeshift crutch the only sound other than the soft falls of his shoes against the polished floor.

 

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