by JT Sawyer
“What can you tell us about the direction you just came from—are the streets passable?” said Reisner. “We were planning to head that way, so anything you can relay would be helpful.”
Morgan shook his head. “You don’t want to go there—you can’t. Most of the streets have been blocked off.”
“What do you mean—from when the National Guard was here last week before the city fell?” said Blake.
“No—there’s a mountain of vehicles that have been shoved into place on every alley and street to the south and west. I saw a few hundred creatures shoving buses—actual city buses—and dozens of cars into a barricade. I had to wait until the clouds came in and blacked out the moon before I could get out of there. I barely climbed through a tiny opening in the barricade and it took me half an hour, just because I didn’t want any of those things spotting me.”
Reisner looked up at the others. “That’s what that grinding sound was that we were hearing most of the night—they’ve been sealing off our escape routes.”
“They’re just monsters—undead. They can’t really think like that.” Morgan said it more as a question than a statement as he looked up at the others.
“We don’t know yet what the alphas are capable of. I myself have seen some things I never thought possible,” said Reisner. “Regardless, we need to keep pushing on to the coast. It’s still our best bet for escape. With what Morgan just said, we should head north for half a mile and then see if we can get through one of the avenues leading west.” He glanced up at the sliver of sky above them then down at his watch. “We’ve got a few minutes until sunrise, so let’s get moving.” He patted Morgan on the arm. “You think you can keep up? How are you feeling?”
“Doesn’t matter—I’ll keep up, trust me.”
“What’d you do before all this, kid,” said Blake.
“Sculptor’s apprentice in an art studio not far from here.”
“Uhm, wow—that’s not something you hear every day,” said Blake, who tried not to roll his eyes. I can see you haven’t wasted your fucking life.
Blake wondered if Morgan could hold up for more than ten minutes. He seemed so frail, and reminded him of the legions of pasty white transplants from the East Coast who came out to L.A. after high school to try and land a job in Hollywood only to wind up working the midnight shift at McDonalds and never seeing the light of day for months. Still, the protector in Blake made him feel like he should keep an eye on the kid. Anyone who made it out alive from the queen bee’s lair has to have some balls. He tried to convince himself of his own statement as he looked at the dainty figure.
Nash whispered over his shoulder. “There it is again.”
Blake and the others glanced towards the end of the dark alley to where Nash was pointing. The rows of streetlights were flickering again. It was an intermittent pattern lasting several minutes, then stopping as the lights resumed their glow.
Blake stood up, offering his chunky hand to Morgan, who pried himself from the ground. “Not sure what the hell is going on anymore in this city, but stick by me, kid, and we’ll get through this.” He leaned in closer to whisper. “These dudes here are some spec-ops bad-asses, so we’re in good company. Besides, I’ve shaken their hands—they’re real men.”
“What are they doing here?”
“Not sure I have all the answers to that myself yet, but they said help will be on the way soon. We just gotta hold out until then.”
Blake thought back to the stories that Reisner and the others had relayed to him after they met. He didn’t know for sure what was real and what they had left out about what had led them to Los Angeles, but he had seen all of them in action and there was no denying they were skilled warriors. A man could talk a lot of bullshit about his fighting experience when the liquor was flowing at the bar, but there was no way you could lie about your abilities when the bullets started flying or the blades were drawn. Blake had been in enough bare-knuckle fights and armed altercations on the streets to know when he was in the company of other men capable of great violence. He wasn’t sure what the hours ahead would bring, but he figured tagging along with Reisner and his guys was the best way to assure there would be more sunrises in his future.
• • •
Morgan rubbed his side above his right hip, where he felt a cramp coming on since escaping the tunnels. His entire body felt achy, but he was sure it was from the food and water deprivation he’d suffered during the past few days of being held captive by the creatures. He looked ahead at the four men he was following through the dark streets and knew the expiration date on his existence had just been pushed back from where it had been hours earlier. Running across guys like this was a godsend, and he needed them to make it out of this city of horrors. They seemed like decent human beings, which made him feel a tinge of guilt for fabricating the story of his escape from the alpha creature. He hated lying, but his recollection of what happened to him after the drones delivered him to the alpha creature was hazy. All he remembered after seeing her stand over him was waking up in an alley a few blocks away from here. Morgan figured he wasn’t infected or he would have turned into one of those things already, so he would stick with his story for now. He wasn’t about to divulge everything he remembered for fear of them leaving him behind. No harm, no foul—I can always tell them more later, once I know ’em better. Besides, these guys look like they’ve survived a few battles, so I might just make it out of this city after all.
Chapter 17
Martinez and his men had cleared the upper decks of the Lachesis and then radioed back to General Dorr on their status and location. While two of Martinez’s men went to inspect the engine, Runa and the rest of the team headed down to the third level, passing through two air-sealed hatches that Captain Acosta had opened. Runa had first inspected the lab using the security camera footage on the bridge to make sure they weren’t walking into anything risky. Acosta seemed like the sincere captain he was, but Runa wasn’t taking any chances, and he still kept his NBC suit on and his oxygen mask strapped to his belt.
Walking down the last flight of steps, he followed Acosta, who paused every ten feet to explain the layout of the research rooms on either side. Unlike the other decks, which showed signs of the battle that Acosta had mentioned earlier, all of the scientific instruments and desktop items visible through the thick glass windows seemed to be in immaculate order in each room they passed.
“So what was your plan—to just remain here and wait for a passing ship to happen across you?” said Runa.
“I wasn’t about to abandon my own ship, especially with my injured crew. After the pandemic struck and I couldn’t get through to Siegel, my main goal was just to get to the Gulf, then I figured I’d make contact with him after that. That was before the satellite dish was destroyed.”
“What was your original mission?” said Martinez. “Why were you in the waters along South America in the first place?”
Acosta looked over at Runa, who nodded that it was alright for him to reply to the question. “The ship’s bioweapons staff were tasked with procuring some rare orchids from the Amazonian jungle. I don’t know all the science stuff—they just said there were compounds in the orchids that would prove useful in making a nearly undetectable toxin affecting the heart. It could be placed in water distribution sources in cities abroad if the agency determined such action was necessary.”
Runa shook his head and ground his teeth together. “Sounds like the David Siegel I knew alright.”
Acosta glanced back over his shoulder as they came to the end of the corridor. “Frankly, when I heard that from the lead scientist, I was glad I was going to be retiring soon and getting out of this business in another year. This is not the same agency I signed on with a decade ago.”
Runa gave a faint nod. You sure as hell got that right.
Acosta motioned to the large glass window before them. Runa strained to see inside the dark chamber, only making out a faint image of someone lying on a
gurney, with tubes and IVs snaking out from the extremities and mouth. Acosta tapped on the instrument panel to the right of the pressure-sealed door, which caused the overhead fluorescent lights inside to flicker on.
As the lab illuminated, Runa made out the smooth features of a tall male alpha, its nearly translucent skin showing faint signs of parasites moving underneath the surface. It had flossy black hair and was clad only in green shorts that were dappled in blood. On its left shoulder was a faded tattoo that seemed to be composed of several snakes entwined around a sword. The entire right side of the creature’s skull was covered in black burns, which Runa surmised were from the grenade exploding at close range.
Runa’s eyebrows shot up as he stared at the creature. This was as close as he ever wanted to get to an alpha, and he felt for Acosta, who had watched three of these demons decimate his entire crew before his eyes.
“This one seemed to have some authority over the other alphas, judging by its movements,” said Acosta. “I’ve studied the security footage from the attack, and it was clearly directing the other two.”
“Three alphas together at one time—I’ve never heard of that before,” said Martinez. “I assumed based upon field reports from other units and my own experience that they always operated alone.”
“I almost flung the fiend’s body overboard, but thought it might be of use back at Langley. It’s been heavily sedated, and like this for the past six days—in a coma.”
Acosta stepped closer to the glass. He grimaced as he pointed to a stainless-steel desk at the back of the room, where there was a row of seven polycarbonate vials containing clear fluid. Each one had a white pharmaceutical label with faint inscriptions that Runa couldn’t make out.
“But here’s the interesting thing: this creature had those bottles in a pouch slung over its shoulder.” Acosta slowly craned his head towards Runa. “Why do you think that is? Have any of the other alphas you’ve heard about had such things on them?” said Acosta.
Runa looked over at Martinez, whom he was sure had the same mortified expression as he did at the shocking revelation. Runa pressed his face closer to the glass, his eyes narrowing at the sight of the vials. “No, this is something new to me, but I think I know someone who could help answer some of our questions.”
Chapter 18
Ivins looked at his watch then out at the approaching city of Temecula. He tapped Connelly on the shoulder as she stared out of the window to the right.
“Just over seventy miles to East L.A.”
She pointed down to the silent city beneath them. “Isn’t there a marine base around here?”
“Camp Pendleton—to the west in Oceanside, but that place is dark, just like Coronado.”
“Is that where you were based out of—Coronado?”
“That’s right—when I was home for more than a week at a time. Me and my guys were usually deployed three hundred-plus days a year, so home was wherever my rucksack was at.”
“Sounds like us, though I was only on Reisner’s team for a month before the pandemic.”
“And before that?”
“The Farm for a year, going through training, and then in college.”
“So you’re not former military, I forgot about that. Reisner mentioned something about your background shortly after we met—all I recall was him saying that you were a damned fine operator.”
“That’s more than I ever got from him about my performance. He’s the silent type most of the time.”
“Except when he’s with Selene or you. Then he seems to lighten up some.” Ivins grinned. “Think that guy needs more women in his life, though that usually causes more problems than it solves, in my experience.”
“William has never had problems with finding women, but with holding onto them,” said Pacelle from the bench behind them. “He’s too much of a loner to stay in a relationship for more than a few months, and you’d do well to remember that, my dear.”
Connelly swiveled in her seat, glaring back at Pacelle. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Loving and letting go is the single most important thing you can learn in life.”
“Sounds like that’s your own jaded philosophy—not mine.”
“It is the way of things, Jessica, and has nothing to do with my personal philosophy.”
“Yeah, well, that doesn’t mean a person is supposed to go through life being alone.”
“And I’m not saying you should be alone. I’m implying that William is the type who seems destined to be so, by choice or fate. His wife and his mistress is the job—always has been.” Pacelle looked up at her from his laptop. “Besides, Selene will never fit into his world—maybe that’s why he seems so intent on pursuing her.”
Connelly scrunched her eyebrows together, wrinkling her forehead as she tried to fathom his words.
Ivins leaned back. “You two wanna finish your relationship therapy advice later? Right now, I need to see if you can get me a signal for Reisner’s location.”
“I just sent the last message out indicating our arrival, so hopefully Reisner or one of the others got it. With daylight here, my signaling method won’t be of much use after this.”
Connelly looked out the window, mulling over Pacelle’s words. Since spending more time with Selene, she had grown to respect the woman apart from the scientist. If that’s who Will is interested in then so be it. It’s time to step aside from those concerns. There is far more at risk in the world to worry about than my desires. Just acknowledging that lightened the weight on her shoulders, and she felt her breathing ease up.
Chapter 19
Reisner came to a halt beside an ice cream store on the corner. The inside was littered with a pastel of dried ice cream mingled with splotches of blood on the floor and walls that made it look like a tiny hurricane had shredded the interior.
Though he wasn’t carrying much weight, Reisner could feel his knees aching from the past two miles of trotting along the empty streets. The physical toll of being on the run for the past ten days since the pandemic began was wearing him out, and he knew that Nash and Porter were probably feeling the same. He looked over his shoulder at his team mates, lamenting the absence of Connelly. He hoped her head injury wasn’t severe, and knew that she was in capable hands with Selene, but wondered how the two women were getting along—if they were getting along. It seemed like the tension between the two hadn’t let up since their initial encounter, and Reisner hoped it would dissipate on its own without his involvement.
He thought back to the battle hours ago atop the NSA building before Connelly, Ivins, and the others had flown out. Or was that weeks ago? How long have we been trapped in this city? And where the hell is Ivins? He should’ve returned by now—something’s not right. He shook his head, marveling at the industrious nature of the drones piling up a mountain of vehicles along every avenue and alley to the west. Reisner glanced around the rooftops in each direction, noticing an absence of the gangly creatures. Why aren’t there any more of them trailing us?
He felt someone tapping him on his shoulder and saw Nash pointing to a facility three blocks ahead. The walls and entrances where enshrouded in a barrier of razor wire that was piled twelve feet high.
“What the hell is that place? If we could figure out a way inside, it might be a good place to hole up,” said Reisner.
“That’d be the MCJ—Men’s Central Jail,” said Blake. “Houses all manner of inmates, from low-level thugs to major cons. Place is a fucking pig-sty with food to match.”
Everyone looked back at Blake. “Had a cousin on the inside a few years ago—did six months for B&E.”
“And they put him behind bars for that,” smirked Nash. “Your justice system here was just too harsh.”
Blake rubbed his eyes with both fists. “Hell, the liberal judges here would let you off for almost anything short of an act of terrorism as long as you cried a little during your trial.”
“Yeah, well now there’s a new system in place
in the world—called Only the Strong Survive,” said Porter.
“That’s actually a pretty old system,” said Morgan, who let out a bronchial cough then wiped his shirt sleeve across his moist lips.
“Ain’t that the truth,” said Porter.
“Boss,” whispered Nash, pointing to a cluster of several vehicles, one of which was a van two blocks distant. “That’ll make a good sniper hide if you guys want to scout the entrance of the prison.”
“It’ll also put you without an escape route if the drones start moving back in.”
“I’m willing to risk it—we need to get a look at what’s in there. Besides, we’ve not seen any of the paras in a while.”
“That’s what bothers me.” Reisner mulled over their options. Right now they were running blind, only able to reconnoiter each city block as they sprinted past it. They couldn’t keep running, hoping to locate an opening. For all he knew, the routes to the west could be blocked off for miles. He glanced back at Morgan, who seemed paler than before, a bead of sweat resting on his forehead like morning dew on a withered tree branch. The frail man looked like he was going to collapse, and then they would be stuck carrying him, further reducing their mobility.
He glanced back at Nash, giving him a nod. “Alright, we’ll give you ten minutes to get in position.”
“Copy that,” said Nash.
“Then what? We just walk up to the front gate and see if there are any friendlies inside?” said Blake.
Reisner glanced down at his walkie-talkie sheathed in a pocket in his vest. “Let’s try seeing if we can get through to anyone first. I’d much rather let ’em know we’re coming and our intentions. We don’t know if they have any booby traps set up outside the perimeter, and that sure looks like an electric fence behind all the razor wire, which is probably what’s kept out all the creatures.”
He thrust his chin up and yanked out the walkie-talkie, adjusting the frequency and repeating the same message: “Occupants of the MCJ, do you copy. We are a group of survivors near your facility and are requesting assistance, over.”
