The 911 dispatcher never came back on the line. The police never showed. The dead outside her door didn’t leave for six hours until she was too exhausted to cry any more. When she went back down the stairs, Brian’s body was gone. Only pools of darkened blood were left in his place.
***
She shuddered in the freezing cold, watching the bleak dark brown water flow by her pontoon boat. Dead trees lined the banks of the river in forests of gray with floors of white. They followed the large charter flat-topped boats filled with soldiers and bikers.
Tony put his arm around her from above, squeezing her tightly into his body. “I think we’re getting close.” His breath misted in the chilled air. His black-rimmed glasses fogged on his face. He took them off and rubbed them with the soft underside of his coat and placed them back on.
She studied her paper map. “Another mile or two. I’m hoping we can get out of this open cold for a little while before we have to move on.” Her team of eleven Sable Pointers stared back at her from beneath layers and layers of clothing they had put on in an attempt to stave off the cold.
The dead had lined the shores of the river for miles. They would follow for a time before they would find something else to follow. There always seemed to be more of them than before, and it gave her a fraction of a percentage point of hope that they might succeed in staying alive.
“I’d do anything for a hot chocolate,” Tony said. His eyes crinkled on the edges. Not so different from Brian, but different.
“That would be glorious.” She shared his smile, which was more than she shared with Brian before the outbreak. Her marital life had been lacking as much as her childless home. She had found comfort in the younger man, but she was so much different than she was before the outbreak. She couldn’t help but wonder what her life would have been like had Brian survived or the outbreak had never happened.
Same routine. Day in and day out until one of them croaked. She’d be sitting at home doing a crossword, bored out of her mind waiting for Brian to get home from the plant. She’d hand him his paper and they’d sit down to a fried pork chop or spaghetti or something they’d both had a thousand times. It was just easier to make what you already knew. They’d talk about the weather or the Tigers or the yard work that needed done, and everything would be normal and routine, easy and boring.
The outbreak was her ugly, nasty, fresh start on a new life as a new person. A new person that had fallen for this younger man. She felt little guilt about her new relationship. Her other life was a million years in the past, and each day was its own lifetime when every minute could be your last.
Buildings on the outskirts of Burlington were dim and unlit. As they got closer to the downtown area, they drifted the boats to a metal dock. The long pontoons holding bikers and soldiers lined either side of the dock, and Margie had Berry take her pontoon to another shorter nearby slip. Tony jumped up on the dock and wrapped a rope around a pillar.
With stiff limbs, the Sable Pointers offloaded their packs and they disembarked. The War Machines were making their way to a big warehouse ahead of them followed by Lieutenant Gunther and his platoon of soldiers.
Margie shouldered her pack and led her group toward the steel-sided and metal-roofed warehouse. Margie didn’t expect much warmth and comfort in its interior.
The Sable Pointers entered a side door. A female biker with a heavy jawline and striking chin smiled at her when she walked past. Margie removed her scarf, unwinding it from around her neck.
“Is Red Clare here?”
The woman grinned. “Over with War Child.”
“Thank you.” She turned to Tony. “Can you make sure the pontoon is refueled and anything we need is ready?”
“I will.” He grabbed Will and they walked away toward fuel tanks housed inside the warehouse. The Seven Sisters sat congregated near the center of the building. A contained fire blazed in the middle. Temporary heaters blew hot air, all directed toward a cluster of people.
She approached War Child and Red Clare. They both shared a cigarette. Red Clare was probably the same age as Margie, but the effects of smoking had pruned her mouth and wrinkled her cheeks, making her appear much older. Her coarse red hair ran unkempt down her shoulders and back.
“Can’t say I remember you,” she said. Her voice sounded froggy like she needed a glass of water.
“Margie, Sable Point Volunteers.”
Red Clare nodded. “One of those by the lake. War Child was just filling me in on the plan.”
“We’re headed north to help Captain Heath hold his line while he investigates Major Alvarado’s missing Marines.”
Red Clare smiled, her wrinkles around her eyes deepening. “I know.”
“Dana,” Red Clare waved over a lean and strong-looking woman with well-defined cheeks. “Let’s find a good spot for the Volunteers near the fire.”
Margie did not want to be brushed to the side. “Pleasure to see you again.”
“We’ll see each other again soon enough.” Red Clare smiled wide, showing her yellowing teeth.
“Tomorrow morning, early, we’ll head back out,” War Child said. He regarded her for a moment, blowing smoke out of his nose. “Good night.” He dismissed her like she was but a fly buzzing around his head. He turned back to Red Clare.
Margie followed the tough-looking biker, waving the Volunteers behind her.
They were led to a section of ground near the fire.
“This should do,” Dana said, gesturing at the ground.
“Thanks.”
Tony tossed down his pack, peeled off his gloves, and unraveled his scarf. “Colder than heck out there.” He wiped his nose and leaned over the fire like it was a long-lost friend.
“Is the boat fueled up?”
He glanced at her through his glasses. “Topped off and ready to go.”
“Good,” she said, nodding. Stripping off her pack, she set it near his along with her rifle. She ran a hand over her knife on her hip. Soon she found herself leaning over the fire, embracing its warmth. The soldiers placed themselves near the far end of the building, bedding down in neater rows but still not exactly as uniform as she expected.
Her eyes kept returning to Red Clare and War Child. “I wonder what those two are talking about?”
Tony looked up, breathing on his hands between bouts of shoving them near the flames. “Red Clare and War Child?”
“Yeah.” She cupped her hands together. “They are pretty chummy for rival gangs.”
“Haven’t they known each other forever? Besides, they’re on our side.”
“I guess you’re right.”
He put an arm around her. “Not everyone is out to get us. There are still good people left out here.”
She rested her head on his shoulder. “Sometimes it doesn’t feel like it anymore.”
He breathed into her hair. “You got me, don’t you?”
“Yeah.” The flames danced a midnight fury.
JOSEPH
Cheyenne Mountain Complex, CO
The elevator slid closed behind him with a loud metallic clang, making him almost visibly jump. His steps echoed from wall to wall through the narrow passage. Recessed lighting hung from the ceiling along with a myriad of piping and exposed electrical wires bracketed in place.
The corridor was lined with four doors on either side. Small windows, four-inches round, were at eye-level on each door so an outside observer could look in on the detained person. Every cell was dark. He was only three floors deeper into the complex. That was as far as the elevator would take him.
A solid white door met him at the end of the hall. Near the doorframe was a boxy keypad and scanner. A rectangular security camera angled down on the doorway, getting a clear view of anyone going in or out.
Joseph put his ID card next to it. No beeps, dings, or dongs rang out. He whispered under his breath, trying not to look guilty. “Goddammit.” He rearranged the card over the face of the proximity card scanner hoping a new angle
might grant him access. Tugging on the door handle, he was still denied.
Did our mysterious major screw me? He nervously adjusted his glasses on his nose and fixed his lab coat.
The red-lighted camera continued to peer down upon him, continuously watching and recording his every move. The weight of being on camera drew him in, and he gave the security camera above the door a furtive glance. He adjusted the card to the upper right corner of the scanner and let it rest there. Come on. It made the ba-da-beep sound, and the door lock disengaged.
Joseph speedily grabbed the door handle opening it. Metal-grated steps led down to a cave tunnel. Have I reached the end of the facility? He hesitantly stepped through. The tunnel was smaller than the ones near the surface that could handle cars and trucks. This one was meant for people. He stopped at the end of the steps.
The modular building complex rested atop giant springs. He assumed it was for earthquakes or nuclear strikes to give the buildings within the mountain flexibility to absorb such events and ensure the facility’s survival.
The carved rock walkways were wet here, and he was reminded that he was essentially in a giant mountain cave with caverns and that the only real end to the complex was decided by how far man wanted to dig into the bowels of the earth.
There was a slight downward decline as he walked, following the dripping walls of metal piping and the open hanging lights above. The tunnel bent and turned as he walked even farther into the mountainous depths. Even the air seemed tighter than inside the modular complex as if they hadn’t extended the ventilation system this deep and every bit of oxygen was being used.
The shapes of two men standing in front of a rust-ridden door graced him through the shadowy lights. His heart sped up in his chest as he closed on the two armed soldiers. Their guns were slung downward. Their faces were uncovered, revealing young men.
“What are you doing down here?” said the shorter soldier.
“I. Um.”
The shorter soldier squinted at him and raised his gun a few inches. “I don’t know how you got down here but go on back to the facility.” He waved him in the other direction.
“You can’t be here,” said the other guard, shooing Joseph with his gun.
“No, I’m supposed to be here. There’s a sick prisoner.” Oh God, please be the right place.
There was recognition in the guards’ eyes. They understood what he was talking about.
“I didn’t know any of them were sick,” said the short guard.
The taller guard frowned. “Yeah, I heard the old buzzard was down-and-out.”
The shorter guard shook his head in disgust. “This fucking duty.” He waved Joseph toward him. “Scan your card.” He stepped to the side revealing another card reader.
“You aren’t supposed to just let me in?”
“Come on, doc. You know the rules. You can’t gain access to this point unless you have a clearance and a need to know. Scan your card like everyone else.”
Joseph gave a shaky nod. “Of course.” He took out his ID card and placed it over the scanner. Pushing it hard on the reader, he waited and moved it over to the other side trying to find the sweet spot. Meanwhile the guards complained as if he weren’t there.
“This duty is the worst man. So boring,” said the shorter guard.
“Just another four hours to go.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Beats being outside.”
Joseph shifted the card to the other side. Work, you stupid thing.
“Does it? What I’d give for some fresh air, instead of this stinking recycled bullshit. Makes me claustrophobic, ya know? Like I’m in a coffin.”
“I’m telling you man, I started on the outside months ago. When civilians started showing up, it got nasty.”
“You have to go hot?”
“Yeah man, it was rough. Only once, but that was enough. I’d rather be down here on some forgotten guard duty than up there manning the fence.”
“I guess.” The shorter guard turned to look at Joseph. “Can’t you figure that out?” Snatching Joseph’s card, he inspected it. “Hmm, you don’t have level-four access. Should say it right here.” He jabbed a finger on the card in the area where the missing number should have been. “You sure you’re supposed to be here?”
Joseph’s throat jumped. “It was a last-minute thing. I don’t know. They told me that a prisoner needed treatment and pointed me in this direction.”
The guard shook his head. “Here, let me try.” He put the card in the top right corner of the reader. The door clicked. “Damn thing doesn’t like to read unless the card is in the magic spot. I guess that’s what you get when you only update things every twenty-five to thirty years.” He smiled at Joseph and handed him his card back.
Joseph clipped it on his belt. “Thanks.” He stepped inside a wide cave with a shallow ceiling. The door shut behind him.
Two guards in all black sat at a small table with MP5 submachine guns strewn on the tabletop. One read a nudie magazine with the words Sexxxxy Time scrawled along the top, and the other played solitaire with a deck of cards. The one looking at the porno peered over the magazine at Joseph.
“Why are you here?”
“One of them is sick.”
The guard tossed his magazine down. His name tag became clear as he moved closer. Greer. “All I ever hear is a bunch of bitching and moaning out of these two-timers.” His eyes glared at Joseph expectantly. “You know where they are?”
“No,” Joseph said timidly.
The soldier stood and snatched his MP5. “All right, come on.” He lazily draped the submachine gun’s sling over his shoulders and waved for Joseph to follow. They walked to the far end of the cavern. Only a jagged rock wall stood before them. The soldier stopped.
“There,” Greer said with his chin. A square hole in the rocky ground emitted only blackness. The soldier flicked on his flashlight and grabbed a metal ladder. He grunted as he lowered it into the earth. When it hit the ground, he locked it into two metal bolts near the opening. Cruel eyes laid upon Joseph.
“Holler if they get frisky, but I ain’t going down this ladder for you, so you’re on your own. Which one of them’s sick anyway?”
“No one said.”
The guard shook his head and snorted. “So secretive. Where they gonna go? Outside the Triangle? Death sentence. Either way, I guess they’re sentenced to death.” The guard laughed. He hacked a loogie and spit down the hole. “Fucking traitors.”
Joseph gave a short smile. “Yes, I assure you, we aren’t going anywhere.”
“You sure aren’t.” With no urgency, Greer walked back to his table. Joseph gripped the ladder and clambered down rung after rung into the dark mountain cave. His foot crunched over loose rock.
“Byrnes?” Joseph said quietly. The stench of open sewage and unwashed bodies stung his nose. It was potent and sour and the air seemed even tighter here. A single light hung from the ceiling.
The sound of people getting to their feet ground out. Grimy and beaten people stared at him, not knowing what to make of this newcomer. Their eyes spoke volumes of mistrust and betrayal. Camouflaged uniforms. Dress uniforms. Civilian clothes. Others continued to sit desperately exhausted and defeated. The only way out was through the hole in the ceiling.
A short young man with a single bar on the chest of his stained ACUs perceived Joseph. He could have been Joseph’s nephew. He wasn’t very big, his shoulders were slumped, and his eyes were a light mocha color that held intelligence. “Who are you?”
“Dr. Jackowski. Is there a Colonel Byrnes being held here?”
The soldier’s eyes didn’t leave Joseph. “Why are you here?”
Joseph shoved his glasses up his nose. “To see Byrnes. Is he here?”
A slender man walked between the others. “It’s okay, Elwood.”
Colonel Byrnes stepped into the dim light. “You came.”
TESS
Southern Iowa
Wi
llie’s shod hooves puffed snow into the air as he walked. When the wind picked up, it caused the fresh flakes to swirl and blow away only to drift into a new place. Tess kept her head low, avoiding the frigid dust. She’d kept on the road to Farmington through the early morning darkness. Often she would turn and make sure she wasn’t being followed. Only bare trees, bent yellow cornstalks, and harsh winds trailed behind.
After avoiding Donnellson, she continued along Interstate 2 until she could no longer feel her fingers, and her face was completely numb. She was sure that she had little bearing on what or where the horse went. He walked and she stayed on top. Every now and then they would have a battle of wills as he bent his head down, trying to munch browning grass from the side of the roadway. She would struggle with the reins and Willie would pull back, stretching his neck in an attempt to get enough slack to reach food.
A road sign engraved with the outline of Iowa read Shimek State Forest. Denser timber surrounded the interstate going forward. A brown ranch-style house sat on the outside of the forest like a sentinel.
“Better stop while we can,” she said to the horse. Willie stood resilient. She tugged on the reins. “Come on, boy.” Willie’s ear twitched, but the horse stayed in place on the road.
She stared over at the house, wondering if the horse knew something she didn’t. Did Willie have some sort of animal sixth sense? The kind of intuition that let them know an earthquake was coming and to run.
The brown home was layered in snow, and the windows were lightless. No smoke rose from the chimney. Two cars rested in the driveway, but they looked abandoned as snow had drifted around the tires. “Willie, let’s go.”
She could feel the horse breathing beneath her, his sides flaring in and out in rhythm.
“Mush or whatever,” she said at him.
Willie tossed his head in response. She gave him a heel and yanked on his reins. He resistantly turned his head in the direction she led him.
“Come on. Why are you such a dick?”
He didn’t respond. His hooves crushed the frozen gravel-covered ground as he walked.
The End Time Saga (Book 5): The Holding Page 17
