“Yes.”
“Why?” As soon as it was out of my mouth, I wanted to kick myself. I really should not be looking this particular gift horse in the mouth.
Allison sighed and sat back in her chair again. “Because after hearing that story, it occurs to me that what you’ve been through over the last few days has been worse than what I’ve been through. And instead of being mad at you, I should probably be proud of you. What you did in Southtown…you guys saved a lot of people.”
“Okay…I feel a ‘but’ coming on.”
“But if you want to apologize for the way you talked to me yesterday...”
“Yeah, I’m really sorry about that. I was under a lot of stress, and I lashed out. You didn’t deserve that.”
The amber eyes blinked lazily at me, the full lips curving into a smile. “That’s better.”
We moved over to the couch and assumed our usual position: me against the arm, Allison laying with her head on a pillow and her feet in my lap, and me rubbing said feet.
“How long do you think it will take?” she asked.
“Best guess? Maybe a few hours to find and destroy the Draugr. Maybe a few more to track down and kill anyone they turned. After that it’ll be all about damage assessment and helping the wounded.”
“I wish I could be there at the hospital. I’m a doctor. I should be helping.”
“You can barely stand for more than ten minutes at a time.”
A sigh. “Yeah. I know.”
I yawned, blinked, and decided to lay my head back for a little while. As I closed my eyes, I felt Allison shift and stick her feet under my thigh to keep them warm.
When I opened my eyes again, it was dark outside the window.
CHAPTER FIFTY
Eric,
BSC Headquarters
After Allison informed me that I had slept through the day and that she and the little guy were going to bed, I took a shower, put on some clean clothes, and went looking for Gabe.
He was not in his office, so I went downstairs to reception. There was a security guy at the desk who informed me that Mr. Garrett was still in the field but was expected back in the next few hours.
“Heard anything about the outbreak?”
The guard glanced up from a book he was reading. “Radio says the situation has been contained, but the government wants everyone to stay inside until they give the all clear.”
“That it?”
“That’s all they’re saying so far.”
“What’s your take on it?”
The guard looked up again. I got the impression he was surprised I was asking for his opinion. He was an older fellow, maybe late fifties, lean, fit looking, and had the demeanor of former military. His dark gray fatigues were a few shades lighter than the Blackthorn’s regular infantry, which marked him as site security instead of operational personnel. Nevertheless, despite his age and seeming indifference, I doubted Gabe and Tyrel would employ someone unqualified to handle a bad situation.
“My take?”
“Yeah.”
He shrugged a little. “I think most people are going to stay out of the way until the Army’s off the streets. But after that…people are going to want some answers.”
“Any casualty reports come in?”
“You mean for the Blackthorns?”
“For anyone.”
“FEMA’s not saying too much at this point. Probably don’t know the extent of the damage just yet. It’s still early. Blackthorns lost four guys today, I know that much.”
I nodded slowly at that. “Hate to hear it.”
“Could have been a lot worse. Most of the guys first on the scene were at the Refugee District a few days ago. Knew what to expect.”
“How do you know that?”
He smiled. “I’m a social man. People talk. I listen. Nobody pays much attention to us security guys. You’d be amazed the stuff we hear.”
I found myself smiling back. “I bet I would. You have a good night.”
He waved as I left and went back to his novel.
I spent the next few hours at the visitor’s center. It was as nice as any standard hotel I had ever stayed in. There was a coffee bar open until one in the morning, a collection of DVDs, a serviceable television in the lounge, a snack bar, and a rec room with billiards, foosball, and card tables. A hallway led to a gym and a business center with desktop computers, printers, and paper available for a small fee per copy. There was even onsite laundry.
I found Cole and Holland in the rec room engaged in a highly competitive two-man nine-ball tournament. Holland was up three games to two, but Cole was making a comeback. I got a cup of coffee and a bag of trail mix from the snack bar and sat on a stool against the wall and watched them play. The other guys had turned in for the night, which I found not surprising at all.
Neither Cole nor Holland had heard much about what was going on outside headquarters. The emergency broadcasts were all the same, just a bland, male voice telling people the outbreak was under control and to stay indoors until further notice. A few small convoys of Humvees and APCs had already returned, which indicated the Blackthorns had done all they could and were in the process of standing down.
At just after midnight, I felt vibration in the wall I was leaning against and heard motors in the distance. I finished my coffee and threw away the empty trail mix bag.
“I’m gonna go see what’s happening,” I said.
Cole and Holland looked at each other, shrugged, and went back to their game.
Outside, I watched Humvee after Humvee stream through the main gate. They were followed by a pair of APCs, four Strykers, and a HEMTT rigged for communications. Last was an armored command vehicle, which stopped at the main headquarters building to drop off Hadrian Flint and Tyrel Jennings. I was about to approach them when I heard the thump of rotors overhead. I made my way to the helipad.
Gabe was the first one out the door. He said something to the men who had been in the helicopter with him, shook a few hands, and started walking toward the headquarters building. I stood on the sidewalk and waited for him to reach me.
“How’d it go out there?” I asked when he was close enough. He stopped, wiped both hands across his face, and let out a breath.
“About as well as could be expected.”
“If you don’t feel like talking, I can come back later,” I said.
He shook his head. “No, it’s fine. Not like I’m gonna sleep anytime soon anyway. Come on, let’s go see my girls.”
I followed him inside and waited while he talked to the security guard. The guard told him which of the executive suites his family was in and then we went upstairs. Gabe knocked on the door and waited. A few seconds later, the door opened.
“Dad,” Sabrina said, and stepped out to hug him fiercely. Gabe returned the hug and held his daughter for a while. I stayed quiet and tried not to move around.
“Are you okay?” Sabrina asked, stepping back.
“I’m fine. A little tired is all. Elizabeth up?”
“No, she’s knocked out. Had a migraine. Doctor at the infirmary gave her something to help her sleep.”
Gabe frowned. “Like what?”
I was curious as well. Pharmaceuticals were mostly a thing of the past.
“Laudanum,” Sabrina said, smiling sheepishly.
Gabe narrowed his eyes. “He better not have given her too much.”
“She’s fine, Dad. Come on inside. You too, Eric.”
I let Gabe go first and then stepped through the door. The apartment did not look much different than the one Gabe had lent me, although the decorating scheme was different. This one was done up to look like a hunting lodge. Racks of antlers and large fish mounted on the walls, paintings of fox hunts and horsemen, and an antique Winchester mounted over the fireplace. I stepped closer to examine it and saw it was an 1873 model chambered in .38-40. A valuable relic before the Outbreak, but now little more than a conversation piece. Still, it was a nice touch.
“I’m gonna go check on her,” Gabe said.
Sabrina gave a thumbs up and headed toward the kitchen. There was a small refrigerator from which she pulled a pitcher of water, a length of cured sausage, some bread, and a hunk of hard cheese.
“Hungry?” Sabrina asked me.
“Starving.” I sat down with her at the kitchen table.
Sabrina poured me a glass of water—an actual glass, not the usual wood or metal—grabbed a kitchen knife from a block on the counter, and started slicing up the sausage.
“You doing okay?” she asked.
“I’m fine. Managed to get some sleep. You?”
“Nothing I can’t handle. Haven’t slept a wink, though. Too wound up.”
“I know the feeling.”
She finished with the sausage and began carving off slices of the cheese. It was dense, pale white, and from the smell, made from unpasteurized goat’s milk. My mouth watered at the sight. I never ate unpasteurized cheese before the Outbreak, and the difference in flavor was eye-opening. The difference in danger to one’s health was also eye-opening if not properly prepared, but I was willing to bet BSC only sourced from reputable producers.
Sabrina grabbed a couple of plates—wooden this time—and dropped a couple of handfuls of sausage and cheese onto mine. She did the same for herself and laid the knife down next to the bread. I carved off a couple of slices and made a sandwich.
“This cheese is amazing,” I said.
“I know. I can’t stop eating it.”
“Any idea who makes it?”
“No clue. I just know it was in the fridge when Elizabeth and I got here.”
I looked toward the bedroom at the end of the apartment. The door was open, and there was enough light I could see Gabe’s silhouette sitting on the side of the bed. Elizabeth had rolled over and I could hear her talking sleepily to Gabe. After a few minutes, Gabe leaned down, kissed his wife, and then gently shut the door on his way out.
“Want a bite to eat?” Sabrina asked.
Gabe looked at the spread and swallowed. “Yes. Yes I do.”
He sat down and made a sandwich. I had finished my first one and was still hungry, so I made a second. We sat in silence and ate for a few minutes. It was nice. There was no awkwardness, no attempts at empty conversation, no effort to make the moment anything other than what it was. That’s how you know someone is really your friend. When you could just sit down with them and not talk and be perfectly fine.
When we were all finished, Gabe leaned over and kissed his daughter on top of her head. “I’m going up to my office. I’ll be back later.”
“Okay. We’ll be here.”
Upstairs in Gabe’s office, he peeled off his tactical gear and hung it up in his wall safe. Then he reached in a drawer, took out a bottle and a couple of glasses, and set them on the desktop.
“Am I hallucinating,” I said, “or is that an actual bottle of Jameson?”
“You’re not hallucinating.” Gabe poured a couple of fingers into each glass and offered me one. “After a day like today, it’s warranted.”
“No argument there.” I took the glass and sniffed the whiskey. It had been so long I had forgotten how good the stuff smelled. I set it back on the desk.
“You know, Mike Stall opened a new distillery in Kentucky. His first batch of bourbon should be ready in a few years.”
“I heard. Already pre-ordered a case.”
“Only a case?”
“Any more would be too much of a temptation. Speaking of.” He took the bottle off his desktop and stowed it in its drawer.
“How’d it go out there?” I asked.
A long sigh. “Could have been a hell of a lot worse. We managed to take out the Draugr pretty quick. Learned our lesson from the last time we fought ‘em; used our heavy weapons right from the start. Draugr are tough motherfuckers, but you cut the legs out from under ‘em, and they go down the same as any other ghoul.”
I nodded and remained silent, hoping he would continue. Gabe took a couple of slow sips of whiskey and set down his glass.
“Tracked down the rest of the infected by nine in the morning. Army helped a lot with that. Takes a lot of boots on the ground, you know?”
I nodded again. “If the infected were wiped out by nine, what have you been doing all day?”
“Damage assessment, processing survivors, decontamination, body disposal, putting out fires, that kind of thing.”
“How many casualties, you think?”
He drummed his fingers on the desktop. “Maybe a hundred or so civilians. Four Blackthorns. No regular Army, as far as I know.”
“I’m sorry about your men.”
Gabe lowered his head. “Thanks. One of them was with Sabrina and Elizabeth. They got attacked by a Draugr. Fucking thing jumped on him. Sabrina took it out while it was distracted.”
I could not think of anything to say to that.
“The others were taking down a Draugr when they got jumped from behind by a bunch of fast-movers. Never had a chance.”
Gabe was quiet for a few seconds after that. Finally, he said, “You know earlier, at the tavern, when I said we failed?”
“Don’t think I’ll ever forget.”
“Well, I’m starting to reassess that.”
“How so?”
Gabe raised a hand to scratch at his beard, realized he did not have one, and put his hand in his lap. “I think you were right, what you said about the attack at the Refugee District. I think it was a distraction, but I don’t think that was what SRT originally planned.”
“Yeah, I was thinking about that too. If what Caleb says about the Draugr is true, then they must have been in the district for a long time before the attack.”
“Exactly. Which means they were meant for something else, but then when the kidnapping failed, SRT needed something to draw the feds’ attention.”
“So they released the Draugr in the Refugee District.”
A nod.
“Kinda backfired on ‘em,” I said.
“Yeah, it did. But that’s what happens when people panic. They don’t think things through.”
“What do you think the original plan was?”
Another sip of whiskey. I still had not touched mine.
“I think it was supposed to be a test run,” Gabe said. “Proof of concept.”
I thought about it. It made sense. “The District is fenced in. SRT probably owned the guardsmen, which is why they weren’t there when we showed up.”
“Probably lying in a shallow grave by now,” Gabe said.
“Probably. So they locked the gates, released the Draugr, and hung back to see what happened.”
“Pretty much.”
“Must have liked what they saw.”
“In their place, I would have.”
I crossed my feet in front of me and steepled my hands. “You know, the more I think about it, the more impressive of an operation it was. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s the most sadistic thing I’ve ever seen in my life. But the scale of it, the timing, the planning, the coordination, the sheer effort and expense that must have gone into it…”
“I know what you mean. Whoever this Heinrich character is, he’s a smart one. A planner. He knows how to train people, control them, manipulate them, organize them, how to play the long game. He had this thing worked out down to the finest detail. At least until we came along.”
“What do you think his endgame was?”
Gabe shrugged. “My guess? I think he wanted to destabilize the power structure. Cause chaos. Create opportunities for the tribe. Make inroads they couldn’t make before. We’ve seen a lot of that since the Outbreak.”
I shook my head. “Must be one evil son of a bitch. By the way, did you ever hear from Stan?”
“Nothing yet.”
Gabe swirled his glass and stared into nothing for a few seconds. “You know what I think he was going to do?”
“What?”
“I thin
k he was planning to wait. After the district, he knew what the Draugr were capable of. So, he recalculated and started looking at how to do the most damage at the best time. I think he caught wind we were closing in on him, and that’s why he released the Draugr when he did. Doesn’t make sense otherwise.”
“How so?”
“Well, look at the timing. The attack happened early in the morning before most people were even out of bed. Streets are mostly empty that time of day. If you’re trying to cause as much destruction as possible, wouldn’t you wait until mid-day when the there’s tens of thousands of people on the street?”
I made a face at the thought. “Yeah, I guess I would.”
“That was one of our saving graces—that the attack happened so early. If it had happened at mid-day, it would have been a blood bath. Can you imagine all seven sites blowing at the same time, thousands of people in the streets, Draugr running around all over the place?”
“I’d rather not think about it.”
“We couldn’t have contained it,” Gabe said. “Not the way we did this morning. With that many people around, that many Draugr, and as fast as their victims turn? Half the city would have been destroyed.”
“At least.”
“As it stands, we got a couple hundred dead, counting the Refugee District. And that was with us and the FBI and Homeland all working to stop this thing from happening. If Stan hadn’t spent the last couple of years gathering intel on SRT…”
“We would have been clueless.”
A slow nod.
I picked up my glass and raised it. “To Stan. Savior of Colorado Springs.”
“To Stan.”
We drank to that. I held the whiskey on my tongue and let it down slowly. “Man, I forgot how good this stuff is.”
“Way better than moonshine.”
“God yes.”
Another protracted silence filled the room. I thought about the events of the previous day, and with a jolt, I sat up in my chair.
“Hey, what about the prisoner?” I said. “What’s his name? Tahaka?”
Gabe made a face. “Yeah, about that…”
“What?”
“He uh…he escaped.”
My eyebrows shot up to my hairline. “Escaped?”
Surviving The Dead | Book 9 | War Without End Page 34
