Infected World Trilogy (Books 1-3): They Only Come Out At Night

by Guenther, David

  The armory door was held open by the body of a police officer. Caleb stepped over him, stopping to remove the taser from his belt. The armory was not as impressive as he remembered the one at Peterson AFB. One wall was dedicated to yellow shotguns, underneath were numerous boxes of specialty ammo, bean bag rounds, rubber slugs, and electric projectiles. Caleb grabbed a box of the electric projectile ammo and tore open the five round box. He could see the wires and different parts through the clear shell case. He looked back at the box it had been in and read with amazement that it had an electrical charge to stun its target. He grabbed the fifty boxes that were there, then searched the rest of the armory, finding more taser pistols still in their boxes, then the huge case of electric projectile ammo. If I get all this to the truck, I’ve had a good day! Now move your butt.

  Peters looked through the open door into the darkness. Somewhere inside either the building, or the motorhome parked inside it, was his ex-wife. His sons and his body guard at his side. He could hear his ex-wife shrieking at them all, but afraid to go near the door and the deadly sunlight. Staff Sergeant Werner spoke, “General Peters, please let me go in and do it.” He was holding the cattle prod he’d picked up earlier in town from the feed store. Figuring the General would see reason, or he’d have snuck back earlier and done it himself already.

  “Jody, that’s the mother of my sons. This is my job.” He took the cattle prod and pressed the button the sound was similar to static. He took a deep breath and entered the metal building. He felt around along the wall and found the light switch. The huge lights hanging from the ceiling sounded like they were sizzling as they flickered then illuminated the large open bay in bright white light. Elora was cowering in the corner, she was pale and toned, thanks to the boys bringing her food every day. She looked ten years younger than he remembered her as he approached. She had her head down and was still in pain from the bright lights. She could sense him and smell him near her, yet was not afraid, she could sense both love and regret. She turned to face him and everything went black and stopped. “I still love you, Elora. I hope we can be together again,” Peters whispered gently. “Boys, I need a blanket for your mom. While she’s out, I want you to clean out the building and the motorhome. When it’s clean, let me know and I’ll move your mother back in until she wakes up. I want to play it safe in case things don’t work out. Be sure to wear your work gloves and don’t touch anything that you can cut yourself or get infected with.” Daniel brought the blanket and could not help but stare at what his mom looked like now.

  Wrinkling his nose, Daniel looked at his father. “Dad, you might want to take her into the RV and wash her down. She stinks like shit.” Peters fought the urge to slap his son for his insubordinate remark. But he had to agree it couldn’t hurt.

  Chapter 24

  Douglas, Wyoming. April 14, 2029

  “The best location to insert the team would be here,” the Colonel pointed on the map to a private airport near Sacramento. “Satellites have not picked up any electronic communications or chatter. Both strips are clear. If there are no road blockages, you can drive to Travis in an hour. The only detractor is that everything is in a heavily built-up area. When it gets dark it’s not a nice place to be if you’re from out of town.” The Colonel was the only one to laugh at his joke.

  “Sir, there’s long stretches of Highway Five that are closer. Most of it has trees and other impediments. This area, south of where Highway Five crosses the Mokelumne River, only has a few stalled cars. I can drop in four men and clear it. I really don’t like big cities or surprises.” Sgt First Class Hope proposed.

  “I suppose that’s possible, but not recommended.” The colonel continued to study the map. “Colonel Walters, you were slated to pilot the Alpha standby aircraft. You will now launch in one hour to deliver paratroops south of the Mokelumne River Bridge. You will drop the team at eight hundred feet, then you will immediately depart the area flying straight for twenty miles minimum. You will not loiter or draw any attention if possible to yourself as you depart to the east. Will that work for you, Sgt Hope?”

  “Yes, sir. Hopkins, Johns, Moon, and Noon, you know the drill. I’ll be at the field to see you off in an hour. The four men quickly left their places at the table as others crowded around closer.

  “You now don’t have a spare mission aircraft if one breaks.” The Colonel reminded Hope before stepping away from the table, his part of the job now done.

  “We will be wheels up in three hours. With our new airborne modification to the plan, we will need to change the chalks a little. Chalk one, on aircraft one, will be the original two trucks as planned, personnel will be myself, Hofstetter, Stuart, Eto, and Lt Alban. Stuart, you drive truck one, Eto, truck two. Chalk two, on aircraft two, will be two civilian trucks, personnel, Becker, Mueller, Sung, Pruitt, and Technical Sergeant Widauf. Pruitt drives truck three, Sung truck four. Approach to the target is as we already planned. Last reminder, zero communications from the moment we’re wheels up until target is either neutralized or captured. That does include satellite communications, with the one exception I’ve discussed with Technical Sergeant Widauf. Any questions? Okay, we’re done here.”

  Hope was feeling a little dizzy after bending over to tie his boot. When he stood upright, he was fighting nausea. He looked around and was relieved no one had been there to witness it. He waved to a security forces airman driving a pickup and was able to get a lift out to the C-130. It appeared there was the normal orchestrated pandemonium by the aircrew and maintainers as he climbed through the crew hatch. It was the first time he’d seen the inside of a C-130 that was empty, down to there not even being troop seats down, except for at the back of the plane. His guys were sitting on each side in pairs. “Everyone ready here?” He felt dumb asking it that way, considering who he was talking with, but it’d do to start the discussion.

  “Why are we going LALO? Why not just jump further out and HALO in?” Moon asked.

  “The planes are coming in as low as possible in case there is any type of radar that was missed. Also, there are high winds from the west at 1200 feet up to 8000 feet. Any problem stowing your gear in the trucks?”

  “I had an airman that was too interested in our gear so I asked him to pass on the word to see us if they had to adjust anything with the load. That it was all booby trapped in case we were overrun on the ground. What a dumb ass!” Moon laughed at his own comment. The banter dropped off as the crew started closing up the aircraft. Hope gave a last look over the men, noticing how light they were dropping in, especially no reserve chutes, since dropping from 800 feet would not give them enough time to get rid of the main chute and then deploy the reserve. It would be an 8 second ride when the trip was over. Hope shook hands all around, then got off as the first engine started up.

  The C-130 thundered over the truck, coming from nowhere, giving Caleb an initial thrill then he remembered Grits was taking his place on a mission. He swore and stomped on the accelerator pedal. Thankfully, the lanes had been cleared as the truck neared 100 mph. He could feel it leave the ground over some dips in the highway, but he didn’t get his usual joy from the sensation of speed. Anger was building; he began to imagine they had sent him away to avoid a confrontation. He didn’t slow when he turned off Highway 25, heading north on highway 59. After only a couple minutes he stood on the brake, almost losing it as he left a trail of rubber on the concrete before turning off the 59 on the road to headquarters. The driver of a deuce and a half stopped at the stop sign, openly laughed at his laying of rubber before turning north himself.

  Caleb pulled in behind the reserved parking slots for half a dozen senior officers, and a couple of senior NCOs. He ran to the front door to the headquarters building and was challenged by an ancient Air Force senior NCO, wearing an old uniform years out of date. Caleb ignored him and informed the airman behind him he was heading for Captain Conrad’s office before moving past them.

  “Did the mission take off without me?” Caleb
asked, trying his best to remain cool.

  “What mission is that? I’m in the dark about any mission for you. Did you get the supplies I asked for?” Caleb wasn’t happy but figured he’d unload the truck and go hunting until he heard something in the headquarters building. Exiting Conrad’s office, he spotted his old boss, Major Arnot, leaving the dining facility from the rear exit.

  “You look like you’re doing okay, sir.” Caleb said, happy to see his old boss and forgetting he was angry.

  “Caleb, you’re a sight for sore eyes. Are you coming back to Special Ops? They took my last specialist, Technical Sergeant Widauf, for some damn mission.”

  “Actually sir, I’m going on the same mission as soon as I drop off some equipment for Captain Conrad. It was nice seeing you again.” He hurried to his truck trying not to run, Conrad a couple of steps behind him.

  “Here you are, sir. I learned something today. I didn’t know they had taser shotgun shells, I grabbed a dozen yellow shotguns that fire them, but I read the ammo box and it said a regular 12 gauge would fire them also.”

  “Caleb, you make a hell of a good scrounger. Take my truck, it’s behind the building and head out to the airfield. If there’s a mission going down, that’s where you want to be to find it. I’ll have your truck unloaded.

  Caleb gave the SUV a second glance. It had been a sheriff’s vehicle and Conrad had found magnetic tape to put a Security Forces sign on the front doors. He fought the urge to put on the sirens as he drove towards the airfield, enjoying the drive. Turning off 59 towards the airfield, the gate guards saluted as he passed, obviously mistaking him for the Captain.

  Nearing the airfield, he could sense Grits was somewhere close by. He finally determined she was either in or near one of the two C-130s being loaded at the end of the taxiway. He pulled up and hopped out, making sure to grab his bag and his new mini AR15 pistol he’d been unable to leave back at the police station. Gloria was with the rest of the team under the wing in the shade. There was no banter as one would expect, instead everyone seemed to be introspective at the moment. Gloria was up and running before she even saw him. She unintentionally slammed into him and grabbed him in a tight bear hug. “Thanks for coming to see me off, Sweetie.”

  “Change One. I’m here to take my place on the mission.” Pushing her away slightly, so he could breathe, he noticed the Captain bars on her hat and tunic. “Are you shitting me? You desert and they give you a promotion?” Gloria grabbed him by the elbow and walked him away from the others.

  “Can you keep your voice down? I don’t need that crap advertised. The general himself promoted me. I’m a career Air Force officer, I need this mission since I’m not an operator. I might be able to get into Special Operations Command when the world is fixed and I have this on my resume.”

  Caleb swore softly and then headed back over to the group. “Who’s in charge here?” He could sense which man was going to speak, and that he was very ill.

  “What can I do for you, Lieutenant?” Hope asked, recognizing who he was only after he asked.

  “I’m here for the mission, Sergeant. I’m guessing you wanted me for my Z-abilities. I want you to know I’m fully healed and ready for the mission.” Sensing he was about to be turned down, he added softly, “Among my other skills, I can tell when someone is not healthy enough for a mission Sergeant.” Hope took a moment and tried to stare down Caleb.

  “Sgt Sung, the lieutenant will be riding in your truck. Help him get squared away.” Hope said, trying to sound neutral.

  “I’d like to thank you all by passing out some party favors.” Caleb reached into his bag and started tossing new stun guns, each still in the box to everyone. “This is quieter than using a silencer, and when you shock them they just drop without even screaming or thinking. Lots of time when you kill an infected, they have time to send off a ‘feeling’ of danger to others nearby. And on a positive note, when they wake up, they’re cured.”

  “That sounds like a load of crap.” Mueller said, still playing with his new toy.

  “He’s actually telling the truth, remember I went out with Bo last night, and brought back thirty of them with no problems. If Bo was here he’d back me up.”

  “If you want to follow me, Lieutenant, we’ll get your gear squared away on the truck” Sgt Sung headed for the second C-130, Caleb happily followed.

  Chapter 25

  C-130 Somewhere over California. April 14, 2029

  The roar of the engines didn’t affect the four in the back of the aircraft. Johns and Hopkins were reminiscing about their life after separation. Although the pair had never served together, in their small community they had heard of each other. Each had earned advanced degrees in business administration prior to retirement, and instead, had tried to pursue excitement after getting out by becoming EMTs, never quite recapturing service life. Both men, upon the apocalypse, had traveled cross country to Fort Carson, Colorado to rejoin ‘The Originals’ as the 10th Special Forces Group referred to themselves, since they were the first group activated.

  “Hey old guy, you know how long ago the chutes were packed?” Bill Moon asked, trying to work off nervous energy.

  “Beats me. Can I ask a favor of you, Bill?” Johns asked. Moon nodded.

  “If you auger in, can I have that fancy ass watch of yours? My old beat up Timex ain’t half as neat as yours. I bet I probably never would figure out how to use half the crap on it though. What do you say?” Johns asked.

  “I think you can attempt aerial intercourse with a motivated, perforated pastry." Moon replied before he turned back to Noon and ignored the huge outburst of laughter from Johns.

  “What the hell did the kid say? I didn’t get it.” Hopkins asked.

  “He suggested I take a flying fuck at a rolling doughnut.” Johns broke out laughing again, with Hopkins joining in. The Air Force loadmaster walked by the group, holding up five fingers. Everyone stood up and hooked up their static lines before performing a last buddy check. Moon and Noon now stood with a serious look on their faces while watching the loadmasters open the paratrooper doors on each side.

  From where he stood in the open hatch the loadmaster had a visual on the river and took a moment to let Johns stick his head out for a look. Johns brought his head back into the plane, acting on automatic from years past. He uncomfortably noticed his grip on the static line was a death grip. Some things never change, he thought. He redirected all his attention to the little red light next to the door, ignoring the scenery outside. It looked like they were going to over fly the target when he noticed the light was green, he immediately stepped out. The static line instantly pulled the deployment bag. There was no jerk followed by a beautiful canopy above. Crap! The lines are all wrapped, I have a streamer! A fluttering sound was made by the wind blowing through the lines. Johns looked down between his feet he could see the river rushing up towards him. He forced his feet together, knowing the water would be just as bad as the ground, but there was slim hope. Is the water deep enough? “Lord, please…” Everything went black when Roberts hit the water at 100 mph and continued on down. His feet augured into the mud until he was buried to his chest. Above him, the parachute floated serenely on the surface of the water.

  Noon and Moon were looking over the side of the bridge, neither speaking aloud. Hopkins said a quick silent prayer, and then turned to the others. “Let’s clear the road, we have less than two hours.” As one, they ran to the closest car that had swerved into the side of the guard rail. The windows inside were smeared with blood. Noon tried the driver’s door unsuccessfully. He pulled out his entrenching tool and smashed the window, the mother and three children that had turned the first night and died the next morning when the sun rose, were all still strapped in their seat belts. Their two week old corpses were too strong to enter the car at first.

  “We need to smash all the windows for the cars and trucks we’re moving. I doubt we’re going to find any in running condition.” Noon jogged over to the next ca
r and smashed the windows as the others passed by to do the same with the rest of the vehicles. Noon looked around warily, something was wrong. Moon was a hundred feet away, enthusiastically smashing the windows on a limo. Hopkins was out of sight. The old guy’s probably taking a dump in the weeds or behind a tree, Noon figured and jogged over to the next car, unworried. Moon was drinking from his canteen. He was at the last car, after roughly figuring six thousand feet to play it safe. The wind was blowing through the trees that lined the road, making the tall grass sway back and forth. Noon was twenty feet away smashing windows on a semi. That’ll be fun to move, where the hell is Hopkins? Noon wondered when he heard a heavy motor from the other side of the treeline, with the clank of treads. The sound of small trees snapping indicated the vehicle was heading towards him. He ducked behind the car he’d just worked on and looked over at Moon who was also taking cover behind the semi. The sound of crashing trees and engine noises was getting louder, he could see puffs of exhaust rising above the trees. The final trees blocking the view fell as a huge green tractor lumbered out by the roadside. The tires were each larger than a man, and had a huge fishbowl canopy for the driver. He relaxed when he realized it was Hopkins behind the wheel of the giant.