100 A.Z. (Book 3): The Mountain

by Nelson, Patrick T.

“Stop!” one of them yelled. They both had their guns trained on Sal and Ellie.

  “Time to hand you over.”

  Chapter 4

  ENRIQUE,

  I KEEP EMAILING, HOPING YOU ARE STILL THERE. MAYBE YOU ARE STILL ALIVE, BUT CAN’T GET MY MESSAGES. MAYBE I SHOULD STOP TRYING. I MISS YOU SO MUCH. I CAN’T SEE HOW THIS IS ANYTHING BUT THE END OF THE WORLD. WE’VE BEEN PENNED UP IN THIS MOUNTAIN FOR FIVE YEARS. I FEEL LIKE I’M GOING CRAZY. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH, BUT I KNOW I’LL PROBABLY NEVER SEE YOU AGAIN. I KNOW I SHOULD STOP EMAILING, BUT I CAN’T. PLEASE RESPOND IF YOU GET THESE.

  I JUST LEARNED WE’VE HAD AN ANTIDOTE TO THE VIRUS ALL ALONG. I THINK IT SOUNDS TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE. IF IT IS TRUE, I WILL TRY AND GET IT TO YOU.

  I HOPE YOU’RE STILL ALIVE. OUR SON NEEDS YOU.

  LOVE,

  JANICE

  P.S. YOU SAID I WOULD REGRET MEETING YOU. I DON’T.

  Unauthorized Email from Cheyenne Mountain to the Mexican Navy Intelligence Unit - 5 A.Z.

  Obevens held onto his overturned canoe as the enemy patrol boat approached them. The moonlight shimmered on the lake. He could see two Academy men in the boat, one rowing and the other training a rifle on Obevens. The oarsman who had been guiding Obevens to safety was wading next to him.

  “Yep, it’s him,” one of the patrols said about Obevens.

  The boat was nearing. Obevens gripped the overturned boat with all the strength in his forearms. The Academy boat glided up next to him.

  “Come on, Captain,” the gunman sneered, motioning for Obevens to get in the boat.

  “Help,” Obevens said, struggling to reach out with one hand toward the man. “I can’t swim.”

  The gunman grimaced and knelt down to grab Obevens’ shaking hand. Obevens gripped the man’s hand and then released the other from the overturned boat. The pull of the zombies holding onto his ankles pulled Obevens and, in turn, the gunman overboard and underwater. Obevens kicked off the groping hands beneath him and broke the surface of the water to pull himself into the boat. As he was standing up the oarsman drew a knife and was about to stab him when the gunman came up gasping on the other side of the boat, startling the oarsman. This gave Obevens time to kick him in the knee and deliver an elbow to his mouth, sending him overboard.

  Obevens kept the two men from climbing into the boat while his oarsman expertly slid into the canoe on the opposite side. He grabbed the paddles and swiftly rowed them away from the two men, who were swimming as fast as they could to the overturned boat. By the time they righted it and climbed aboard, Obevens was long gone.

  ◆◆◆

  Obevens and the oarsmen reached shore an hour later. The oarsman landed the boat on a sandy beach and whistled softly into the night air. No whistle came back. After pausing to think for a minute, he motioned Obevens to get out of the boat and start walking. He pointed into the night for direction. Obevens obeyed. The oarsman quietly slid his new boat back into the water and disappeared into the mist. Obevens watched as the boat slipped away into the darkness. He sighed.

  Obevens continued walking in the direction the man had pointed, but soon he was approaching a steep climb. He had no idea where he was going. He kept whistling, in the hopes in would produce a response. He guessed that someone was supposed to meet them but was late, detained or wasn’t going to show.

  A strong wind passed over him, carrying the scent of smoke. It smelled far away. Obevens sat down. He was feeling to urge to strike off in a direction, any direction. A younger Obevens might have. He needed to strategize about his next move, though.

  North. He needed to go north. He had no weapons, supplies, or maps. But what other choice did he have? As he stood and cleared his throat from the smoke he heard a whistle. He froze and gave a response. Footsteps approached. Several figures appeared from the trees next to Obevens.

  “That’s not John,” a deep voice said. The speaker approached Obevens. It was a tall, very strong, very angry looking man. “Who are you!?”

  “Obevens, who are you?”

  Tock grabbed Obevens, picked him up and slammed him on his back on the ground.

  Obevens coughed, trying to catch his breath as Tock held him pinned on the ground. “I asked you a question!” Tock reached back to punch him but before he could Obevens grabbed his wrist and cinched his legs around Tock’s arm. He quickly applied leverage on the big man’s elbow. Tock cried out and then stood up with Obevens hanging off him. Tock slammed Obevens back on the ground but the Captain maintained his hold.

  “I’m not…your enemy!” Obevens growled as he kept the pressure on Tock’s elbow. Tock fell onto his back, unable to free his arm. He knew Obevens could break it if he wanted.

  “Grrrrah! Fine! I’m listening,” Tock grimaced.

  “Let him go,” Carla said. She was standing next to Lee and a couple of the Brothers of Tlaxcala who’d accidentally helped with Obevens’ escape. They’d thought they were meeting John.

  “Are you a soldier from the north?” Carla asked as Obevens released his grip and the two men stood up, dusting themselves off. Tock gave a look showing he would have clearly preferred to finish the fight, but was deferring to Carla.

  “Yes, and no. I came here with Sara, but as a prisoner.”

  “Sara?” Lee asked.

  “She’s the new ‘Queen’.”

  “A prisoner, eh? I doubt that,” Tock said, rubbing his arm.

  Obevens briefly explained how he’d been a part of an envoy to Colorado Springs and all that had happened since.

  “John’s from Colorado Springs,” Lee said, hopeful.

  “Is he the guy Sara executed?” Obevens asked.

  “That ‘guy’ isn’t dead. We got him out of the…grave…but then got separated. We were supposed to meet him here. You came instead,” Carla explained.

  “Sorry to disappoint,” Obevens said. “Listen, I don’t know where he is, but...”

  “Maybe you gave him back to her! Maybe you killed him! Why should we believe anything you’re saying?” Tock said, pointing at Obevens.

  “I need to get north. Someone I care about is in danger,” Obevens paused as he considered the words that came out of his mouth. It was the first time he’d said that about Ellie. “Sara…the Queen…sent assassins after her. I have to stop them.”

  “You aren’t going anywhere until we find out if you’re lying,” Tock threatened.

  “I can’t prove anything. You’ll just have to believe me.” Obevens faced off against Tock.

  Another person in moonlight interrupted their conversation. He’d been standing back, listening.

  “We don’t need to figure it out now. We’ll bring him north with us.”

  It was a large, older man. Hog.

  “We need to wait for John,” Tock said.

  Hog cleared his throat with squinted eyes. “Team, there are some things I haven’t told you yet. We needed to get John out of there either way…but he’s not coming. Besides, he’s on his own, now. We can’t be with him,” Hog said.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Lee bristled.

  “Being around him means being around death,” Hog replied. They all were silent. “We’ll bring this man with us. If we want to help John, we must go north. If we determine this man is telling the truth we’ll let him go.”

  “And if he’s lying?” Tock spat out.

  “Do whatever you want to him. We may need him, though. We’re going to a place he knows well, Colorado Springs,” Hog said.

  “I’m not going back there,” Obevens said.

  “If you are telling the truth, we’ll let you go before we get there. I’m not in the habit of detaining men who need to help their loved ones,” Hog said. “I give my word.”

  Not many men gave their word anymore, Obevens thought. Despite the big guy he’d tangled with, this group seemed better than Sara’s lot. Obevens nodded.

  “I don’t think north is the place to go. The fight is here,” Lee said.

  “Fight? What fight? This is
n’t a fight, Lee, this is war. In war…you need the best weapons. We’re going to get the best one. Or at least make sure she doesn’t get it,” Hog said referring to Sara. “The cat is out of the bag, with John. Soon, other people will take interest. Then they will begin looking for the remaining three.”

  “Three what? Dude, what are you talking about?!” Tock said, annoyed.

  “An antidote to the virus. A way to kill zombies en masse.”

  “What’s that got to do with John?” Lee asked.

  “He’s been given the largest dose of antidote to date. He can…” Hog cleared his throat, hesitant to say the next part, “…control the undead.”

  Tock was about to argue, but remembered the sound he’d heard from John when they’d pulled him out of that grave.

  “How you know all this? What makes you so sure?” Tock said.

  “I know. My parents told me about it when I was a kid – made sure I believed it. They were somehow connected to it, and could recite messages sent during the time of the original outbreak describing the antidote. It’s still out there. Between that and what I’ve learned of the necromancers, I trust.”

  “Sounds c-r-a-z-y, old man.”

  “Hog, even if this is true, what does it mean for us?” Lee asked.

  “We’re going to where the remaining antidotes are,” Hog said.

  “Colorado Springs?” Carla asked.

  “Yep. Cheyenne Mountain.”

  Chapter 5

  CHEYENNE MOUNTAIN: WE HAVE AN ANTIDOTE, THERE IS NO NEED TO KILL YOUR PEOPLE!

  CANADIAN RESPONSE: YOUR ANTIDOTE IS FAR AWAY FROM US. YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND OUR SITUATION.

  Cables between Cheyenne Mountain to Canadian Forces Base Winnipeg - 5 A.Z.

  Zona Rosa Neighborhood, Tenochtitlan

  “Hello,” the silky Spanish voice cut through the dark night. It was deep, female, and alluring. The source was standing in a doorway on the edge of a thoroughfare. It was late and few souls were out and about.

  “Me?” the tall young Mexican man blushed, looking around at the empty street.

  “You see anyone else out here?” she replied, teasing.

  “I guess not.”

  “Come here, I want to show you something,” she offered.

  “No, I…um, I need to get going. I’m bringing home dinner.” He motioned to a sack he was carrying.

  “It can wait. I need something right now.”

  “Huh?”

  “Don’t be dense. Follow me,” she motioned from the doorway.

  “Uh, okay, just for a minute,” he chuckled. This was his lucky night. Man, I love this city, he thought.

  “Careful on the stairs, wouldn’t want you to get hurt. Would you like a drink?” She pointed to a red door at the end of the long hall and smiled. There were a dozen candles on the wall and he got his first good look at her. Deep brown eyes, long brown hair with henna highlights. Her beauty matched her voice. He smirked and walked to the door.

  “Let me take that,” she said, motioning to the sack of food he carried. “You’re going to need your hands free. Oh, and no weapons, right?” she asked. He shook his head earnestly.

  She opened the door for him. He stepped into a dark room lit by a single candle. He squinted to see, his eyes adjusting slowly to the change in light from the hallway. He turned to gaze upon his feast for the evening but she quickly slammed the door shut behind him.

  “What?!” he reached for the door, but it was too late. He grabbed for a handle, but there was none. “Hey! Let me out of here!”

  Flooded Skyscraper, outside the walls of Tenochtitlan

  “I don’t think they’re after loyalty. They only want to subjugate us,” the one man furtively said to the other in Spanish. He hadn’t bathed in weeks, and had a slight tremble in his voice. His eyes were tired. It had been a long night. He was sure they were being watched. He was only thirty, but the years had been long and hard. The new Queen had ensured that recent times were even harder on him. The other man, slightly younger but much less beleaguered, looked back at his colleague and nodded sympathetically. They were on the tenth floor of a safe house for the rebellion. It was a rundown building out in the flooded area of Tenochtitlan. Staying out in the skyscrapers with the rest of the impoverished of Tenochtitlan brought a certain degree of anonymity and protection. The droves of poor living in them were too much for the Queen’s security forces to search. There were a hundred and fifty-four men and women holed up in this particular building, awaiting the pre-dawn to conduct more operations against the Queen’s men.

  “I think it looks like that, but eventually the Queen will need our loyalty. She can’t fight us forever. If she destroys us, there is nothing for her to rule,” the younger responded reasonably.

  “She doesn’t need us, she only needs this city. The city is the prize here, not the people. What can we offer her? Our fine cuisine? Our cultural heritage? Ha! She only wants the city and will expel us from here and then bring northern trash in. She already signaled her desire for us to leave by turning people. Why forcibly turn us into zombies if she wasn’t interested in making us leave? Does she think anyone would willingly stay under such conditions?” the older man said. He looked in the room around him, as though suddenly there might be a threat.

  “People aren’t leaving, though. I hear more are coming to Tenochtitlan than are leaving.”

  “What, do they think there is hope in the rebellion? Do they think we will win? Take us for example – not wholly committed, not in agreement as to the right course of action. Are we the best this rebellion has to offer! Ha!” The gruffer of the two said as he tended the small fire that was heating their evening meal of beans. There was ample supply of wood scraps collected in the building for firewood and for building partitioned cubbies for sleeping and living quarters. The stairs had been painstakingly sledgehammered away and replaced with wooden ladders, as a security measure. When under attack they could pull the ladders and be safe in the upper stories.

  “I don’t know what they think. I imagine it is safer here than out there, with that herd running around,” the younger scratched his head aggressively. Lice had been a problem lately.

  “I think they are better off running from the herd. This is a deathtrap.”

  “Then why don’t you leave? Try your luck out there? Go to the mountains.”

  “This is my city, not hers. OUR city. We will make her see that, or die try…”

  “Or die trying, I know, I know. I am equally committed – I just think we are going about it all wrong,” the younger assured. “We need to convince her that it is in her best interest to come alongside the people and work together. We know this city and the threats from outside. We’ve seen a lot that can benefit her program. She would be a fool to ignore that wisdom and experience. She may be cruel, but she isn’t a fool. I think she realizes she’ll have to work with the people. Or she’ll lose.”

  “So, then why’d you firebomb her soldiers the other day if you want to join her ranks? I don’t think they’ll take too kindly to having a person like that as a partner,” the older asked.

  “It is the only way to show them they aren’t in control. That will drive them to the negotiating table.”

  “I’ll never sit at that table.”

  “Someone will have to, though.”

  “You’re burning the beans.”

  “No, they’re still cold.”

  “I can smell them, they’re burning.”

  “That’s not beans.”

  The men leaped to their feet. Just then, shouts began echoing up from below. It was true, the beans were cold. Smoke was coming up through the holes in the floor and the stairwell.

  Central Baths, Tenochtitlan

  The private steam room, a theocrat’s perk that had survived the overthrow by the Queen, was empty and dry. Two old priests in full robes sat close together and spoke in hushed tones. “This queen is no ruler of the undead. She may control them, but only through coercion and manipulati
on. She understands their base needs, and uses it against them. Putting lures out, dangling chickens, and other such crass measures,” the first murmured bitterly.

  “Mmm,” the other responded thoughtfully.

  “I had hoped for so much. I thought with this queen we were entering a new age of faith and protection. I thought my grandchildren would be raised in the traditional reverence of the undead. Instead, she is a self-interested charlatan. I am ashamed to have supported her. Now there is no hope at all.”

  “Hope has many forms, brother.”

  “Show me, because I see none. I only see how we’ve failed our people. We’ve allowed this woman to slowly pillage us. It’s our fault, you know. The spiritual lives of our people were entrusted to us, but when what she was became clear, we were slow to react. ‘At least we have a place at the table,’ we said; ‘We can influence her gently,’ we said. Fools! We were fools. Just trying to hold on to our power and privilege. If we had advised the king in the true sense of the word, told him the truth, we wouldn’t be here. Instead, we indulged him and lied to justify his unenlightened actions! He couldn’t control the undead, everyone knew it. To admit it meant death. To admit it meant we had no control over the undead, either! But we loved the prestige, the respect, the private baths…but look at them now – dry.” He gave a caustic laugh as he gestured to their surroundings. “Fools.”

  The second man put his hand on his compatriot’s shoulder. “I understand your pain.”

  “It is all of our pain, now. There is no turning back. We must support the rebels. Join the Brothers. Whatever it takes to expel this woman.”

  “I am glad to hear where you stand.”

  “Then you agree! Oh, I am thankful, brother. It required courage to tell you my thoughts.”

  Lake Texcoco

  The night mist concealed the solitary figure and his raft as he slowly made his way across the stinking expanse of Lake Texcoco. His body was old, and hunched from years of reading ancient texts. He dug around in the bag hanging over his shoulder. He withdrew the items he was looking for. Small red rocks, about thirty of them. He cursed under his breath and was about to throw them overboard. He paused and looked at them. These rocks had once brought him power, respect, and fear. Now they were useless. His confidence was gone, along with his belief in the ability to control the undead. The bearded foreigner had taken all this away when he became the most powerful necromancer. The herd would never listen to anyone less.