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

by Nelson, Patrick T.

  “Has he betrayed us?” Young asked, referring to Guirguis.

  “I’m not sure it matters. Look how diminished her forces are. We don’t need his help. Send out a messenger.”

  Sara’s men had stopped about a mile from the larger army. They could feel the hungry eyes of the zombies staring them down. Many of the men in Sara’s army were equally hungry.

  “What’s this, Guirguis?” Sara asked, apparently unperturbed. He couldn’t tell if she were genuinely unconcerned or a just good faker.

  “Ma’am, I can assure you I have things under control.”

  “How is this under control?”

  “I know what they want.”

  “And what, Guirguis, do they want?”

  “You, Sara.”

  She didn’t respond, just tilted her head as she stared the small man down.

  “Beck and Young are so bent on revenge that they are grossly miscalculating their advantage.”

  “Is that so? Because it appears to me that they do, in fact, have the advantage,” Sara said.

  “Yes, it is true. Your army has been humbled in its journey down south.”

  “You said ‘my’ army. You didn’t say ‘our’ army.”

  Guirguis nodded.

  “Arrest him. Have our men go south. We’ll set up in Pueblo.”

  “I know how you can kill all of them. We can talk when you’re ready,” Guirguis called over his shoulder as armed guards escorted him away.

  “Yes…when I’m ready.”

  Two days later, after they’d made camp in Pueblo, a few hours’ walk south of Colorado Springs, Dalbec, Page and Sara held a private meeting. It was in the inner room of what appeared to be an old school. It was one of the few rooms anywhere with four walls still standing. It blocked out the fierce wind. They were bundled up and a fire crackled in their midst, kicked about by the wind blowing in through the open roof, disturbing the flames.

  “We have little food, and little hope of getting more. We’ve sent raiding parties into the mountains, but the population is sparse up there and the journey far. Desertions are increasing,” Page said, arms folded, shivering. Snow fell and coated the landscape. He had to repeat his last statement as the wind had drowned it out.

  “You’re full of good news,” Sara said.

  “Bad news is the only news I’ve got.”

  “W-w-we can’t take the city. There are too many men,” Dalbec began.

  “We know, Dalbec…” Sara hissed.

  “Let me finish,” Dalbec asserted. “I’ve heard Guirguis out. He has a plan.”

  “He’s a traitor. I don’t believe a word he says.” Sara moved her toes to make sure she could still feel them. It is so cold, she thought. She had to marshal her mind away from the warm beach she’d left behind.

  “What other options do we have? I am still uneasy about reports that Tenochtitlan’s returning armies are hunting us down. Tens of thousands of pissed off southerners could show up any day and we’d be finished,” Page said.

  Sara closed her eyes. “What did Guirguis say?”

  Dalbec looked at Sara, studying her face, seeing if this was just a setup for a snide joke. “He said there is a weapon in Cheyenne Mountain. It was created when it was a military bunker. Its purpose was to kill everyone in Colorado Springs if they tried charging the mountain.”

  “I don’t buy it. Why was this bunker worried about mobs? Their doors must not have been very good, if they’re worried about a mob of angry citizens breaking in.”

  “Oh, they were good. I’m sure of it. Strong enough to keep the outside world out.”

  “I don’t know, Dalbec…” Sara shook her head.

  “Guirguis says he read it in your grandfather’s notes. He also says he can prove it’s true.”

  “How?”

  “He has the page with instructions on how to get in – written in your grandfather’s handwriting.”

  Sara snorted. “All right.”

  “All right?”

  “Bring it here.”

  Dalbec brought the page to Sara. It had been wrapped carefully in a leather sheath and kept on Guirguis’ person at all times. Sara wondered at that. Was he ready to use this ‘weapon’ at the drop of a hat? Maybe he was even more paranoid than Sara thought.

  Guirguis demanded to accompany Dalbec to see Sara. He said he needed to explain a particular of getting inside the mountain.

  “It says the mountain will release a gas over the city, killing everyone?” Sara asked Guirguis, reading the faded writing under the protection of a small tarp.

  “Yes. Underground pipes lead from the complex to the city. They have enormous canisters filled with chemical weapons. On a day with light wind they would kill everyone in the city. Those who didn’t immediately die would perish within a few days, or at least be seriously debilitated.”

  “So all we have to do is get up there and turn this thing on?”

  “Well, it isn’t so simple.”

  “It never is.”

  “This is the other piece of proof I have. There were some extra pages of notes that described who can get in the building.”

  “Who?”

  “Yes, only descendants of the original residents of the complex can get it. Somehow, the building has a way of telling through your blood if you are a descendent of one of the original residents. This ensured that only family had control of the door from the outside. Sara, you are the only person who can get us in the mountain.”

  “No Academy ever lived in that mountain. My blood wouldn’t work.”

  “You’re right, no Academy ever was in that mountain. You can get in, though, because you aren’t an Academy.”

  She glared at him. Page and Dalbec were still.

  “Ma’am, I read it on those pages. Your father, or the man who raised you, knew you had access. That was why he kidnapped you from your mother. But you already knew this.”

  Sara did not allow a single expression to cross her face.

  “I suspected, but there is no way to confirm it,” she said, coolly.

  “There is a way. We go to the mountain and you open the door, deploy the weapon and take back your city. If the door opens, you know who you really are.”

  “The descendant of a half-breed southerner…” Sara said. She chuckled slightly. It was so ironic.

  At sunrise three days later Sara, Dalbec, Page, Guirguis, and 20 men departed the ruins of Pueblo toward Cheyenne Mountain. Josephine was allowed to stay, despite being New Generation. Guirguis hadn’t exactly been forthright with that fact. They took to the foothills in order to avoid detection, and it worked for a while, until raiders spotted them. Sara regretted only bringing 20 men, but she’d listened to Guirguis’ advice. He said it was the best way to reach the mountain without warning either the Fountain or New Generation Cartels.

  “They’re just raiders, we’re not worth the effort,” Page said. He adjusted his rifle strap to a better position as he tried looking through the scope. It was a little foggy from age, but he saw the small figures in the distance. They just sat there, looking back.

  “Keep moving,” Guirguis said. “It’s cold. We still have about thirty miles to go.”

  It was cold, indeed. The sky was a dark gray and large flakes of snow fell. An hour later Page turned around and noticed something.

  “Look, they’ve started a fire,” he pointed to the Raider’s location.

  “Trying to keep warm,” Guirguis replied.

  “Well they’re doing a poor job. It’s almost all smoke.”

  This caused Dalbec to look up and study the smoke. He looked to Sara. Her head was down as she hiked over some rocks, nearly losing her balance. Dalbec rested his hand on the pouch full of red rocks attached to his belt, as if for reassurance. Page extended a hand to help Sara over the rough patch, but she didn’t grab it.

  She stopped to catch her breath. Despite simply being “foothills” this was still Colorado. Foothills in Colorado were the mountains of elsewhere.

&n
bsp; “At least they aren’t out of breath,” she said, her breath visible as she pointed at the twenty men they’d brought along.

  “The best of the best, ma’am,” their leader said.

  “Hickson, right?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Well, don’t wait on account of me. I’ll catch up.”

  “All right, let’s keep at it,” Hickson said to his well-armed men. They carried heavy packs and extra ammunition but it didn’t seem to Sara like it slowed them down.

  That night they hunkered down around their own fire. They had to risk it, as temperatures were down in the twenties. The sentries set up patrols to ensure none of the raiders got any ideas. Sara stared at the fire and thought of her father, or at least the man who’d raised her. She’d heard things as a child that made her wonder what her real story was. “Sara’s different…” “The “mother” is back again, get rid of her…” “Someday Sara might save us all.” If Guirguis was right, it explained a lot.

  That night they heard some shooting from one of the sentries. When he reported in, he described seeing some figures skulking about in the moonlight. At first light, they looked for any sign of them, but there was no blood trail, only footprints.

  “Probably just the raiders coming in for a closer look,” Page said.

  “Next time I won’t miss,” the sentry said.

  Days two and three of the walk through the foothills were without incident. The altitude, or something, was bothering Sara, and her head was constantly pounding. Dalbec insisted she drink more water, which she did, but it didn’t seem to help.

  “How old am I, Dalbec?” she said, feeling weary.

  “How old do you feel?”

  “I feel old. Tired.”

  “Then you will be old and tired.”

  “That doesn’t help.”

  “Doesn’t make it wrong, either.”

  She thought about it. “When did you get a backbone?”

  “When you needed me to have one.”

  She stopped walking, and motioned for him to stop, too. They waited until there was a private moment, with the rear guard not caught up to them yet.

  “Dalbec, you need to forget about me.”

  “W-w-what do you mean?” he throat tightened around the words.

  “I know what you want. It’s never going to happen,” her voice was calm and, surprisingly kind.

  “Don’t flatter yourself!” But he didn’t make eye contact.

  “Fine, be that way.”

  “You need to focus on what we’re about to do,” Dalbec instructed.

  “I’ll focus on what I need to focus on. Just remember, if I’m gone you need to look out for yourself. Don’t alienate the people who’ll lead in my absence,” she said, meaning Page.

  “I’ve done nothing to alienate him!”

  “You haven’t done anything to endear yourself, either. You’re loyal, Dalbec, but you can’t only serve others.”

  “Seems like it’s all I’m good at. Except when I let Obevens go.”

  “Even that, you did for...” she stopped before saying, “me.”

  “Fine then, I’ll stop.” He stomped away along the path.

  Sara wondered whether she would have been better off saying nothing. Why had she even tried helping him? The coast humbled her, showed her she wasn’t invincible.

  “It’ll take more than that to take me down!” She girded herself with these words. She refused to acknowledge she was saying this to herself more and more lately. She could see the dread in Page’s face. If this plan of Guirguis’ didn’t work, they were all done. The whole Academy Cartel, or what was left of it, would have to carve out some corner of the world to live in. How many would desert? Starve? Try to kill Sara?

  On the fourth day the beat-up road leading to Cheyenne mountain was visible a mile in the distance. Guirguis advised against taking the main road and instead steered the group to come at the entrance from the side. Once they reached the opening, they were relieved to find it unguarded.

  “Good, they’re not expecting us,” Guirguis said.

  “We’ll still play it safe, regardless. Any idea of the forces in the bunker?”

  “No one. No one has access except the descendants.”

  They entered the tunnel with torches and crept through the echoing tunnel. Complete silence was required, as any sound bounced off the walls and amplified in the still air. After walking the same length of tunnel the Martyrs had walked, they reached the blast door. Sara walked up and ran her hand along the impenetrable metal door.

  “Amazing…” she whispered.

  A clanking sound came from within the door. It was opening.

  “It recognized who you are,” Guirguis said.

  “Then it’s true. I’m not an Academy…”

  “At least not in blood,” Dalbec said.

  The door continued its slow and screeching slide to open, revealing the bright lights inside. The team rapidly deployed to cover the entrance, ready to unleash a barrage of lead on anything that moved. There was no immediate threat, so Sara walked forward, crossing the threshold into the facility.

  “Hello, Miss Poretti,” a mechanical voice came from the ceiling. Sara stepped back, seeing the red dot of TM-2000 above her. Once she realized what it was, she stood straight again.

  “Is that my real name?” she asked, amused.

  “Yes, Jessica Wilma Poretti,” the robot said.

  “And what are you?”

  “I am the human interface for the ‘Minotaur System,’ and the steward of Cheyenne Mountain Complex. I will brief you on the systems, capabilities, and weaknesses of this underground bunker.” TM paused. “Please verify that you wish to give access to your whole group.”

  “Yes, they should all have access. Please direct us to the weapons system.”

  “Yes, Jessica.”

  TM darted down the hallway and the group cautiously followed. Guirguis stayed near the rear.

  “Is this a part of your plan?” Josephine whispered to Guirguis.

  “Quiet,” he urged.

  They followed TM down a few bright hallways until he stopped and turned his optics systems on Sara. She was flanked by four of the team.

  “This door leads to the weapons system. The Minotaur Systems gas dispersal system is offline. Would you like to activate and ready the system?”

  “Yes.”

  “State your full name for voice authorization.”

  “Jessica Wilma Beretti.”

  “Authorized,” TM responded.

  “Wait,” Hickson, the team lead, interrupted, “that’s not the name that thing told you earlier.”

  TM rotated his optics onto Hickson. The red light shining.

  Hickson pointed his rifle at TM. “Where are you taking us?”

  “Correct. Authorization denied. Hahahaha!” The tinny laugh followed TM as he whirred away down the hall and out of sight. Hickson was readying to shoot the robot, but then the lights went out. Only the glow of the dark floor runners provided illumination. Music kicked on over speakers in the walls. A steady, droning beat that never changed. They felt it vibrate through their bodies.

  “What is that!?” Dalbec yelled.

  “I don’t know!” Page responded.

  The music cut out for a second so TM could respond. “It is the heartbeat of this bunker. It is a living, breathing creature, and you’ve been swallowed up.” The music turned on again as soon as TM was done speaking. A hissing sound came from all around them. Small streams of gas began to leak into the hallway.

  “Run!” Guirguis said, but as he tried to run he tripped face first into a cloud of the gas. He shook for a few seconds and then went completely still. Josephine gawked in horror and then ran after the team.

  “Down this hallway!” Hickson yelled. They were clear of the gas. He saw TM-2000’s red light at the end of the hallway. He threw his rifle up and plugged a few rounds at the small white box.

  “Run, run, fast as you can, you can’t ca
tch me I’m the gingerbread man!” TM said as he zipped around the next corner.

  “We have to take out that thing!” Hickson ordered.

  ◆◆◆

  “What was that? Shooting?” Jamed asked.

  “Oh, yes, we have to go to work,” Linus said. The residents were trying and failing to teach Jamed and Cecil table tennis. The Martyrs still had no idea what these eight people were doing in the mountain, as every time they asked the response was: “That’s classified…”

  “Work?”

  The eight were a blur of action, opening lockers and donning body armor and loading weapons. Within a minute all had bulletproof vests, helmets, knives, numerous grenades, and assault rifles.

  Linus answered the question as he exited the recreation room. “Yes, work. The lady is here.”

  ◆◆◆

  “Ho ho ho, hee hee hee!” TM’s voice used an echo effect that reverberated through the now silent hallways.

  “I want to kill that thing,” Page said through gritted teeth. Sara was crouched next to him, wielding her pistol. Dalbec was with them. The team had gotten separated, they had no idea where the others were.

  “I think Hickson is back and to the left. Can you see that blasted white box?” Page asked.

  “I can hear him,” Dalbec answered.

  “Yes, we can all bloody hear him!”

  “There.” Sara pointed. TM was at the end of the hall. He’d silently moved there, and all they saw was the red dot, as the lights were still dim.

  “I got him.” Page said, a green glow from the floor guides reflecting off his face. He raised his carbine. A bright explosion of light erupted from the end of the hallway, along with rapid gunshots, cutting Page to ribbons. It stopped, but Sara and Dalbec heard the sound of a Gatling gun spinning to a stop.

  “It was self-defense,” TM said.

  “W-w-we’re not going to hurt you!” Dalbec yelled.