by Dirk Patton
We’d been sitting like that for a couple of hours when Drago spoke up. I’d thought he was asleep, his big frame relaxed in a chair with his long legs stretched out in front of him.
“What was that nonsense I overheard about you turning yourself over to the Russians?”
“It’s a long story,” I said.
“Seems like we’ve got nothing else to do,” Drago said. “Besides, these other two are boring. Chico there can’t talk about anything other than his kids, and TJ… well, TJ talks about video games like they were important or something.”
“Who was the first one of us that knew to shoot them in the head?” TJ said without opening his eyes. “Didn’t get that shit from watching documentaries about Vikings. And are you sure there’s really such a thing? Always thought they were just a crappy football team from Minnesota.”
“Nah, they’re not crappy,” Chico chimed in. “Crappy is the Cowboys. The Vikings are lousy.”
“Suppose you’re a Dolphin’s fan.” I couldn’t resist when football was being discussed.
“Oh, hell no! Forty Niners! All the way!”
“Chico, I may have to shoot you,” I said with a grin.
“Don’t tell me,” he moaned. “Cardinals?”
“Nope. Seahawks.”
That was met with groans from all three men.
“Thank God there’s not a Patriots fan in the room,” Drago said, eliciting chuckles and agreement from all of us.
“If there was, we could feed him to the infected,” I grinned.
We bantered back and forth for a bit, talking football and remembering our favorite players and some of the games that stood out in our memories. Chico killed the mood when he said he had scored tickets for the upcoming Superbowl, his face falling when reality came crashing back in.
“So. ‘Bout those Russians?” Drago prompted after several quiet minutes.
With a sigh I shifted in my chair and started talking. I told them everything. Not just why the Russians wanted me so bad, but everything I’d experienced since the attacks. By the time I was finished, all three were sitting up and hanging on every word.
“Fuck me running, Major, but what the hell? Do you really think if you turn yourself in the goddamn Russkies aren’t still going to make Hawaii glow in the dark?”
Chico shook his head as he talked. TJ and Drago nodded in agreement with him. I just shrugged my shoulders.
“And what about your wife?” TJ asked. “I know you said the Colonel promised to take her to Seattle, but fuck. How can you walk away from her?”
He wasn’t judging me. He was just voicing one of many thoughts I’d already struggled with.
“If I don’t, it’s a certainty that they’ll bomb Hawaii and Nassau. If that happens, well… Anyway. If I do, there’s a chance. I can’t pass on that chance.”
“But what about this?” TJ asked, waving at the racks of servers. “Isn’t this supposed to give us some super weapon to stop them?”
“I honestly don’t know what this is supposed to do,” I said, shaking my head. “Don’t know if it’s offensive or defensive. Don’t even know if it’s going to work in time. But I guess it doesn’t matter. We aren’t getting out of here.”
Everyone fell silent, slowly withdrawing into their own thoughts. Once again, Drago surprised me when he spoke.
“What’s halon?”
“Fire suppressant,” I answered, somewhat familiar with it from working for a tech company in the civilian world. “Why?”
“What does it do?”
“Puts out fires,” I said, not trying to be a smart ass. “It’s used in places where a traditional sprinkler system would cause just as much damage as the fire. Like in here, around sensitive electronics.”
“OK, but how does it work?” Drago persisted.
“I’m not an expert, but it displaces or disrupts the oxygen. Something like that. When the system activates it floods the space and the fire can’t burn, so it goes out.”
“Is it toxic?” He asked.
“Not sure,” I said. “About all I know is you’re not supposed to be in a room when the system goes off, and if you are, you should grab a breather and get the hell out. Got an idea?”
“See that cabinet with the breathers in it?” He asked, pointing.
“Yeah…” I said, turning to look despite knowing exactly what he was talking about.
“Saw several of those scattered throughout the building. Think they’ve got a big ass halon system instead of sprinklers?”
I turned back to look at the breathers, my eyes traveling up to the warning sign.
“I have no idea,” I said.
“Assuming that’s the case, what happens to all those females out there if the building gets flooded with halon? If it kills fires, well, just maybe…”
Drago looked at me and lifted his eyebrow questioningly. I thought about what he was saying for a moment, feeling a small glimmer of hope.
“I have no idea, but I’ll bet someone in Hawaii can tell us,” I said. “But, before we make that call, let’s think about this. Assuming the whole building is covered with halon instead of sprinklers, and assuming it would actually do something to the infected, how do we trigger its release anywhere other than in here? Any fire system is going to be zoned.”
“Automation,” TJ said. All of us turned to look at him. “Building like this, it’s going to be computer controlled. And were sitting inside the brain.”
TJ looked around, standing and moving to twin touch screens embedded in the wall. I’d noted them earlier when I was searching the room, but hadn’t paid any attention. Reaching out, he tapped on first one, then the other, the screens flaring to life. He looked at them for a moment before facing us and grinning.
I moved to stand next to him. Each screen displayed unique halves of the layout of the building with hundreds of red dots scattered throughout the schematic. Controls ran down the right edge and across the top, each was labeled as “Master Fire Control”.
“Right fucking here!” TJ said excitedly, pointing at the two displays. “We can control all of it from right fucking here!”
“Is it all halon?” I asked, trying not to get my hopes up.
“Yep,” he answered. “Look right there.”
I leaned and saw what he was pointing at. It was a legend. Red dots were gas. Blue were water. It must have been a default legend as there wasn’t a single blue dot on the display, and I assumed gas meant halon.
“OK, that’s great,” Chico said. “But don’t get ahead of yourselves. Even if the halon will knock down the infected, and we don’t know it will, what do we do? There’s still about a million of them outside. Won’t they come charging in if the ones in here fall over dead?”
“Probably,” I said. “But there will still be halon filling the building. It takes a while to disperse. We should have enough time to make the roof.”
“Definitely,” TJ said. “There’s another stairwell. Closer to us. We don’t have to go back through the lobby.”
I looked where he pointed at the layout as Chico and Drago stepped close to see. Sure enough, the diagram showed a flight of stairs going to the roof only about a hundred yards from the server room. We should be able to cover that distance, climb the stairs and reach fresh air well before the breathers ran out of oxygen.
“That only leaves the biggest question,” Drago said. “What happens to the infected?”
“Let’s make that call and find out,” I said, picking up the headset that would connect me to Lieutenant Hunt. “While I’m doing that, someone call up our ride and make sure he’s still in the area.”
Drago nodded and stepped away, pressing his earpiece back into his ear as he started calling the Black Hawk that hopefully had refueled and was orbiting the area.
51
“It’s not halon,” the man on the comm circuit said.
I had called Lieutenant Hunt and within minutes he had found a Navy engineer that maintained all of the data center
s at Pearl Harbor. He was an expert, and he was telling me our idea wouldn’t work.
“Halon was banned in the early nineties,” he continued. “Bad for the environment.”
“But the warning sign says halon 1301,” I protested, looking to make sure I was remembering the placard correctly.
“Yep, it’s probably old and they didn’t bother to take it down. What you’ve got is an inert gas suppression system.”
“Say again,” I said, not liking the sound of that. Inert didn’t seem like a term for something that could kill thousands of females.
“You’re actually better off than if it was halon,” he said. “Halon isn’t good for you, but they could survive it. This is inert gas. Most likely it’s a mix of argon and nitrogen. When the system is activated, it will flood the building and drop the oxygen content to nearly zero. Fire can’t burn without oxygen.”
“They’ll suffocate?” I asked, starting to get the picture.
“Exactly. And fast, too. It’s called Inert Gas Asphyxiation. The body breathes in as normal, but there’s no oxygen coming in. Two, maybe three breaths and a person is unconscious. After that, death comes pretty quick. You want to be sure you either have the breathers already on when you activate the system, or hold your breath until you put one on.
“You can survive several minutes on the oxygen in your lungs as long as you don’t exhale and breathe in the inert gas. We train and drill on this all the time. Anyone who works in an area with an inert gas suppression system will know how to react when the alarm sounds.”
“OK, so what else should I know?” I asked, feeling real hope that we’d get out of here.
“Nothing I haven’t told you. DO NOT breathe in room air once the system is activated. And if your breather runs out and you have to put on a new one, hold your breath while changing. If someone does breathe in and goes down, get a mask on them as fast as you can.”
I thanked the man and turned to fill in the team on what I’d just heard. They were as excited as I was, smiles breaking out all around when they heard how fast the females would go down. Drago, not surprisingly, was a little skeptical.
“We’re sure the infected can’t survive this?”
“They’re still human,” I said. “They still have to breathe air. I’ve seen them drown, so they need oxygen just like us.”
He nodded, his smile a little bigger when I finished speaking.
“Is Sam one-niner on station?” I asked, stepping to the breather cabinet and gathering up all the masks.
“He’s orbiting the area. Waiting,” Drago said.
I slipped my night vision goggles on and looked down at the IR strobe that was still attached to my arm. It was flashing away. Passing the breathers around, I handed one spare to Drago and the other to Chico. TJ and I would grab extras when we exited the server room.
Only one thing left to do. Pressing a button on the headset, I waited for Lieutenant Hunt to answer.
“We’re ready to bug out,” I said when he picked up. “The power’s on and the servers are running. Does Jessica need anything else from our end before we leave? Once we’re out, we aren’t getting back in.”
“Stand by,” he said, putting me on mute.
I looked around as the team moved into position, ready to go. TJ stood by the fire control panels, waiting for the order to activate the system and flood the building with gas. Chico was waiting to hit the button that would release the door’s electromagnetic lock so we could exit.
“She says you’re good to go and we wish you luck,” Hunt said a few seconds later.
I thanked him and broke the connection. Removing the headset, I stuffed it in my pack. Pulling my night vision goggles off, I put them in as well, then took a deep breath and pulled the breathing mask on. It covered my face from hairline, if I had a hairline, to below my chin. A rubber gasket sealed against my skin as I tugged the straps tight around the back of my head.
Glancing around, I looked at each of the other men, making sure their masks were in place and snug. Other than the black rubber gasket, the masks were made of clear, flexible plastic which slightly distorted my vision. But only slightly.
“Oh-two on,” I called out, twisting the valve on my mask’s oxygen cylinder.
I could immediately smell and taste the slightly metallic air as it began flowing. Satisfied everyone was ready, I met TJ’s eyes and nodded. He pressed several different spots on the touch screen panels, then stepped back and looked expectantly at the controls.
After a beat he looked over his shoulder at me and shrugged his shoulders. The clock in my head was ticking and I was about to tell him to try it again when a strident alarm began blaring so loud we all jumped. Two white strobes mounted high on the walls began flashing and a pleasant female voice came from speakers mounted in the ceiling.
“Fire suppression system has been activated. Do not breathe in. Put on oxygen masks immediately and evacuate to your designated rally point. Do not breathe room air.”
The prerecorded message continued playing, looping, loud enough to be understood over the raucous fire alarm. TJ dashed over to form up with us and I checked my watch. We had five minutes of breathable air, and only had to cover a hundred yards then climb a flight of stairs. More than enough time, so I held us back, waiting a full minute. I wanted to make damn sure the females were down and out before we opened that door.
When the time had passed, I slapped Chico on the shoulder with the “go” signal. He pressed the green, exit button and the magnets holding the doors closed released with loud thunks. Chico and Drago pushed, but they didn’t budge. What the hell?
Chico pressed the button again, but they were already unlocked. With a feeling of dread, I shouted for everyone to push as I rushed forward. TJ came with me and working together, the four of us were able to move the doors until a two-foot gap appeared between them.
Looking through I could see a chest deep mass of dead females. They had been packed in so tightly that when they died their bodies had only been able to slump. And all that mass was blocking the doors.
“Holy shit,” Drago breathed when he got a look.
“Move,” I shouted, grabbing TJ and shoving him at the opening.
He was by far the thinnest of the four of us, slipping through easily after shrugging out of his pack. Scrambling up as he cleared the gap, he climbed on top of the carpet of corpses, grabbing one of the doors and trying to force it open a few more inches.
Chico was next. Tossing his pack through first, he wedged himself into the gap and with the three of us helping, squeezed through with a minimal amount of cursing.
Drago and I looked at each other for a beat. As thick as my chest was and as broad as my shoulders were, he was bigger.
“I’ll push while they pull,” I said, shoving him forward.
His pack went through first and he ripped his vest off over his head and tossed it through before turning sideways and jamming his huge frame into the void. Chico had his arms, pulling as I pushed with everything I had. TJ pulled on the door, struggling to get solid footing on the shifting bodies beneath him.
With screams of effort, we finally got Drago through. He might have left some skin behind, but he wasn’t complaining. I glanced at my watch as I took my pack and vest off. Three and half minutes gone. And we were using up oxygen fast with all the exertion.
“TJ. Find more breathers. We’re going to run out,” I shouted over the radio.
As I stuck my head through the gap between the doors, I noticed the air I was breathing was getting stale. Pushing with my legs, I shoved my shoulders through, but that’s as far as I got before the sharp door edges dug into the top of my chest and my shoulder blades. I pushed, legs churning, but couldn’t get good traction on the slick tile floor in the server room.
The air was getting worse, the humidity inside the mask shooting up and creating a damp fog on the inside of the plastic. I was gasping now, my body struggling to extract every last molecule of oxygen from the
foul air. Chico and Drago each grabbed under my shoulders, linking their hands together in my armpits. They started to pull, but a voice shouted at them to wait.
“Hold your breath!”
I couldn’t see who was speaking through the fogged lens, but recognized TJ’s voice. Fingers were loosening the straps that held the mask tight to my face then it was gone. Cool air flowed across my skin and it took all my effort to not let myself draw a deep, refreshing breath.
Without the mask I was able to see, watching as TJ slapped a new breather in place and wincing when he yanked the straps tight. He twisted the valve on the fresh O2 cylinder and leaned in, his mask inches from mine.
“You good?” He shouted.
I exhaled, then gulped in fresh oxygen. Immediately my head cleared and I nodded. Drago and Chico were changing their masks, and a moment later they grabbed me again and began pulling. My damaged shoulder screamed a constant complaint, but was the least of my concerns.
They pulled, grunting with the effort and I began moving. The doors pinched, hard, and I wasn’t sure I didn’t leave both nipples behind when I passed through. A few seconds later my chest was clear and they pulled me free with no resistance. Getting to my feet, I pulled on my vest and pack and nearly fell over when the bodies beneath me shifted.
Difficult doesn’t begin to describe what it was like walking on corpses that are upright and jammed in like cordwood. I quickly learned that if you stepped on a head, it would shift right out from under your foot as soon as your weight came down.
Shoulders were the ticket. Pick your footing, and make sure you stepped on shoulders only. It still wasn’t easy as the body would shift until the ones around it kept it from moving. There were all different heights of females. So every step had to be planned before it was taken. It was slow going, and it was creepy as hell.
I have a good imagination, often to my own detriment. As we picked our way across the tops of the corpses, I kept picturing all of them suddenly reanimating. Hands would reach up, grabbing legs, and pull me down until I disappeared beneath the sea of death I was walking on.
Caught up in the waking nightmare, I missed a step and my foot sank into a void between two bodies. I went down to my hip, cursing and twisting my body just in time to prevent my other leg from being injured. Drago bent and grabbed the back of my vest, helping me to climb back up.
