Day of Darkness

by LC Champlin

  “Oh, they didn’t like that!” Stacy pointed to a pack of Dalits that scrambled away from the fire, tongues of flame on their clothing. They loped toward the boat ramp. When they reached the end of it, they launching into the water, trailing smoke. Once in the channel, they grouped together, repeating the ant-raft maneuver.

  Amanda hugged herself, face anemic. “Maybe they won’t come over here.”

  The lead Apache’s chain gun rattled, felling cannibals by the score. Hellfire missiles streaked from another chopper. They detonated at the bottom of an apartment, destroying not only the cannibals, but also the foundation. The structure crumbled, taking the four survivors on the roof with it.

  The south-shore group watched, unable to look away.

  At least they’re not attacking the research building, the voice of pure pragmatism whispered in Nathan’s ear. He winced and rubbed his shoulder against his ear as if he could kill the idea like crushing a mosquito.

  “Wong and her people have a lot to answer for,” he announced. “This is their fault.” If Eduardo had not caused such confusion, circumstances would have gone differently. Perhaps Albin would not have turned against Nathan.

  Albin. If he hadn’t corrupted the north-shore residents, they could have avoided this catastrophe. Instead, they forced Nathan’s hand. Albin would suffer for this. If his previous treason hadn’t already earned him the death penalty, this certainly did.

  The destruction continued until the last cannibals fell. Then the aircraft retreated northward, rotor whir fading.

  The raft of cannibals floated back to the northern shore and climbed out. They paused, looking about at the soup of mangled bodies, blood, and black oil. Fires burned, sending up the stench of seared flesh.

  Nausea gripped Nathan’s stomach, choking off his breath. “Excuse me.” He made for the corner of the nearest house. No sooner had he turned it than the contents of his stomach—mainly water since he had little appetite of late—roared up. He retched until the pain in his sides brought unconsciousness’s dark wings fluttering.

  Stop. Breathe. Shoulder against the wall, he inhaled. One, two, three, four. The stomach acid filled the back of his mouth with its bitter tang, but the nausea had left with the vomiting. Coughing, he pushed away from the wall.

  “This is the end.”

  His radio crackled. “Nathan, Amanda, come in!” One of the guards. “We’ve got black Humvees and a big armored vehicle.” Mine resistant ambush protected truck, or a Stryker?

  “What are they doing?”

  “They’re coming down Redwood Shores Parkway toward us.”

  Nathan swallowed, throat burning. “Don’t get in front of them. Give them right of way.”

  “I wasn’t going to go make a Tiananmen Square of it.”

  What the hell did the government want now? Wasn’t the destruction of Northern Redwood Shores enough? Now they had to come here?

  Nathan stalked back around the corner, using the wall for support. He almost crashed into Amanda and Josephine, who jogged toward him.

  “I heard,” he grated. Did the government suspect him of working with Sarge? Perhaps they’d sent Sarge as a trap. Maybe they even knew Nathan had used the frequency generator. Nonsense! The government couldn’t find its ass with both hands and a mirror on a good day, much less in the middle of a disaster.

  “Let’s greet our guests. I wouldn’t want to be a rude host.”

  Chapter 64

  Reap the Whirlwind

  Seven Nation Army - The White Stripes

  Nathan motioned for Amanda and Josephine to hang back as they approached the roadblock at Marlin. “If anyone gets gunned down, it should be me, since I’m the one who didn’t guard the frequency generator well enough. Besides, if they kill me, you two will be able to lead.” It sounded good, but in reality, the government might recognize him, which could prove an advantage. Hopefully.

  The vehicles rolled to a halt past the roadblock. “Keep your hands where we can see them,” the Stryker APC’s bullhorn ordered.

  Nathan raised his hands. “Are you coming to bring supplies? We need food and water.” By reflex his heart rate jumped. Standing in front of a nine-foot-tall armored vehicle whose occupants would enjoy using his body for target practice tended to stimulate the sympathetic nervous system. The “Ma Deuce” .50 cal mounted atop the vehicle in a Protector remote weapon station did nothing to calm him, considering it pointed at his chest.

  “By the authority of the United States Department of Homeland Security, you are strongly advised to evacuate the area. Proceed to the nearest emergency shelters. This area is not safe. Containment crews are unavailable at this time.” They had probably turned into cannibals early in the epidemic.

  Since no words except duly noted came to mind, Nathan held his tongue and his position.

  The Caterpillar engine roared as the hulking monster reversed on its eight wheels. The driver executed a three-point turn, then proceeded back toward Redwood Shores Parkway.

  “What do we do?” Amanda asked, jogging to Nathan’s side. “Do we evacuate?”

  “They dealt with the cannibals; I see no reason to leave our secure area in favor of refugee camps.”

  “No containment crews?” Josephine asked as she joined them. “Does that mean we’re on our own?”

  “When have we not been on our own?” Lip curled, Nathan shook his head. “All our tax dollars and this is what we they send?”

  Smoke from the fires across the channel scented the air with burned meat. Never let a crisis go to waste. But how did one use a crisis that involved the destruction of their neighbors?

  Simple.

  Schooling his features, he faced the scene of devastation. “We need to help them. If there are any people left to help, that is.”

  “Even after what they did?” Josephine asked, arms crossed. The statement didn’t seem to reflect her opinion so much as it clarified his motives.

  “Certainly. Get a team together of whoever is willing and able. But we still need to keep a defense here.” When the frequency broadcast stopped, the cannibals in the area who had answered it would likely resume their previous activity: hunting. “Also, have Stacy or one of the researchers get the CCTV footage from the self-storage unit.” In the day, the portable security camera—running off solar and battery—filmed the Dalits’ behavior. At night, Nathan had the R&D team bring it inside the office, covering inside and outside the building. Hence his choice to keep the frequency-generator box there. “We need to see who took the device.”

  “All right.” After a nod, Amanda trotted toward her vehicle.

  “Josephine.” Nathan put a hand on her shoulder. “Go help her, please. I’m going across to the north shore. I’ll radio if there’s any danger. I’m the best choice for scout, since I’m more experienced than the residents. And . . . I feel responsible for this.”

  Determination lined her face. “I’ll go too.”

  Why did she always have to argue? “No. I have some new allies who will help me.”

  “You mean Sarge? Are you sure about—”

  The rest faded as he headed toward the Sierra. He climbed into the cab, pulling out his HT as he closed the door. “Sarge, do you copy?”

  “What the fuck, Serebus? Why’s the military all over the place? And what in the fuck did that idiot north shore do? I’ve never seen so many cannibals except in downtown.”

  “I’ll explain later. Right now, we have some friends to make. This is a bonus mission.”

  “With bonus pay, remember.”

  “Of course. Meet me at the bridge by Minstral.”

  “Roger. Sarge out.”

  With a half smile in place, Nathan stepped on the accelerator. “The time to buy is when there’s blood in the streets.”

  ++++++++++++

  Nathan pulled into the parking lot of the Minstral Restaurant. Redwood Shores’s flag fluttered at the rear of the Sierra’s cab, proud and defiant. D
rawing on the Eye of Providence design on the dollar bill, its white triangle on a black field represented the change—the new order from chaos—that would come.

  Sarge drove his usual gray Ford F-250 and wore his usual body armor.

  Pulling up beside the mercenary, Nathan nodded in greeting. “The government just told us we should leave. They didn’t offer any explanation or identification. If it works for them, it’ll work for us.”

  Heavy brow wrinkling, Sarge sneered. “Are you saying we pretend to be from the government and tell them we’re here to help? Are you going to order them out and take over their shit? You don’t have the manpower to force them.”

  “I don’t want to order them out. I want to order them in.” Nathan grinned with all the warmth of a shark. “I need allies since Albin destroyed the north-shore idiots”

  “It was you, wasn’t it.” No change in expression from either man. “I don’t know how, but you managed to send the cannibals in.” Sarge threw back his head and laughed. “Fuck, that’s brutal as hell.”

  “I call it a necessity. And just.” It would eliminate Wong and her group once he returned. A shame it had eliminated the north shore too.

  “You’ve got my support. If there’s one thing I know, it’s how to throw military weight around.”

  “I’m going to stop by the disaster area first.”

  “Go ahead. I’m staying out of that shitscape. Unless you want to make it a bonus mission.” Raised brow.

  “No.” Window up.

  As Nathan neared the neighborhood, the smoke grew more intense, as did the stench. He switched to mouth breathing as he forged deeper into the scene of devastation. Shit, now he had to taste the soot. Pulling his T-shirt up over his nose, he slowed the vehicle. A tornado might have touched down, for the level of destruction around him: decimated houses, trees torn in half, craters in the road and yards. Charred bodies lay in heaps and scattered about the neighborhood like trash after a sanitation workers’ strike. But at least no cannibals charged his truck.

  He turned down Shorebird Circle, but a collapsed building blocked the way. Radio up. “Josephine, Amanda, I don’t see any cannibals. I don’t see any life at all. There’s a significant amount of contamination from the cannibals’ fluids, though. If you come, wear full protective gear.”

  “We will.” Amanda responded.

  Unsurprisingly, Jo added, “I at least have to go check the damage.”

  “Very well.” He shifted into reverse as he spoke. Just as he turned to look over his shoulder, several chunks of debris shifted at the edge of a pile. Human or cannibal?

  “Stacy watched the security footage,” the reporter continued. “She says it was one of Mrs. Wong’s people: the woman who didn’t want us to ally with the north shore, and who mocked the researchers.”

  “I’m not surprised. Bring the footage when I meet you.”

  “Got it.”

  “Nathan out.”

  After parking, he slid from the vehicle, Glock ready. Outside the cage of glass and steel, the stench gripped him like a hand. Claustrophobic panic rose. Contagious blood and biological matter all around, plus debris that could hide cannibals—Get out, get out!

  “Not yet.” One, two three—He advanced on the rubble. A lawn chair lay atop a shrub. With his Nike toe, he nudged the bush at the edge of the destruction, pistol on the potential threat. The foliage fell aside to review a pale, bloody face. Trigger finger tightened—Wait. Not a cannibal. Through the gore, the features stood out. Mason. He attempted to form words.

  Red-gold eyes glowed in the back of Nathan’s mind.

  “Tell . . . them.” Blood bubbled from the victim’s lips. His eyes turned to glass as his body convulsed.

  “You shouldn’t have left me,” Nathan murmured. “You brought this on yourselves.”

  Back to the vehicle, avoiding puddles of body fluids. Here and there an arm or leg, which the explosion had ripped from its body, lay in the road like a Halloween decoration left over from Universal’s Horror Nights.

  Bile rising, he swung into the cab and slammed the door. Breathe. One, two, three—Saliva welled in his mouth, forcing rapid swallowing to prevent it from drooling.

  Get out!

  “Gladly.”

  Chapter 65

  Rod and Staff

  The End’s Not Near - Band of Horses

  Nathan slowed the Sierra at the intersection of Clipper Drive and Concourse Plaza. The neighborhood at the southern point of Foster City rose around him, the multimillion-dollar homes of Silicon Valley’s best and brightest. Behind him sprawled the Volkswagen Lab. To his right towered the Pullman San Francisco. Oracle’s buildings lay beyond it across the Belmont Slough, gleaming in the morning sun.

  Soon it would all look to him for leadership. He bared his teeth in a grin. Someone had to shepherd them, so why not him? They needed a strong hand to keep them safe.

  He pulled up beside Sarge’s F-250. “Spread out; cover as much area as you can.” Foster City occupied an area three times larger than Redwood Shores.

  “Don’t fucking tell me what to do,” Sarge snapped. “My guys know.”

  “Good.” As long as Sarge did his job, his attitude would receive a pass.

  They headed north on Clipper to Treasure Island Drive, then onto Farallon Drive. A bike trail—wide enough to support a vehicle—carried the six trucks beside the water to the roundabout at Baffin Street.

  Thanks to the bullhorn Sarge carried in his vehicle, the convoy could easily gain the Foster City residents’ attention. The trucks turned left—west—along Edgewater Boulevard, then veered north.

  “By order of the United States government,” Sarge announced as they rumbled up the street, “you are hereby ordered to remain in your houses. There are no response teams available. A representative has been established in Redwood Shores. You will contact them if you need assistance. The local emergency shelters are at maximum capacity. Repeat, stay in your neighborhood. Your contact in Redwood Shores is Nathan Serebus.”

  This continued until they reached Beach Park Boulevard, at which point they headed north. At East Hillsdale Boulevard, they about-faced and retraced the route. This would reach the base of the neighborhood. As they drove, Nathan counted the packs of cannibals. Depression set in around fifty.

  On the return trip, the convoy found residents outside, speaking with one another in clusters. They would make this place one colossal cluster if they didn’t get inside.

  Nathan stopped at one of the largest groups. As he parked the Sierra, he radioed Sarge. “I’m going to do some face-to-face PR.”

  “Good luck.”

  Nathan dismounted, making sure his DHS-issued bullet-resistant vest showed. The people in their huddle looked up, wide eyes roving over his armor.

  “Good morning.” He smiled at the locals. “I assume you heard the announcement? I’m Nathan Serebus from Redwood Shores. You need to return to your houses; there are over fifty groups of the affected in the area. I’m sure you’re also aware of what happened across Belmont Slough. There was a large-scale invasion by the affected, and the government chose to act.”

  “You’re our representative, right?” a weedy man with spiked, bleached-blond hair asked, his dark eyes brimming with worry.

  Our representative. Excellent. “Yes. I’m here to help you. The government doesn’t have enough people available, so it’s recruiting neighborhoods to look after each other. If you need help, you’re to come to us. We’re your contact point.”

  “Really?” Skepticism from a woman who came to Nathan’s mid chest. She shook dreadlocks out of her face. “You mean we don’t have to try to flag down vehicles on the freeway?”

  “That doesn’t work anyway,” groaned Spike Hair.

  “Correct. But right now the government wants you to shelter in place. Pass the word to your neighbors. We’re trying to get everyone on the same team.” Another smile.

  “That sounds better t
han what we’ve been doing. We’re almost out of food and water. Can you help us with that?”

  “We’ve been authorized to salvage unused supplies from resource areas. This falls under the government’s ability to commandeer assets to protect the public.” The National Guard possessed this power, so it sounded plausible. It also tickled the people’s itching ears. Already they seemed to have picked up on diplomatic wording’s meaning: they could loot their neighbors as long as their neighbors weren’t home.

  They looked at each other, then at him.

  “What about after that?” Spike asked.

  “We’re working on it. This is a team effort, and we all have to pitch in to make it succeed. Spread the word.”

  “We will. Thank you!” Dreadlock waved as Nathan returned to the Sierra.

  “Thank God for crises,” he muttered.

  ++++++++++

  Nathan broke from the convoy, returning to the disaster area. The warmth of satisfaction glowed in his heart, keeping a smile on his lips. Foster City seemed eager to find a leader. Their beloved government had left them to die, and only ragged groups had managed to form in lieu of centralized authority.

  He slowed the Sierra, approaching the blighted portion of Redwood Shores. The residents from his side who scouted the neighborhood lowered their weapons when they recognized his vehicle.

  He rolled down the window. “Any luck?”

  The woman he addressed shook her head. “Not a whole lot. We found a few survivors, but we don’t know how many could still be buried.”

  “There are still a few cannibals around,” Kennedy called as he approached. “Where were you at?”

  “I was warning Foster City to stay inside to avoid another episode like this.” Nod to the nearest collapsed building.

  “They’re not going to be stupid like these dumbasses, right?” Kennedy turned a sneer of disgust on the rubble heaps.