by Z. A. Recht
Stone, Stephens, and Rebecca followed up the hallway.
“And it’s all worth it. I get back to Mount Weather, the Chairman can kiss my ass. I have the cure, and I have the doctor that made it happen. And who else is there to stop me? Who?”
Stone stopped walking, and put a hand out to stop Rebecca, too.
“No one can stop me.”
Stone smiled. “Mason can still stop you.”
“What?”
From the doorway to his room, the creature that was NSA Agent Gregory Mason lurched out and grabbed ahold of Sawyer. With a yell, Dr. Demilio dove away, hot blood following her as Mason tore into Sawyer’s neck with his teeth. Screaming, Sawyer turned, firing his weapon and trying to get free. It wasn’t until they were on the floor and Mason was gnawing on Sawyer’s neck that he was able to put one in the carrier’s head.
Sawyer lay there, gurgling and dying. Stone approached, no emotion showing on his face.
“Not a winner,” he said, and shot Sawyer in the head.
Omaha, NE
1 July 2007
2334 hrs_
THE INITIAL CELEBRATIONS OUTSIDE the Fac were held off while Mbutu Ngasy, Allen, Mitsui, and Brewster struggled to stand the fence back up and Keaton and Stiles worked to extract Sherman from the wreckage of the truck.
“Gonna need something to hold it up,” Allen said. Mbutu looked thoughtful.
“I believe there is a van,” he said.
“There is a van, but there’s no gas,” Brewster said. “You gonna wish it over here, big guy?”
A bright smile slashed across Mbutu’s face. “If you can hold back the cursed, I can bring it. But I will need the help of the Sheriff.”
Grunting, Brewster turned his back on the fence, holding it that way. “Well, there he is. Go ask him.”
Mbutu got the help of Keaton and Stone, the latter having exited the Fac with an M4A1 rifle in his arms and an M-16 over his back. Dr. Demilio and Rebecca were right behind him, each armed with a pistol.
Once the van was in place, the group stood in the yard, trading hugs and yells, and sometimes falling silent at the mention of fallen comrades.
Brewster turned back to the ruined tower. “We should see if Krueger made it,” he said.
Allen put a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, man. The place is crawling with carriers. And I think we’re about to have company, anyway.” Looking up, Allen pointed to a chopper approaching. “You think it’s the same guys that blew that other chopper away?”
“No, that’s not them. That was an Apache, like the one that went down. This is a Little Bird.” Brewster set his mouth in a hard line. “But they’d better be with them.”
The helicopter set down carefully in the area to the side of the Fac, the last clear spot that the pilot could put it down. Brewster, Keaton, Stiles, Stone, and Allen approached from the side with weapons ready. The door opened and a black man in combat uniform stepped out. Blacked-out insignia sat on his collar points, an oak leaf.
Brewster stepped forward.
“Who goes there?”
The man from the chopper was Colonel Forrest, from NORAD command, Cheyenne Mountain, and he came just in time.
“We were already on our way to Offutt AFB to disarm some of the ordnance there when we picked up some radio chatter, mostly from an operator named Hal and the Sheriff there,” he said, pointing at Keaton. The colonel was a compact man, short but not stubby, and his dark brown hair was cut in a regulation high-and-tight. No stubble showed on his brown face. “A response was sent out, but we never received a comeback, so here we are. You can thank Hal for his detailed description of Sawyer’s attack, also. There’s a detachment back at the Air Force base to round up whoever comes running back with their tails tucked in.”
“So, you’re here to save us from the bad men?” Brewster asked, eyes slits in his face.
A small movement happened on the colonel’s face, barely recognizable as a smile.
“As it happens, no. We heard all of Sawyer’s radio chatter, too, and he said something about a cure.”
Dr. Demilio blew out a breath and put her head on the table. “Not this again.”
“I’ll take it from here,” Stiles said, standing. “If there’s a cure, it’s in me. Check it out.” He rolled up his sleeve and pant leg, showing the colonel both bites. “Immunity.”
“I’ll be damned,” Forrest whispered. “You have been touched by God.”
“And the devil,” Brewster said. “Twice.”
“Here’s the long and short of it, Colonel,” Anna said. “We haven’t done human trials yet. We’re maybe weeks away from that. Especially here, where we’re out of touch and supplies are dwindling.”
The colonel stood, putting his cap on. “I’ll see what I can do.”
He walked away, and Allen sat up. “Isn’t anyone going to stop him?”
Brewster put out a hand. “From what? We tried to stop Sawyer, and look what it cost us. Thomas. Krueger. Denton. Jack. Juni. Trev. Mason. All your guys except you and Stone.” He shrugged. “This is where I say no more.”
He got up and went to his room, locking himself in.
The rest of the night passed, everyone telling their part of the story, including Keaton (who refused to answer to “Sheriff” now), who told of the end of Abraham.
Omaha, NE
2 July 2007
0737 hrs_
The next morning, there was a knock on the Fac door, in the correct code. Mitsui ran to open it, and there stood Krueger, a bent and twisted piece of metal as a crutch and a smile on his face.
“They ruined my tower,” he said, and Mitsui had to catch him as he fell.
“Hey!” the contractor yelled. “Krueger!”
The ensuing mania was reminiscent of the day before, and Krueger was unconscious for it all. The only two missing were Brewster and Dr. Demilio, who were drinking coffee in the rec room.
“You find yourself a match, yet?” Brewster asked.
Anna shook her head. “No. Stiles is an AB negative. That’s pretty rare. Less than three percent—”
“I’m an AB negative,” Brewster said, upending his cup and finishing it. “Give me the shot.”
The Doctor put down her cup. “Are you kidding? Because I’m in no mood for that kind of shit, Brewster.”
He made a face. “No, this time I’m serious. All the serious people are gone. Denton and Thomas were the serious people. So was Trev. So, I’m serious. Give me the shot. My time here is done, anyway.”
“What do you mean?”
He stood up. “Come on, Doc. I had a thing with Juni, and she’s dead. Came all the way from goddamn Suez with Thomas and Denton and Jack, and they’re dead. All I see now are faces that I know will go the same way, and you know what? I can’t take that shit anymore. So hit me up with the shot. I have a lot of miles to cover before sundown.”
Seeing that Brewster was serious, she got up and left to go to BL4.
After Rebecca was done ministering to Krueger and Sherman for the morning, she came back to check on Mark Stiles.
“Hey,” she said.
He looked up and saw it was her. “Hey, back,” he said.
“You okay?”
Stiles sighed. “I don’t know. Just sitting here and waiting for that Army guy to come back, I get a feeling in my gut. Good or bad, I can’t tell yet, but there’s something about to happen.”
She nodded, sitting next to him. “Me, too.” Reaching out, she took his hand in hers. “I guess we can only wait and see.”
Mark Stiles, frozen, didn’t say anything . . . he just relished the feel of her hand.
“Yeah,” he said. “We’ll see.”
Later in the morning, Colonel Forrest reappeared in the same helicopter.
“Not an attack chopper,” Allen said to himself on the roof. “Good sign.” He radioed down to let everyone know the man had returned.
A short while later, they were gathered around a table in the Fac.
“
The government,” Colonel Forrest started, and was cut off by the Doctor.
“Which one?” she asked.
The almost-smile flittered across the colonel’s dark face. “The remnants of the United States Government, Doctor. We’re still around, and we’re still here to help. I’ve been empowered to tell you that a team of virologists will be on their way to study, ah, your specimen”—he nodded in apology to Stiles—“since this is the best place for it. You, if you choose, will be the head of the team. Work is already under way to reinforce the Offutt AFB for materials and personnel.”
Dr. Demilio just stared. “That’s it? No demands?”
The colonel shook his head. “None. That all of you here have made it for this long is nothing short of amazing. The president has great respect for that. And you.”
The Doctor smiled. “Tell him I said yes.”
Omaha, NE
4 July 2007
0922 hrs_
After Colonel Forrest departed once more, the entire group gathered around the entrance to the Fac, saying their good-byes.
“Gonna miss you,” Rebecca said, hugging Brewster’s neck and patting his back.
“Yeah,” Krueger said from the couch. “Skip out before the real work begins.” Then he smiled, and Brewster smiled, and they shared a hug, as well.
“And you’re still feeling okay,” Dr. Demilio said, looking into Brewster’s eyes.
“I’m fine, Doc,” he said. “I just want to get on the road. Allen’s still topside, isn’t he?”
Stiles nodded.
“Tell him to tie one on for me. I might be done drinking for a while.” He turned to the door, patting his belt to make sure both ASPs were there. “Oh, shit! I almost forgot,” he said, turning back. “Jack wanted me to tell you about his last name. It was Welder.”
Walking out of the Fac, Brewster strode past the scorched earth where Thomas had made his last stand. He stopped and knelt there. He looked down at the ground, then up into the sky. A quiet minute passed.
“Hey, Sarge,” Brewster said. “I guess I’m still a fuckup, but I’m trying now. Wanna get past it. I just wanted to let you know, all right? I think all my time with Trev really straightened me out. If you saw that coming, then kudos to you, Sarge. So, I think I’m going to wander for a bit. If I find other survivors, I’ll let them know the good news. And I’ll make sure all of them know the names of the people who made it possible.
“Kick ass on the other side, brother. It’s Independence Day.”
He stood and walked out the gate.
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Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1: Catching Up
Chapter 2: Daily Grind
Chapter 3: Bite Marks and Dog Food
Chapter 4: Fight or Flight
Chapter 5: Architecture of Aggression
Chapter 6: Reveille
Chapter 7: The Big Breakup
Chapter 8: Abraham Burning
Chapter 9: One-Stop Shopping
Chapter 10: The Fac
Chapter 11: Calm Before
Chapter 12: The Storm
Chapter 13: Mettle
Epilogue
