The Dying of the Light (Book 1): End

by Jason Kristopher

  He crouched down and looked under the vehicle, then back at me with a grin. “Yes, sir.”

  The rest of the team gathered around as Dalton pulled the squirming Major Carver from beneath the Stryker. He fought like a cornered badger, which affected the massive gunnery sergeant not in the slightest. Hands like iron vises clamped down on the man’s shoulders; he was going nowhere.

  “Get away, just get away!” He shouted, voice rising till it was almost a shriek.

  I slapped the major, hard. “Get control of yourself, man! You’re a soldier, for fuck’s sake!” His head rocked back from the force of the blow, and as his eyes cleared, he glared at me. “I’ll have your ass for that!”

  I looked back at him coldly, uncaring. Hell, I would’ve done just about anything for anyone at that moment if it meant this ball-less wonder never commanded troops in the field again.

  “No, you won’t,” said Kim’s voice, over my shoulder, and she came to stand next to me, along with the rest of my squad. I glanced at Kim, and she nodded.

  “AEGIS Actual, Alpha Five.”

  There was a pause, and then the colonel was on the line. Carver’s eyes widened at my temerity. It wasn’t every soldier that could just summon the colonel. “Go ahead.”

  “Sir, I’m reporting an Article 99.”

  “I see. On whom?”

  “Major Carver, Second Team, sir.”

  “What happened?”

  “Sir, Major Carver crawled under the ICV while we were engaged, and refused a direct request for assistance. We barely fought them off, sir.”

  “Corroborating witness?”

  “Yes, sir. Sergeant Rachel Eaton, 1st Team, sir. I saw it.” Before the colonel could respond, the others of my squad also joined in.

  “Gunnery Sergeant Dalton Gaines, 1st Team, sir. I saw what happened.”

  “Captain Thomas Reynolds, 1st Team, sir. I saw it, too.”

  “Yes, yes. Very good.” Maxwell paused, and his voice took on a tone of command I’d only heard him use a few times since I’d been a member of AEGIS. “Major Carver, do you read?”

  The major looked sick, having gone pale at the conversation going on around him. He seemed to muster whatever self-esteem he might still have had, and raised his chin as Kim obligingly activated his radio. “Yes, sir. Carver here.”

  “Very well. Major Carver, you are hereby relieved of your command pending a full investigation. Your XO is Captain Ramos if I remember correctly,” Maxwell said, his voice as cold and robotic as I’d ever heard it. “Ramos, come in.”

  A new voice came on the line, one I didn’t recognize. He too was cold and emotionless. “This is Lieutenant Greer, sir. Captain Ramos didn’t make it.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. You are next up, are you not?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Very well. Captain, you are now in command of Second Team, effective immediately.”

  “Yes, sir,” James answered. “It’s lieutenant, sir.”

  “Not anymore.”

  “Yes, sir. What’s left of my men and I will assist with cleanup, sir.”

  “Very well. Barnes?”

  “Here, sir,” said Kimberly, unconsciously straightening without actually coming to attention.

  “Major Barnes, take Carver into custody until such time as he can be delivered to base MPs at Fort Carson.”

  “Yes, sir,” she replied. “Barnes clear.”

  I’d seen fury before, but the tight control that Major Carver showed amazed me. I don’t know how he kept such anger in check, but it was pointless to wonder. Kim jerked her head toward the Stryker.

  “Major Carver, this way please.” I motioned to the back of the Stryker, and holding his head high, the major entered the vehicle. The vehicle commander gave me a questioning look.

  “Article 99, sir,” I said. “Would you happen to have restraints, sir?”

  “99?” said the captain; Graves, according to his ACU. “That serious?”

  “Sir, you must’ve been otherwise occupied, sir. He crawled under the Stryker and refused to fire on the enemy, sir.”

  Graves turned to face the major, a look in his eye that I was sure he reserved for things he wanted to scrape off the bottom of his boot. I’m fairly certain my own expression wasn’t much different.

  “Well, that is serious, isn’t it? And stupid, to boot. If we’d needed to maneuver this tub, you would’ve been grape jelly. Regardless, you realize that an Article 99 is punishable either by death,” he paused as Carver cringed. “Or such punishment as a court-martial may direct, sir?”

  When Carver didn’t respond, Captain Graves smiled down at Carver from his raised seat. “I see. Well, all we have are some tow chains, son, but you’re welcome to them.” He gestured to a panel inset into the floor.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Five minutes later, Carver was trussed like a Thanksgiving turkey, chained to one of the bulkheads. A truly screwed-up turkey, but a turkey nonetheless.

  “We’ll keep an eye on him,” said Captain Graves, shaking his head at Carver’s predicament. “Not like he’s going to go very far, anyway.” He glanced back up at his monitors. “Looks like your squad could use a hand.”

  I looked around and noticed that Kim had started the team policing the area as I was dealing with Carver. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

  I left the Stryker, jogging over to where Reynolds struggled with one of the bodies from Charlie squad, and pulled on the nitrile biohazard gloves we all carried for such tasks, as well as my respirator mask. No sense taking chances. Reynolds smiled at me thankfully, and then reached down to turn off the poor dead soldier’s REAPR unit.

  “Bastards must’ve surprised them, sir. I think this is nearly the whole squad.”

  “I think it’s more than that, captain. Take a look.” I said, pointing at one of the other bodies. It was a teenage boy, no more than thirteen or fourteen. Or it had been, once. He grimaced and spat to one side. “Easy. It’s the price we pay. You know that.”

  “Knowing doesn’t make it any easier, sir.” He held up a hand to forestall my comment. “I know, I know. Still… sometimes I wish we could just push a button and wipe all of them off the planet.”

  I couldn’t help but think of Rebecca and Eric, and sighed as I hefted the other end of the body bag I’d put the first corpse in, and sighed. “You and me both, Tom. You and me both.”

  Cheyenne, Wyoming

  Damn him, she thought, pulling the news van into the television station’s parking lot. First, that bastard colonel stonewalls me until he leaves, and then his “support staff” isn’t allowed to talk to me at all. Support staff, my ass. They were the cleaners, making sure nothing and no one that I could use slipped through the cracks.

  “Hi, Ms. Poole,” said the smiling young security guard behind the glass of the lot’s security booth. “Find anything interesting out there?”

  “No, I didn’t,” she said harshly. “Open the damn gate already!”

  The guard’s smile faded, and he pushed a button. “Right away, ma’am.” The gate raised and she drove off. Bitch.

  Rick met her as she entered the building, carrying the few disks she’d managed to get out of the damned Army.

  “So, Doris… Tell me you got something,” he said, dry-washing his hands in expectation, looking her up and down in the process.

  Ugh, how much creepier can this asshole get? she thought, and then sighed. It’s my fault, I suppose. I never should’ve slept with him.

  “Nothing, Rick, okay? Not a damn thing. That jackass colonel gave me nothing but the same old crap, and then he wouldn’t let us go into town, and the people he left to clean up the mess are even less helpful. They wouldn’t talk to us at all.”

  “Well, maybe we’ll find something we can use in the video.” He tried to smile winningly at her, completely unaware that it appeared instead as yet another leer.

  Doris narrowed her eyes and glared at him. How much does this little troll know? Did Steven tell
him about that emblem?

  “Oh, I doubt that,” she said. “Nothing there, really.”

  Rick looked around, as though he’d just realized something. “Where’s the new guy?”

  Doris lost it. “That ‘new guy’ was worthless, Rick! He couldn’t hold the camera steady to save his or my life, he was never ready to roll when I needed him and to top it all off, he asked me to drop him off at his place instead of coming back here. Said he had something ‘important’ to do. I swear to god if you ever send some useless prick like that out with me again, I’ll…”

  Rick held out his hands, surrendering. “Okay, okay, Doris. Just come inside and we’ll see what you’ve got on the video.”

  “You know what, Rick? I don’t think I will,” she said, hands on her hips. “I’ve changed my mind. It’s been a long goddamned day and I’m going home. We can go over the video tomorrow.” She turned and stormed off across the lot to her car, an aging pale blue BMW. Rick just watched her go, shrugging and heading back inside.

  Doris sat down in the front seat of the car, the recorded disks resting in a plastic bag on the passenger seat. Pulling out her Blackberry, she texted her sometime ‘boyfriend’ Jason, although that was a huge stretch. He was more convenient than anything else.

  “Have special project for u. Meet ASAP, my place.”

  Smiling to herself in triumph, she put the key in the ignition. She never saw the hand that came from the back seat and clamped over her mouth, or the needle that dipped ever so quickly into her neck.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Fort Carson, Colorado

  Maxwell waved Kim and I into his office, and we remained at attention while he was on the phone.

  “No sir, I’m not saying we did everything right. Yes, sir, I realize there were mistakes made. Yes, sir, we’ll correct those as soon as we can.” The colonel looked up at us and motioned for us to sit, then rolled his eyes, holding the headset away from his ear. We both grinned.

  “Yes, sir. No, sir. Absolutely, sir. Mr. Gardner, sir, I’m afraid I have to go — debriefings, you know. Goodbye, sir.” I could hear Gardner still talking as Maxwell hung up the phone, but I wasn’t about to stop him.

  “So, thanks for getting here so quickly,” he said, smiling. “I hate talking to that guy.” He stood up and then came around the desk and perched on one corner of it.

  “We lost a lot of good people today. Nearly three-quarters of Second team.”

  “Three-quarters, sir? I knew about Charlie squad, but Delta, too?” I asked.

  “Oh, they weren’t turned or anything. No, unfortunately, they were killed when some redneck tried to cross the barricade and accidentally slammed his jacked up F-350 into their Humvee at about 60mph.” He shook his head. “As if we didn’t have enough problems with the walkers.”

  “What was the total on walkers, sir?”

  “Three hundred and fifty-two. Another forty or so uninfected are under observation for psychosis, and we had to euthanize twenty-three that had been bitten. All of the bodies are being cremated, of course, with fake ashes returned to their families.”

  I sighed, not liking it but understanding the necessity. “Any problems with the media?”

  Maxwell looked at me sharply for a moment, and then shook his head. “Nothing we couldn’t handle, Blake. Damn reporters nosing around; I hate reporters.”

  “How’d things go in Maine, sir?” asked Kim.

  “They went right the hell out the window. Only lost one of ours, but we had to write the whole city off, for the most part.”

  I swallowed. “Sir? What happened?”

  He sighed and moved to his windows, looking out at the sprawling base, his hands clasped behind his back. “Commander Anderson tells me that our intel from the Maine location was extremely unrealistic. There were more than two hundred walkers there when we arrived, and it was only because of their training and superior firepower that they were able to maintain the single casualty. He said that, at the end, they were firing on civilians who were rushing the barricades, scared out of their minds. The country’s so open up there that the Strykers burned through two tanks of gas each just on perimeter patrols.”

  “Scylla and Charybdis, sir,” I said, and both he and Kim turned to look at me. “Homer’s Odyssey, sir? A rock and a hard place. Either get eaten by zombies or shot by the Army. I know which I’d rather choose, sir.”

  Kim shuddered, nodding. “Too right. No choice there at all.”

  Maxwell looked thoughtful. “Maybe you’re right. In any case, we ended up wiping out most of the town. Called it a gas main explosion. We used a low-yield FAE. I’m afraid there’s not much left.”

  “Holy shit, sir! I thought fuel-air explosives required special presidential authorization.”

  “Normally they would, but AEGIS has been cleared to use them at our discretion, with the caveat that every use would be investigated later. It was one of my conditions for starting the program.”

  “Ah, forgiveness is better than permission, right, sir?”

  “Exactly. Still, there were more than 8,000 people in Farmington. We rescued fewer than 500.”

  This sobering thought occupied all our attentions for a moment, until I realized something.

  “Shit!” I said, still thinking.

  “Yes, Mr. Blake?” Maxwell said. “What is it?”

  “Something’s been bothering me ever since Rawlins, and I just figured out what it was.”

  “Do tell.”

  “So Charlie squad was overrun and taken down, at least most of them.”

  “Yes?”

  “Then they came and attacked us after they were turned.”

  “That’s what you stated in your report.”

  “So the question is, how the hell did they turn so fast?”

  Maxwell thumped back in his seat. “Holy shit.”

  “Exactly, sir. The only other time we’ve seen this sort of speed in turning was with that tech that Chauncey got to. He turned before we even made it to the building, sir. Maybe 10 — 15 minutes, at most. Charlie Squad took about the same time, given what we heard.”

  Kim looked over at Maxwell. “Sir, did we ever find out anything from Gardner’s people on that situation with Chauncey? Maybe there’s something they’ve discovered…”

  Maxwell was silent, staring down at his desk. I could almost see the thunderclouds forming over his head as his expression turned darker by the moment.

  “No, we never did get any information from them, as such, major,” he said. I don’t think he realized he was clenching his fists.

  “And what about those kids? They were too damned fast. That can’t be normal,” I said. “Kim and I saw the same thing from that kid in Roosevelt. Just blindingly fast. But only the kids. Any word on that either?”

  “No,” he said. I had the impression that Mr. Gardner was going to have a very unpleasant conversation, very soon.

  Suddenly, there was a knock at the door and Commander Anderson entered, saluting.

  “Yes, commander?” said Maxwell.

  “Sir, I’ve got some bad news,” he said, moving forward. “It looks like Tremaine isn’t going to make it, sir.” His face looked bleak as he turned to us. “Tremaine was in 4th Team up in Maine. We thought he was just ill, but it turns out he was hiding a bite, and is in the last stages of turning.”

  The ACU-clad walker pounded against the thick bullet-proof glass, trying to get to the food it saw on the other side. Several of us stood there, staring at it, wanting more than a little to reach for our sidearms as the creature pounded again and again at the barrier.

  I know it would be practically impossible for the thing to break out, but after what happened with Chauncey… I shuddered, still hearing the echoing screams of the poor technician who’d slipped up just a bit and ended up as walker food.

  There was a buzz from the security door, and the colonel waved at the small window set into the frame, simultaneously pushing the button that turned the observation glass opaq
ue. There was another buzz, and the door opened to admit Henry Gardner, in a different — yet still dull — gray suit.

  “Ah, Mr. Gardner, good to have you with us. I thought you might like to see what your orders have wrought.”

  Gardner looked at him skeptically. “Yes, well, let’s not waste time, colonel. Where’s the specimen?”

  “If you’ll just step up to the glass, sir, you’ll be able to see in just a moment.” He looked at Kimberly and I and the other soldiers in the room as Gardner stepped forward, trying to see through the glass, and then pushed the button, turning it transparent once more.