His mind raced, images flashing up one after another. The woman he had killed. Gwen. The infected. The doctor. The survivors. His parents. His friends from work. Andrea. His body kept involuntarily shaking him back awake, as if it knew its preservation depended on his alertness.
Unable to find peace, he checked his watch and studied the infected below. The monsters had finished their unholy meal, and hundreds of hands reached for the living in the mobile lounge. They shuffled in place each undead person staring expectantly. A sorrowful tune of pain and suffering emitted from their morbid lips.
Steele turned away from his undaunted single minded foes. We are in a tight spot. No help. No relief in sight. We’re going to have to gut this one out. Mauser sat in the driver’s seat, his head resting on the steering wheel. Jarl sat on a bench and gazed out the window, his large arms crossed, looking every inch the predator of men. He waited for the go-ahead to rip apart the enemy below them. Regular men wouldn’t stand a chance against him. But these were no longer men.
Steele clicked the circular button near the bottom of his phone, illuminating a picture of Gwen and him on a cruise. He pressed the white speech bubble and a new screen sprung open. Steele ran his thumb over the screen, dragging it downward over and over. Her last message said, “I love you. Be safe.” He pulled the screen down again. Nothing changed. “I love you. Be safe.” I’m coming back for you, he thought.
His mind ran circles. She could be anywhere, or she could be dead. No. She can’t be dead. I have to get back to her. He had always promised her that nothing would stand in the way of him getting back to her. Nothing. If he had to crawl out of the pits of hell itself, he would do it.
He had known that she was the one as soon as he met her. He remembered thinking, this girl needs someone like me in her life. When she had pulled him close for their first kiss, it had felt like stars colliding. He knew that when feelings like that were real, they created a true and inseparable bond.
Lost in his thoughts Steele scratched at his beard, removing flaked blood. The sooner he delivered the civilians to safety, the sooner he could go find Gwen. Stalking over to the driver’s compartment, he patted a woman’s shoulder as he passed. He was trying to keep it level for the survivors. People needed a shepherd in times of crisis, and although he had always thought of himself as one, it wasn’t until now that he really knew what it was to be one.
They didn’t know how bad this was yet, and obviously some portion of the government still operated. But they weren’t active in McCone. Maybe McCone was compromised; maybe it was under some sort of quarantine. That meant there could be secure areas nearby where he could seek help for their wounded.
He knelt by Wheeler, who laid on his back, skin dangerously pallid. Steele gently planted two fingers on his carotid artery. His skin cold and clammy to the touch, but a faint pulse still remained.
“Hang in there, you tough old bastard,” Steele said under his breath.
Steele continued to the driver’s compartment, placing a hand on Mauser’s shoulder. “You all right, man?”
Mauser slowly sat up, blinking and staring around, wide-eyed. “What?” he wiped his mouth. “Just tired.”
Steele exhaled loudly. “Hang in there. How many rounds you got left?”
Mauser ejected the magazine from his handgun. “Just eight, man.”
Steele knew Mauser could see they were in a tight spot. “Say, you wanna make a trade?” Steele asked his friend. Mauser narrowed his eyes wary of some sort of trick.
“What ya’ got?” he said cautiously.
Steele rummaged around in his pockets pulling out a spare mag. “I’ll trade you twelve hollow point rounds for a chew,” Steele said, placing the mag in his hand.
Mauser grinned from ear to ear, pulling out a green tin from his pocket. Holding the tin in between his thumb and middle finger, he whipped his hand letting his index finger slap the outside of the can. After packing the small granules to one side, he opened the tin with a twist. Steele preferred natural flavor, but wintergreen long cut would do in a pinch.
“It’s a deal,” Mauser said with a tired smile, shoving the full mag in his pocket. Steele took a wad of the grainy tobacco from the tin between his forefingers and his thumb, and placed the chew into the bottom-left corner of his lip. He could feel the surge of nicotine and other chemicals enter his blood stream.
“Thanks bro, you’re a lifesaver,” Mauser said.
“Don’t say I never hooked you up,” Steele said, spitting onto the floor.
Steele didn’t ‘chew’ on the regular. If I am going to stay awake any longer, I’m going to need it. Nauseousness lurked behind its invigoration. Mauser threw some into his mouth, losing some onto the front of his shirt. He wiped the black granules onto the floor.
Opening a side window in the driver’s compartment, he spat down onto the infected below. He was rewarded with a chorus of moans. “How do you like that?” he hollered down toward them. He turned toward Steele. Dark circles hung beneath his eyes, making him seem older than he was.
“I’m not sure anyone is coming for us,” Mauser said. He patted the steering wheel. “But this thing can handle just about anything. We could just drive out of here.”
“How long’s it been since we landed?” Steele asked him.
“About four hours,” he said with a glance at his big watch face.
“I’m afraid to see what it looks like out there, but I think you’re right. Nobody’s coming,” Steele replied. “Let’s get everyone together and talk about our options.”
Steele clapped his hands quietly. “Everybody listen up,” he said.
Scared, eager eyes stared back at him. He stood in front of them. There was no point being nervous now. He was in charge whether he wanted to be or not. Isn’t this what I wanted: a chance to prove myself? That thought made butterflies bounce even faster, along with fear of not living up to his own lofty standards.
How does one empathize with the terror we have been through? Is it too soon? I’m no psychiatrist. What could you possibly say to someone who just saw their friends and family eaten alive?
Wheeler would have known what to do. He would have known exactly what to do. He eyed the survivors, another pang of butterflies filling his stomach and subsiding.
“For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Agent Steele. Here with me are Agent Mauser, Agent Thorfinson and Agent Wheeler, who is incapacitated at the moment. We’ve tried to contact the local police and paramedics, but we haven’t been able to get through to them yet.” He spit chew on the floor growing confidence with every word.
The staffer, who had been giving Steele hell earlier, lifted her head promptly. Her eyes bored into him, judging him like he was prized cattle on display. “Why can’t we go into the terminal? I’m sure there’s help inside, or at least a bathroom.”
“I’m sorry. What can I call you?” Steele said, taking a seat across from her.
“I’m Foreign Service Officer Kim. I’m the embassy lead for financial aid programs to the DRC,” she said with some pomp. “What kind of agents are you guys? Like FBI or CIA?” she asked.
Steele smiled briefly. “Neither. We’re part of the Counterterrorism Division. Just think of us as your guardian angels.”
“Well, I’ve never heard of that organization,” she said, crossing her arms.
Steele grinned. “Good, FSO Kim. That’s just the way we prefer it. If you don’t know we’re there, it’s a good day for everyone. And as to your question earlier, we know that there are infected inside, and we have no idea if we can get help. As far as I can tell, the outbreak on our plane has already struck here. And it’s bad,” Steele said, stroking his beard.
She glared at him, unbelieving. Steele knew FSO Kim would be the death of him. She needed everything spelled out to her, questioning his every move. It was infuriating.
“How do you know?” she asked.
“Frankly, Ms. Kim, we can’t tell. For our country’s sake, I hope we are in
a quarantine zone so at least we would know rescue is on the way.”
He jabbed his index finger at the terminal doors. An infected man with his scalp hanging loosely to one side ground his face against the glass, while others crowded around him.
“I know this. Those people right there are infected, and they mean to do us harm. So we’re not going in there. If the virus were airborne, we would already be infected because of the airplane’s air recirculation system. We also know that the disease makes them fearless with a taste for human.” Mauser chuckled from behind.
“Those were our friends on the plane,” a man in a blazer said angered sitting upright.
“I lost colleagues as well. So don’t think for a moment that I enjoy discussing the intricacies of our assailants,” Steele said. He gave Mauser a backward glance. A little less crass next time. The agents would often use humor as a morbid coping tool. Something that many people would never understand.
FSO Kim sat back arms still folded under her chest. “How do we know its not airborne?”
At this rate, Steele would tug the beard off his face. They questioned everything he said. Can’t they just accept my answers and move on? Wheeler would have had them eating out of the palm of his hand by now.
“Let’s just call it an educated guess,” he said, pausing while he let that sink in. “Body shots only appear to slow them down. Headshots will stop them. I wish the doctor were here to explain some of the science.”
As the representative speaker for the airline crew, Captain Richards spoke up. “What about the guys who grabbed the doctor? Why didn’t they help us?”
That is a sore subject. Being left for dead by the other agents, was a definite low point in his day. A betrayal by men who were on the ‘same team’ would be something that he never forgot. Steele didn’t know why they had been left behind, but any reason was a bad reason.
“Your guess is as good as mine. It seemed to me they were getting the hell out of here, no questions asked.”
Disappointment filled their faces, but no one objected.
“We’re gonna stay put until we hear something from somebody. I suggest you get some rest. I have some protein bars in my bag.”
Steele never left for a mission without a significant supply of protein bars, tuna packs, nuts and other high-protein foods. He had traveled enough to be cautious of the airline food. “We’ll update you when we have new information.” Steele left them to their own thoughts and joined Mauser in the front.
“Nice speech. Anything else you don’t know?”
“I know nothing except what I can see, and right now, that ain’t much,” Steele said. “Can you get the radio working?”
Mauser flipped some switches in the side of the compartment and a static filled radio sprang to life. “I’ll mess with it here and see if we can pick something up.”
Steele’s own internal dilemma preoccupied his mind. “As soon as we get these people to safety, I’m out. Mission accomplished,” Steele said. “Got to get home.”
Mauser nodded, watching him. He understood why Steele needed to get home.
Steele hit redial on his phone again, only to hear the busy tone. He gazed at the smartphone in distress, taking in Gwen’s caller ID picture, which lit up the background of the screen.
“Ah, man. I’m sure she’s fine. You two will be back in each other’s arms before you know it. I got your six.”
“Yeah, I know,” Steele mumbled.
Having someone’s six meant that you covered his six o’clock position or his back; someone’s most vulnerable position. That’s all well and good, thought Steele, but his gut told him things were going to get much worse.
The hours ticked on, and night descended upon them. The radio spewed static and, after an hour of messing with it, Mauser eventually turned it down. The remaining CT agents took turns standing watch as the moans of the dead rose up from beneath them like an ungodly choir. The survivors dozed in and out of fevered consciousness.
Steele took the middle watch. Performing a magazine exchange, he situated the half-full mag into his magazine pouch, and slid the full one into his gun. They were never geared up for a war. As undercover agents in the field, they carried just enough rounds per person to put some serious damage down-range quickly. Unless they were deployed to a combat zone, they would never suit up like a SWAT team or a Special Operations unit. They couldn’t realistically carry around hundreds of rounds of ammunition or the heavy weapons needed for an extended combat situation. Give me a long gun, hell, give me just some more ammo, and this would be a totally different scenario.
He glanced down at the mass of people gathered below. In the dark, their constant movements made them look like a sea of maggots: shuffling forms of death; always eating, never resting. Their ranks swelled as mangled, charred corpses from the crashed flight added to their horde. Helicopters thundered past them above. We’re alive down here, he thought, silently shouting for their help.
After an hour of nothing, the monotony of his watch was suddenly broken.
Buzzzzzzzz. Beep. Beep. The radio lit up, abruptly coming to life. “This is MWAA police, you guys all right? Anybody there? Over.”
Steele leapt over to the radio in the driver’s compartment.
Mauser beat him to it. He held down the radio microphone key. “Ah, yeah, we’re alive in here. This is Agent Mauser speaking. To whom am I speaking? Over.”
Ten tense seconds passed, and they held their breath.
The radio crackled. “This is Officer Summerdyke. We’re in a utility shed on the far side of the airstrip 0-9-L. Can you make it to us? Over.”
Steele exchanged looks with Mauser.
“Yeah, we should be able to. What’s in the shed?” Mauser said.
“It goes underground. Over.” The radio fell silent.
“Excellent, we’ll be over in a few,” Mauser said, glancing at Steele, who nodded his approval.
“Just keep it down. Last time we checked, there were a few of them near the door on the surface,” Summerdyke said.
“Copy that, we’re on the move.”
Mauser threw the mover into reverse jolting everyone awake, and steered for the edge of the tarmac. Driving around the airport could have been a slow process if the airport was active. The vehicle rumbled down the middle of the runway the only mobile vehicle in sight.
“What’s going on?” Jarl yelled, reaching up to grab a handrail.
“MWAA is in a shed,” Steele yelled, holding onto the side of the driver’s compartment.
“What are they doing in there?”
“Probably hiding,” Steele called back. “Something that we’re going to do too.” The mobile lounge mushed the infected under its massive tires, swaying.
“Wahoo,” Mauser shouted. “Take that you stupid fuckers,” he called out in glee.
To their right, the runway lights glowed yellow and blue in the night signaling a safe place to land, but no planes glided in. The skies aren’t the problem, he thought. Mauser circled the runways, backtracking twice in an attempt to locate the utility shed.
On their third pass around the airport, Steele began to think they had been duped. He scanned the darkness looking for something that looked like a shed. “You see that? There,” he said, pointing at the beacon. “That must be it.” A single light flicked on and off in the distance.
“Get ready to disembark. Jarl, you and me are on bad guy duty. Everyone else make for the building.”
“Good to go,” Jarl called back.
“Incoming,” Mauser yelled. A moment later Steele found himself sitting on the lounge bench. The mobile lounge rocked back and forth as Mauser crushed the infected people below.
“Got ‘em,” Mauser called back, spitting tobacco out the window.
Steele used a handrail to pull himself upright. “Don’t fuck up our only mode of transportation, please.”
“Oh, come on, man. Gotta have a little fun with it.”
Mauser slammed on the brakes,
almost crashing into the concrete shed near the side of a runway. Tall trees stood like dark sentinels behind the little brick of a building. Acres of forest surrounded the airport, and a great deal of wildlife could be found residing within the grounds.
The building was a simple, windowless structure with a couple of antennae on top and a large steel door. The light revealed six infected people crowding close to the door. As one they faced the mobile lounge.
“We’re here,” Mauser called back, a huge ball of chew protruding from his lip.
Steele jumped down from the mover, crouching into a roll to absorb the impact. He immediately scanned his surroundings, using his flashlight to light up the trees, left and right. A large shadow landed behind him, marking the arrival of Jarl.
Their flashlights were out in an over-under flashlight-gun grip. This was the most accurate grip if the flashlight wasn’t attached to the gun, but it still wasn’t as accurate as a standard two-handed grip, because only one hand was gripping the weapon while the other held the flashlight. However, by pushing the backs of their hands together it created a semi-steady platform that was more accurate than shooting with one hand.
Steele pressed the button on his tactical light shining it in the faces of the dead. Gore splattered faces snarled at him in the night, and he unleashed a deadly barrage of single, well-aimed headshots in quick succession, driving his hips from threat to threat.
One of the ugly bastards got within a yard of Steele, baring blackened teeth. Steele disintegrated the back of his skull with a shot through the Fatal T. In a matter of seconds, the infected were loudly vanquished.
Steele and Jarl sprinted to the door and Steele placed a heavy hand down on the flat handle. The door rattled mocking them, and didn’t open. Steele pushed and pulled harder, but nothing happened. The stinking thing is locked. This has to be the right utility shed.
He looked around. There was nothing remotely like it in sight. Could there be another shed? Steele frantically pulled on the door. Unable to produce any results he turned to Jarl.
End Time Page 21
