“But I don’t have keys or access codes for the plane,” Crisp added.
Seyfert crushed his potato chip bag and threw it in a wastebasket. “You let me worry about that.” He turned to Androwski. “LT, before we go out that stack, I would like to do a little recon of my own.”
“Of course, but give it a couple of days. Heal your leg.”
“So it’s me, Rick, Dallas, and Anna.” Seyfert looked at Anna. “How are we going to stop to get Chris?”
“We find a runway,” she answered. “Wasn’t there an airfield near the garage? Didn’t you guys get that little helicopter there?”
“That was a civilian airfield. The runway was a mile at best,” Seyfert appeared thoughtful, “but the area is flat. I mean, it’s Nebraska. Shockingly, we will have to see when we get there.”
“Before this takes place, we have a more immediate problem.”
Everyone looked at Androwski.
“We need to take care of the Limas in the common room. I can hear them banging on the door at the end of the corridor.”
Indeed, muffled thumps were heard by all. The hermetic steel and fiberglass door would withstand the repeated beatings by the undead, but all things considered, the creatures were only fifteen meters away.
Wilcox cleared his throat. “We can see the common room through the monitors in the security room, right? Let’s bang on the lab security door and make some noise. Get them all in that corridor then we run out a different module door and shoot them as they come out of the corridor.” He looked at Seyfert. “Easy peasy.”
“Yeah, except we welded the other doors closed.”
“Still got the welder. It’s just tac-welded. Cut it.”
The SEALs looked at each other. “That isn’t bad,” concluded Seyfert.
“No, let’s work out the details and see if it’s feasible.”
Wilcox, Androwski, and Rick stood behind the welded door to the living quarters. Wilcox had just cut through the welds they had made prior and some creatures must have noticed or heard because they were now pounding on the other side of the door. Androwski radioed to Seyfert and he and Dallas began thumping on their door and yelling like crazy.
“How we looking, Stenner?”
Stenner peered into the security monitor, Bob sitting next to him, looking at his pistol with some awe. “Pretty good, LT. They’re moving away from your door and heading toward the hillbilly.”
Dallas yelled in his baritone voice, “Heard that!”
“How many do you count, Stenner?”
“I came up with thirty-six and thirty-three after two counts. I can see the common room, but not the corridor between it and the lab.”
“Now’s as good a time as any. Triple-check your weapons.”
When the weapons check was complete, Androwski used his fingers to count down from three. He threw the door open when the countdown expired and the three men looked on a scene from Hell. The common room looked like an abattoir. Contaminated blood covered nearly every surface. Dozens of bodies littered the floor, including the unfortunates that had been lined up by the group a few days ago, when Brooks had sealed them down here.
The parade of new walking dead had traipsed their rotting carcasses throughout the entire area, depositing portions of themselves on everything. Fluids and pieces of discolored flesh and clothing were here and there. Wilcox gagged at the stench.
The gagging was more than the things needed to alert them and they began to plod from the short lab corridor back into the common room in search of the noise. The living men opened fire slowly, methodically dropping the dead with headshots. They destroyed eleven infected before Androwski commanded that they withdraw back into the corridor to repeat the procedure. It took three hours, but they destroyed all of the undead in the common room. The three men checked every nook and cranny, including the bathrooms, but nothing lurked in the shadows. When the search was over, Androwski told Wilcox to re-weld the door they had opened. “But we would lose this area,” the kid argued.
“We’ve already lost it. There’s no way to de-con this place and where are we going to dispose of the bodies? Nobody’s coming back in here without full MOPP or a hazmat suit. Seal it up. We can figure out how to prevent the stink later, but I think the doors will keep it out. If for some crazy reason we do need to get back in here, we can just cut the welds again.”
Wilcox pulled his mask down and fired up the welder.
Seyfert threw himself onto a couch in the room that the non-scientists were about to play cards in and began rubbing his leg. “Well, you weren’t lying. There’s a shitload of Limas. I’m thinking well over two hundred. The cars are screwed too and the LAV…” He looked down. “Stark…”
“I know. It was quick though, better than what’s probably going to happen to the rest of us.”
“Right. Anyway, the critters seem to be focused on the main structure, but there are dozens just wandering aimlessly.” Seyfert stood. He grabbed the deck of cards and stacked them in the center of the table then moved a can of Coke to one side and put other single cards here and there. He produced a pen and began pointing. “This,” he indicated the deck of cards, “is the main structure. These cards are outbuildings and wrecked vehicles. The soda can is the stack I was looking out of. There’s a door at the base of the stack, here. We go at night, just after the sun goes down so we have plenty of time. We’ll need to get to the boundary fence, probably here,” he pointed the pen to what would be north of the stack, “in the woods. The main issue is we won’t be able to see very well and our NVGs are shit out of batteries.”
Bob perked up. “What kind do they take?”
“Mine take one double A,” Rick offered, “but everybody else’s takes some weird military battery.”
“Ours take the mil-specs, but they are attached to a helmet mount.” It was Seyfert’s turn to perk up. “But my IR optic takes some weird watch-type battery. Bob, tell me you have batteries!”
“Dude, I was a boy scout. Only problem is they’re up a floor. But did you try the PX? I bet they have a nice selection.”
Androwski was staring at the makeshift 3D map. “Wilcox, take Bob and go find us some batteries. Seyfert, continue with the brief.”
“Roger that. So, we’re here at the northern fence. I don’t see anybody ever having control of the exterior again, so rather than climb, we cut it and move on. If we can find a vehicle, that’s great, but if not, we hole up someplace when the sun comes up, then we get back to the coast, grab a boat, and head south to Cape Cod. LT, the map?”
Androwski handed his buddy a map of Massachusetts, which he promptly unfolded and refolded so Cape Cod was visible. “We sail south to the Cape Cod Canal and then west and then a little south to this spot here in… West Falmouth. Then we hoof it to the base. It’s under ten miles from the coast.”
“Ten miles of probable Hell,” Bob lamented as he stood to go with Wilcox.
“Agreed, but what choice do we have?”
Dallas sighed. “I’m just thinkin’ out loud here, but what if we get to the airport and there ain’t no plane?”
“Then we find some bicycles and pedal back to Alcatraz, Hillbilly. You’ve got point.”
“Ha-ha.”
“You leave in four days, if Seyfert’s leg is okay,” Androwski told them. “Get your weapons ready and stock up on ammo and food. Pack light.”
Four days went by quickly and on the morning of the day they were going to leave, by all accounts a Saturday, Rick pulled Androwski aside. “There’s one thing we didn’t discuss, LT.”
“What’s that?”
“Communications. How are we going to talk to you once we get home?”
“I was thinking about that yesterday. Let’s talk to Bob and Crisp and see if they have any equipment. I can’t believe a fallout shelter for big-wigs would have no comms.”
They found Crisp with the rest of the scientists in the lab. “We have hand-held ham radios, but they won’t work now. There is some ancient ham radio equipm
ent behind the PX.”
“And you didn’t think this was important information to tell us because…?”
“Because all the relays will be down. If you can get the system working, you might be able to contact folks to a few hundred miles. I don’t know the range, but I know it’s limited. We have a system that uses the internet and one that uses a satellite, but the internet is down and no one is controlling the satellites from the ground now. Even if the satellite is operational, it has to be in orbit above us to make use of it.”
“Unless you use the shortwave,” Ravi interjected. “Shortwave could travel across a vast distance.”
Crisp turned to Ravi. “Ravindra, do you have a ham license?”
“Yes, Arnold. I was not always a computer geek. Well, actually, I have always been a computer geek, but when I was young, my grandfather was a policeman in India. He had a shortwave radio and we used to speak to people all over the world. I found this amazing and took up the hobby for myself. I took a brief test and received my radio license perhaps ten years ago when I first came to the United States. Although it has been a very long while, I could look at your system. Thank you.”
“Would we be able to speak to McInerney?”
Androwski rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know, Rick. Of course we’ll try. Ravi, can you escape for a little while and check the radio? This is critical.”
“I believe it would be fun. Thank you for the opportunity.”
Ravi, Androwski, and Rick made their way to the PX. Rick grabbed a jar of half sour pickles from a nearby shelf and offered one to each man, both of whom accepted. They were munching their prizes when they reached a spare room at the back of the PX. The radio equipment was on a shelf with various other old machines.
“Ah, this is an old one. It has tubes!” The tall Indian man moved forward to get a better look. Androwski asked for another pickle and turned to Rick. Behind Rick, off to the side near another shelf was a dark gray piece of metal. It was out of place, leaning against the shelving. Androwski cocked his head and moved to it. He stared at it for a second before realizing it was a vent to a heating duct. He looked up and saw a gaping hole in the duct work above his head.
The alarm that went off in the SEAL’s head occurred simultaneously with a short scream from Ravi. He had reached into the shelving to appropriate the radio. When he moved it, a hand snaked through the gap and grabbed him, pulling him forward. The grip was like steel and it wouldn’t let go. Ravi struggled, but refused to release the equipment. Before either Rick or Androwski could do anything, the tall shelf pitched forward and came down on their friend. A dead man came with it and it continued to pull on Ravi, who was now pinned under the shelf.
The creature was leaning in to bite at Ravi’s exposed wrist when Rick shot it. Its head snapped to the side and then it fell forward, adding to the weight of the shelf on the unfortunate man. Rick and the SEAL pulled the dead thing off the shelf and then the shelf off of the living man.
“Thank you,” Ravi rasped and passed out.
The Embarcadero, San Francisco
“I have not seen such wanton aggression before,” uttered a modest man of indeterminate age. “My old doctor would have been overcome with delight to analyze you.” The man removed his wire glasses and pinched his nose. He looked tired. Several men stood or were seated in a warehouse office, watching what transpired.
“It is hardly wanton,” a taller man replied. “I understand your trepidations, Father, but sometimes corporal punishment is necessary to instill respect in the troops. If not, anarchy would reign and then where would we be?” The man drove a fist into the ribs of a figure hanging from the ceiling. The trussed man gave a whimper. “This fool questioned my lineage, doubted you. I would think that at the very least you would desire the respect you deserve.”
“Yes, of course. Yet we linger here when there is work to be done. The members of our little group already know who’s in charge. Let me ask you this: What do they fear most?”
“I was hoping it was me.”
“Perhaps, but think a moment. Members of rival gangs, people picked up on the street, all creeds and colors. All of them here and listening to you. All of them getting along. Not one fight since this started. That is astounding. Pure magic. I would think that one thing would scare them even more than your wrath.”
“And what is that?”
The smaller man put his glasses back on. “Banishment.”
The restrained man looked blankly at his captors through one eye, the other swollen shut from repeated beatings. The taller of the two rolled his eyes. “It means we throw you out.”
A look of fear and horror took over the captive’s face. “No! You can’t do that, Doc, please!”
“What would you have me do? I can’t have disloyalty. I won’t.” The speaker looked sad and angry at the same time.
“I’m loyal! I swear! It was just a joke! I wouldn’t have said it if I knew you were there!”
“My father is white. I am black. This is funny to you?” The man turned and looked at the others in the room. He pointed at one of them. “Is it funny to you?” He pointed at another. “Or you?” Both men vehemently nodded in the negative. He looked at a man leaning against the wall, cleaning his fingernails with a knife. “Masta G, do you take comedic pleasure in the fact that my father is a white man?”
“No.”
“So then it isn’t funny.” He turned to the trussed man. “It would seem that only you think it’s funny.”
The captive opened his mouth as if to say something, but thought better of it and kept quiet.
“Banishment. Excellent. Our new punishment for disloyalty. Pee Wee, if you would be kind enough to enforce our new policy? Remove this dolt from my sight.”
An ebony giant stepped forward, grasping the tied man by the wrists. He lifted him up slightly, releasing the captive from a jury-rigged hook. Cords in his massive arms rippling, the colossal gang-banger threw the unfortunate victim over his shoulder then moved away down a set of metal stairs. Footsteps echoed through the warehouse loft as did the pleadings of the doomed man.
The smaller man nodded. “Fine work, Doc Murda.”
“Thank you. Now if we could begin discussing the items at hand. The destruction of the submarine currently anchored off of Alcatraz and the group of survivors currently in the city that keeps outwitting my soldiers at every turn. ”
Masta G stepped forward, putting his hands on the table and pointing to a map. “That’s where I saw them. They must have just finished loading up when we got there and we would have had them if not for the crowd of infected that fell on us at that exact time. It was the same blond, scar-faced prick that I’ve seen a bunch of times.”
The smaller man perked up and walked forward, seemingly more interested.
Doc Murda looked at his captain, Masta G. “And you’re going to stick to your story?”
“Yeah. Son of a bitch had a bunch of kids with him. They were like little ninjas, the maggot-bags never even got close to ‘em. They went straight for us.”
“So my troops are being outfoxed by children.” It was a statement, not a question.
The small man spoke up. “No. They are being outwitted by a sociopath who has some kind of immunity to the dead.” Everyone looked at him, and he looked at Masta G. “This man, he has a wide scar here,” he drew a line down the right side of his jaw, “and he’s about your height?”
“That’s the dude, yeah.”
“His name is William, although he calls himself Billy. He was a resident of Morningside when I was there. Level four. Quite dangerous. He has children with him, you say?”
Masta G nodded.
“Interesting.”
“Cyrus,” asked G, “what did you mean when you said he was immune?”
“The dead don’t seem to want to consume him. I’m unsure as to why.” Cyrus looked at Doc Murda. “He could be valuable.”
“Agreed. Send the word out. This man is not to be kille
d. I want him alive. Triple rations and a full day in the brothel to whoever brings him in.”
“Unhurt,” added Cyrus.
“Indeed, unhurt. Now the sub. I’m open to ideas on how we get our substantial amount of explosives close enough to damage it.”
The men moved toward the map on the table and planning began.
Beneath Vantel Corporate Lab
The radio hadn’t been damaged. Ravi had held onto it and protected it even though the thing on the other side of the shelving was trying to eat him. It had been a miracle that nothing had been broken, either on the radio or on the man when the shelf went over. One of the metal cross members had opened a serious gash on the man’s head and Anna had cleaned and stitched it while he remained unconscious.
When Anna had completed her sewing and they left Ravi to sleep it off, (strapped to his bunk with ratcheting tie-downs), Anna asked where the thing in the PX had come from. The only thing anyone could think of was that whoever had climbed into the ductwork in the men’s bathroom weeks ago must have been infected and died in the ducts. The unfortunate man must have turned and then began searching for a way out. Seyfert acquired schematics of the ducts and they figured out that there were ways into the facility that hadn’t been thought of, but most of them were too small for a human, alive or dead, to fit through. The only ones large enough to accommodate a lurking undead were contained inside the bunker. The tubes leading to the outside were less than a foot in diameter and they all led to interior filtration systems. The inner workings, however, led from the safety of the welded bunker to the common room filled with fifty decomposing bodies. A plan would have to be put in place in order to either block up the vents, or dispose of the corpses. No ductwork led from the upper facility into the bunker, although there were power conduits that did so. All the bunker venting came directly from outside and all were filtered.
They set up the radio in the security room. A hookup to a radio tower on the surface existed in an antechamber. The installation of the radio would have taken significantly less time had Ravi been there, but he was still out cold. Seyfert and Wilcox worked on the unit for a few hours and they were finally able to transmit.
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