Rick Carter's First Big Adventure (Pete's Barbecue Book 1)

by Samuel Belcher

  “You didn’t answer me,” Rick persisted, “What are we here to do?”

  Mel put his arm on Roger to lead him down the hallway, “We’re here to start up the shield.”

  Pete grunted and groaned from the descent back to the lower levels. He never missed the elevators more than now. His old limbs were just too tired to take the continued abuse. When his feet were once again on the firm floor of the sub-level, he stopped for a moment and held onto the iron rung of the escape ladder. Everyone that had gone down before had gathered around waiting for him. The lights were dim as the generators tried to crank out enough amps to keep the blowers and chillers moving in addition to the lights, refrigeration and control areas. He looked at each face. They were expecting some word from him.

  “It’s alright, boys. You done good. Real good. De ancestors are happy.” He tried to feign a smile. It was the best he could do at the moment. He knew everyone was looking to him for answers. Most of them were confused, had no idea what was going on and probably thought the world was coming to an end or worse yet an alien invasion was taking place. He really couldn’t argue with either line of reasoning.

  Dennis clearly understood that his boss needed a moment. “Alright guys, just hold on to your weapons, we might need them again soon. Let’s grab something cold.” He began to escort the group of fighters out into the hallway and down toward the mess hall. Margaret and Tormodis stayed behind with Pete.

  “You okay, old man?” Tomodis asked, almost with the sound of actual caring in his voice.

  Pete’s attention perked up. “Yeah, boy! Ole Pete’s fine. He just got some long miles on him. Now, let’s check de control room, see what going on upstairs after we left.” He grinned.

  The control room looked much worse than when he left it. All but three of the drop ceiling tiles had fallen to the floor and on the control consoles, leaving most of the fluorescent lights dangling dangerously from stretched wires. Dust and debris covered everything. The spiders and termites were destructive, but the Abrams tank hits probably helped to dislodge things further. Pete pulled one of the broken ceiling tiles off the main console and looked over all of the active gauges. They didn’t tell him much more than he already knew. Most of the power was out, the defenses off-line, the shield was gone, and ammunition was gone. The only thing that did look hopeful was the battery reading was still at full. It would stay that way so long as the diesel generators held out. Once they quite, they had just so many hours of battery power left, and then…nothing.

  Margaret stopped and gave Tormodis a strange look. It was that look that every husband should be able to identify readily as the ‘something’s wrong’ look. “What is it?” He asked her.

  She was glancing back down the hallway. “What happened to Roger? Oh, hon, did we leave him behind?”

  Tormodis threw back his head and sighed. “Dear God.” He said in utter despair.

  “You’re going to have to go back for him.” She pleaded.

  “Me?” Tormodis said quickly, his eyes and nostrils flaring. “Why me? Since when did he become my responsibility?”

  “We promised Mel we would look after him. We can’t just leave him up there with those things.” She said in her quiet and controlled voice.

  He knew it was pointless to argue with her. He sighed again and looked at Pete standing by the monitor, oblivious to their conversation. “Should we tell him?”

  Margaret considered it for a moment. “No, just hurry. See if some of these guys will go with you. But, be careful. Port out if you have to. You can always come back for me.” She said, grabbing his hand.

  He looked deeply into her dark eyes. At that very moment, a tremendous vibration went through the sublevels and shook them violently. The lights flickered momentarily, and the dust settled down from the ceiling. They all instinctively looked up, but there was nothing to see. There was a slight pause and then it happened again, this time, more violently as it rocked hard for several minutes.

  “They’re back,” Pete said calmly as he flipped switches on the console and the floor beneath him swayed from the vibrations of the massive assault overhead. He watched the monitors, those that were clear of debris and still working and he could see the termites approaching slowly again as some spiders worked to remove the dead remains of their comrades and others pulled back the junks of concrete in the way clearing a zone for the termites to begin their job. Pete understood the conditions were worsening. He looked up at Margaret and Tormodis. “Be a dear, hun. Find Dennis, please.” Margaret shot her husband a quick glance before she bolted out of the control room and into the hallway with no clear idea of where she was going.

  Pete motioned for Tormodis. “Tor, come here!” He barked the order. “I need you to get ready to do sometin’ for me.” A plan was formulating in his ragged old head. Bits and pieces of old jobs were rolling around in there and falling together into a random pattern that was starting to take on the likeness of a very bold move.

  Rick could do nothing but follow Mel as they made their way down the hallway in the strange, eerie red light. When they came to the corner, he started to put his hand out to stop Mel, to make another effort to get him to explain his remark about starting up the shields, but a strange shuffling sound coming from behind them instantly halted all three men. They all turned at the same time to look back down where they had just come from. The emergency lights were only strong enough to illuminate about a quarter of the distance. Something was moving in the dark beyond the light. From the sound of it, it was a lot of things. They stood transfixed by the sound as it began to multiply and grow louder.

  Mel narrowed his eyes. “What in the world is that?”

  Rick readied his M4. He had no idea how many rounds he had left but hoped it would be enough, for whatever the source of the sound was. Roger was the only one of the three that instantly recognized it. “It’s the hall-walkers.” He whispered.

  Mel quickly turned to him. “The what?”

  Roger was growing increasingly agitated. He was trying to run now. “We have to go. It’s the hall-walkers!” And he bolted away, around the corner. Mel and Rick were forced to follow, not knowing where he was leading them but the chase only lasted a few seconds before Roger stopped dead at a junction in the hallways. It was a three-way junction. There was one going off to their left and one going forward. They didn’t want to go back down the one they just came from. The one forward was dark. It was completely dark. Roger hesitated. He didn’t seem to know which way to go.

  “Roger, what are we doing?” Mel asked.

  “We have to get away from the hall-walkers.” He responded.

  Rick joined in “What are hall-walkers?”

  Roger pointed into the dark just ahead of them. There in the dark shadows was movement. They could make out a lot of figures coming towards them, and they could hear the monotonous sound of the shuffling. Rick raised his gun again. This time, they came into view. There were dozens of people, young, old, men and women all dressed in ragged pajama tops and bottoms, barely able to walk, shuffling along with hollow eyes jaws hanging down and spit dripping from their open mouths. In complete unison, they all started moaning, and they reached out their arms and rushed for Mel and Roger and Rick.

  “What the hell!?” Rick yelled.

  Mel shouted “Zombies!” and he grabbed Roger by the arm and ran to their left heading down the hallway that was still clear, running at a surprisingly brisk pace. Rick was not far behind them, glancing back as he huffed his way down the hallway away from this weird new danger. They quickly came to another intersection where they instantly chose the left hallway again. When they came to another intersection, they stopped. All three of them were out of breath.

  Rick tried his best to talk, “Was that zombies?”

  Roger struggled to breathe as well, “I don’t like to call them zombies. I think its racists. I just call them hall-walkers. But, they’re bad. And if they get you they’ll take you to a bad place. They always scare me. �
��

  Mel looked around hurriedly, “I don’t get it. I thought you were the only one here.”

  “Sometimes, in my head, I go places where I’m alone,” Roger responded. “And then Rufus shows up and gets me. Rufus protects me from the hall-walkers.”

  “Let’s just keep going. We have to find the master control room.” Mel said. He chose the hallway to their right this time. It looked like it only went in one direction and it looked more official. That was, unfortunately, the only reason he chose it. About a hundred yards down they found that it too went off in three different directions. Mel was getting frustrated. They could hear the shuffling coming from somewhere behind them, off in the distance. “We are never gonna find this room like this.”

  “May I be of assistance?” Came a high pitched but clearly older voice out from the shadows to their right. They all three nearly jumped through the roof. They turned together in time to see a tall skinny figure dressed in dark clothes emerging from the shadows. His presence clearly came as a surprise but, his features and his attire were even more surprising. He wore a long black coat and a tall stovepipe hat. His face was long and drawn, and he sported a thin beard trimmed around the angles of his jaunt jaw. Rick squinted at him, not believing what he was seeing. Mel’s jaw opened, but no sounds came out. Only Roger seemed happy to see him. “Hey! It’s the guy from 178! How’d you get out?” He shook the man’s hand vigorously.

  Mel finally managed some words, “Abraham Lincoln?”

  “Indeed son,” the man replied. “We seem to have met up at an opportune time. Tell, me where is it you boys wish to go?” His voice was almost melodious. It wasn’t deep at all, which is how Rick had always imagined it, when he did imagine it that is, which wasn’t frequent.

  “Um, we need to find the main control room.” Rick stumbled.

  “Well, now that’s an easy one, boys. You just follow this hall straight down, take a right, another right and then the next two lefts. That will put you in the corridor where the main control room is.” He said, smiling and leaning ever so slightly.

  Rick reached over and sheepishly took Lincoln’s hand, almost as if he were about to touch a ghost. Instead, he found a bony man of flesh and blood. “Thank you, Mr. President.”

  Lincoln took his hand and shook it too. “No difficulty son. But, do me this one favor, if you’re able. If you happen to see my coach driver could you tell him to hurry? I fear I am late for the theater.”

  Mel grabbed Rick’s shoulder and pulled him away, down toward the direction Lincoln had indicated. “We have to go.” He said. Roger followed them, turning only to say “Thanks 178, hope everything works out good at the play.” In the shadows, Lincoln waved back.

  “I don’t know, Boss.” Dennis tried to make his objections known. “I mean what’s the load tolerances on the floors above us?”

  Pete didn’t pause. “Several thousand tons per square foot. Reinforced wid titanium rebar and two sheets of shock steel. Dat’s each subfloor. It was meant to take a missile hit an’ laugh it off, bra.” He said confidently.

  “Yeah, but what you’re suggesting hasn’t been tested before. You’re talking about a large low- yield detonation over a confined area.” Dennis replied.

  “Doesn’t matter. The floors have de means to deflect de whole ting right where we want it to go.” Pete said, and he tested the flashlight harness he was buckling around his large chest and stomach. It was the generic style H harness with a strip of powerful LED lights attached to each shoulder strap. Dennis already had his on and was holding a regular flashlight in his hand for back up. They had been discussing the merits of Pete’s plan now for ten minutes as each prepared to carry out the first phase of it. “Trust me.” He said with a more than obvious sinister tone.

  Dennis shrugged. Pete had never been wrong before, and he knew the old man would never jeopardize the lives of the survivors down below. “Well, then. Sounds like fun. What are we waiting for?” He grabbed the back pack with the C4 and hoisted it over his shoulder.

  Pete closed the flap on his back pack of detonators and motioned to Tormodis. “Tor, I got one ting to ask you.”

  “Look, I don’t know where Roger is.” Tormodis quickly responded, anticipating a question that wasn’t going to be asked.

  “What?” Pete stopped.

  Tormodis looked quickly at his wife. “Uh, nuthin’! What are you talking about?” He shot back hastily.

  “I was going to ask you how many people you thought you could port out at one time? In case tings go bad. But, what you talkin ‘bout Roger?” Pete looked concerned.

  “I wasn’t talking about Roger.” Tormodis shrugged. “I can carry four to six tops. But, I can only make about four or five rapid trips back-to-back before I get too tired.” He admitted.

  Pete looked at him for a moment, studying his features and trying to detect any hint of deception. It was written all over the young man’s face. But, the sublevels shook again with another assault and dislodged the remaining ceiling tiles. “I need you to get below and see about getting some of the elders and kids out of here.”

  “To where?” Tormodis asked.

  “Anywhere dat don’t got no spiders crawling all over it. Try to get word to de Company dat we need an immediate evac from here. Me and Dennis’ll be back as soon as we have dese planted on de first sublevel. It won’t take long.” Pete told him. “And while we gone see about findin’ Rog.” He hoisted the satchel over his shoulder, glancing at Dennis. “You ready?”

  Dennis cocked his head at him. “Are you kidding me?”

  Mel tried to lead the group in the exact direction President Lincoln had told them to go. It wasn’t as easy as he made it sound. Lincoln, apparently, was a fast talker or Mel was a bad listener. Whatever the case, Mel was having a hard time remembering everything he said. They hurried along the half-lit hallways, with the ever persistent sound of shuffling behind them. Every turn they made the shuffling seemed to come from the other direction. Rick was not anxious to run into the hall walking freaks again. He brought up the rear, always glancing behind him as he ran, his M4 at the ready. Eventually, mostly by luck, they came to the door that led into the master control room. It was a big steel door with no handle and an access control panel on the outside. It didn’t look like the kind Rick could just smash open. Mel stopped and stared at the key panel as if some magic force would open it. “We don’t have the code. “ He said, very dejected.

  “Well, do you have any ideas how to break it?” Rick asked. “Should I shoot it?”

  “No.” Mel said. “That will only cause the whole place to go into complete lock down.”

  Rick shrugged. “Worked for us the last time. Any ideas then?”

  Mel shook his head. “I got nuthin’.”

  Roger walked up and looked at the key panel. “Hey, Rufus knows how to get in.” He said, reaching into his pocket.

  Mel was losing his patience. “Rog, we don’t have time for this.”

  But Roger was already fishing something out of his pocket. When he opened his fist there in his palm, was a cockroach. He stooped down and let the cockroach go. It promptly scurried under the gap between the door and the floor.

  Rick was amazed. “Was that a cockroach?”

  Mel shrugged again, “Don’t ask me, he’s the crazy one.”

  Rick looked at Roger in doubt. “So, what now?”

  Roger was distracted, “Just give him a minute.” Sure enough, after a minute or two the cockroach reappeared. Roger leaned down and scooped him up into his hand and held it up to his right ear. After a few more moments he said, “Try a one, then a six and then an eight.” He put the cockroach back in his pocket.

  Mel entered each digit and then pressed the enter key. The door hummed electronically and then clicked open. He looked at Rick. “Well, I’ll be monkey slapped. I guess the cockroach knows what he’s doing.” He said. They all three went into the small master control room one behind the other.

  Pete hurriedly climbed b
ack down the ladder of the escape hatch, an unusual impetus motivating him to move faster than normal. He and Dennis were trying to get down to the lower levels again and the speed made him painfully aware of just how old he was and how out of shape. But, he wasn’t that concerned about his aging problems. He was concentrating instead on the deep rumbling sounds coming from overhead and the vibrations in the floor. It was a slow methodical sound, the sound of determined digging through layers of concrete and steel. His big brown hands were sweating and he was having trouble holding onto the rungs of the metal ladder. With each step he listened to the sound of hundreds of acid spewing termites rip through the floors like they were paper. At this rate it wouldn’t be long until they broke through. What their objective was, he couldn’t guess. It made no sense to him. The rest of the island was theirs for the taking now. It was wide open and ripe, but instead, they were focusing all of their efforts on the Honey Pot. Clearly there was a reason. But, things being what they were, time wasn’t on Pete’s side and he didn’t have the luxury of trying to figure out their motives. The explosives were placed in the ceiling of the first sublevel, the fuel lines had been opened and gas was flooding the floors above him, valuable fuel for the generators below sacrificed for a last ditch act of desperation that might not even work. The frequency detonator was strapped to his belt, waiting for the right combination of signals to set off the biggest light show Guam had ever seen.

  Pete looked up at Dennis above him. He was also listening intently to the deep vibrations and the shaking. “We got no eyes, bra. We blind and sittin’ ducks.” Pete said.

  Dennis stopped and looked down at his boss. “I don’t get it.” He finally admitted. “What are they doing?”

  Pete stopped too, grateful for the respite. “Digging. It won’t be long.”