Legacy of the Living

by Sean Liebling

  "Oh, I certainly agree, Captain." Sergeant Meredith was quick to add. "I did not mean we were not making a difference. I guess what I really meant is that I wish we were quite larger, and could more substantially help. Oh hell, Ma'am. What I really mean is, I wish things were back to normal." He had leaned forward while speaking, and slumped back in his seat as he finished.

  "Yes Sergeant, I agree. I also wish the world was back to normal, but there is no going back. We can't reverse time, and at least ninety-seven percent of the old population is dead or turned into zombies. Our job, as the commander laid out, is to try to save as many of those remaining three percent as possible."

  "Yes, Ma'am."

  "You’re going with the commander. You are sure you know how to set up the Sat uplink?"

  "Piece of cake, Ma'am. I've done it before. Don't worry."

  "Alright Sergeant. Let's go over the fire system protocols again, since you already have extensive computer systems training. You'll probably need them for diversions. And don't forget Halon release. The commander and those with him will need as many distractions as possible to pull people away from their location. I'll be too absorbed with hacking their mainframe once you insert the worm virus."

  "Good idea, Ma'am. Here we go," and Sergeant First Class Norman Meredith started the simulation Captain Rider had created of the group's headquarters in Ohio. She watched with a soft smile as he worked hard. She was impressed with this man and enjoyed having someone with true intelligence to work with.

  *****

  The commander was safely tucked away in his quarters as Lieutenant Purcell shook hands with Master Sergeant Trask. They had regrouped at the commander's personal residence for a very specific and important reason.

  "You ready to do this, Sir? I have the two men we discussed waiting outside." Trask was all about being up front and direct in his communication.

  "Yeah Top, let's do it."

  They were currently inside the commander's home, and alone. The residence was now vacant, with one exception, as there were other homes closer to the complex with even better protection. That would soon change as Newaygo continued their outer fire zone ring, enclosing the entire city and much of the surrounding countryside while bringing in even more survivors.

  The exception to the vacant home was the prisoner still being held in one of the outbuildings midway back on the governor's property. It was a secret very few knew, and they would keep it that way. He had been captured during the early days of the apocalypse while commanding a Marine Corps intelligence unit that was replacing communications boards in solar-run cellular towers. His mistake was in attacking an armed convoy of the United States Army and two ex-Marine snipers. He was also their only living source of information on the shadow government, and someone who had been in both the Ohio and Vermont facilities. Now they needed floor plans for those facilities and time was of the essence.

  "Do you have any idea how many human rights violations we're about to commit?" said Lieutenant Purcell, grinning at Top as he rubbed the palms of his hands together briskly.

  "Again," Master Sergeant Darin Trask murmured.

  "Having second thoughts, Master Sergeant?"

  "Nope. They caused all this shit and that's the greatest human rights violation of all. I do not know why the bad guys constantly underestimate our resolve and how ruthless we can be when fucked with, Lieutenant, but they do, and frankly it's depressing that they forget so frequently."

  "I don't either, but it's in our heritage. Probably something psychological, and honestly I slept through all those classes at college. He wouldn't say anything, right?"

  "No, not when I questioned him earlier. Profanity was the gist of our conversation. That's why these men are here to help," and Master Sergeant Trask nodded at the two men who had accompanied them. Both stood there, watching the shed, one carrying a large satchel. These men had been trained to extract information by whatever means necessary, and they were very good at their job. Together the four walked to the shed and the four guards standing duty there.

  "Then let's get it done. My bed is waiting," Lieutenant Purcell said as he pulled open the unlocked door and entered. The shed was sparsely furnished with a table and four chairs. A man sat on the floor with his back to the wall, heavy chains fastened around his wrists and ankles to stakes driven four feet into the ground with sledgehammers.

  The prisoner looked at them as they entered and glowered.

  "I told you before I'm not saying anything. We will prevail."

  "No you won't. Your group is already losing, and you will tell us what we need to know. It's pretty simple," Lieutenant Purcell replied back as his grin widened.

  "The Order has just begun, you fools. You have no idea what assets we have. You will soon be annihilated."

  "Sure, we already know you have tactical nukes, just not how many. That's on our list of questions." The statement caught their prisoner by surprise and he began to look unsure, and perhaps a little scared. "First though, we'll need the floor plans of both facilities." The prisoner glared at them but this time remained silent.

  "Where would you like us to begin, Sirs?" One of the men with them had finally spoken as he set his satchel down and stared at the prisoner.

  "Feet and legs first. We need to keep his hands whole until he draws the maps. Gag him so the noise won't be heard outside the property and only remove it it he looks like he'll talk." Lieutenant Purcell tossed a large sketchpad down on the table along with a bundle of at least forty freshly sharpened pencils, then accepted the laptop Master Sergeant Trask had been holding and, turning it on, pulled up the document he had started earlier. On it were a myriad of questions they expected to get answers to. He then pulled up one of the chairs on the other side of the table and sat down to type while Master Sergeant Trask leaned against the far interior wall.

  The other of the two men never spoke. Instead, he reached into the now open satchel, removing a small ball peen hammer, and before the prisoner could scurry away after being gagged, brought it down hard and fast ...

  Less than two hours later, Purcell and Top left with the six soldiers after locking the shed. The guards were no longer needed as the prisoner had not survived the interrogation. Not only had he answered all their questions before he expired, he had also provided information they’d never thought to ask. The additional information was the price demanded to end his pain.

  "Whoa, this is a buttload of intel, Top." Lieutenant Purcell patted the laptop and filled sketchpad he carefully carried.

  "Yes Sir, I wish we’d known what questions to ask the last time. Pretty sure he told us everything he knew this time, though."

  "Yes, it was obvious he was making things up near the end. Say, do we tell the commander about..." Lieutenant Purcell's voice drifted off, and Darin shrugged.

  "I don't see a point, really, unless he specifically asks. He'll know where and how we obtained the information as soon as he hears of it. He’s far from stupid, though, so I doubt he'll ask questions."

  "He sure is. I'll get this to Sergeant Meredith and have him get this typed up for the commander and begin making properly marked maps tonight so we'll have them tomorrow before we leave. Night, Top."

  "You too, Sir," replied Master Sergeant Trask as he proceeded to the home he shared with his beloved Jessica and their two boys.

  *****

  "Where is Don?" Doctor Lynch snarled at the young woman operating the communications console.

  "I don't know sir. He's not answering the satellite communications at the Ohio facility nor his satellite phone. I'm really trying but they say they don't know where he is!" she pulled away from him in fear.

  "Then use your imagination in getting him to answer. Stress that I'm getting rather angry." Lynch retorted angrily.

  "Sir, I can't force him to answer." she snapped back.

  Doctor Lynch rounded on her, his sinewy hand reaching out to grip her shoulder tightly as he swiveled her around to face him and leaned close.
r />   "Your Cynthia's replacement correct?" he murmured.

  "Yes sir," she gulped, afraid to be so close to this man.

  "She won't be back you know. She became a tedious hindrance to me. Be sure you don't find yourself in her footsteps. Remember you still have children so perhaps you should find a way to convince Don to return my calls. Connie isn't it?" The smile on his face grew feral and she shuddered. "You're actually very pretty, Connie. Perhaps we should get to know each other better. Your predecessor was quite fond of my attention." Connie pulled further back and wrenched her shoulder out of his grasp as she sputtered.

  "My husband would not appreciate you putting your hands on me Doctor Lynch, and I know Cynthia was not 'quite fond of your attention' as you put it." Cynthia's husband was a team leader of a deep reconnaissance team and was currently listed as missing. "I do my job here and that's it sir!" Connie stressed her last sentence as she glared at him. She wondered what might have happened to Cynthia for her friend had not returned to the woman's quarters two nights back. Speculation of Cynthia's whereabouts had run wild with rumors abounding of her demise, though none proven.

  "I see." Doctor Lynch took a step back and examined her carefully. Then he smirked and leaned close to her again while whispering. "Your husband may not always be around Connie. Just like Cynthia Anderson's." Then he turned and left, striding purposely from the primary communications center. She shuddered again and wished her replacement would arrive so that she could talk to her husband down in Ohio. She missed him terribly. She also missed their two children who were in the children's ward. All the mothers and children had been separated shortly after arrival because of the limited living quarters. She still saw them daily but it wasn't enough and she was scared for them. She had also noticed this morning that Cynthia's boys were no longer in the ward where her own two were housed. A simple inquire had elicited cold blank stares from the staff so she did not pursue it.

  Connie looked up as her replacement tapped her on the shoulder. It was time to call her husband now that she was off duty for the night. Personal calls were handled at another area of the underground facility at the communications center designed strictly for personal calls between facilities, whereas the center Connie worked in was a data and streaming communications center that tied all the worldwide New World Order facilities together. It was also used as the main report center for higher ups within the organization.

  Hurrying down the brightly lit wide corridor outside the room containing her assigned workstation, Connie passed another fellow inmate, as they were starting to call themselves. Sue was short and older in her mid fifties with mostly iron-grey hair. Sue had been and still was part of the housekeeping staff at the Vermont facility and usually cleaned the surgical suites and morgue after autopsies. Normally she was all business and never even glanced at soldiers dependents even if the dependents were in positions higher than she was. Tonight she gave Connie a look, half pleading and half sorrow before lowering her head as she scurried past. Connie stilled the automatic impulse to say good night and just stared at Sue's retreating back before she heard other footsteps coming from around the corner.

  Oh my God, who now? thought Connie. No! After her encounter with Lynch earlier she was not looking for a repeat performance and didn't want to lose her temper again. Quickly she slid behind several double-stacked columns of pallets containing supplies that lined most of the corridors within the facility. She would hide there until Doctor Lynch passed, then continue to the call center and speak with her husband. Peering outward between the gap created by one pallet sitting on another she realized it was simply two of the medical researchers and breathed a sigh of relief preparing to exit her hiding place when she heard them talking. She froze for their words were not those she never thought to hear.

  "Well that was a waste of time Burt. The doctor needs to go back to the drawing board I'm starting to think. It only took the mice to die this time." said the first as he turned to his partner. Both stopping in the center of the hallway.

  "I agree with you. The premise seems sound but the methodology of his extraction process seems to be lacking the right combination" spoke the other.

  "Well it could be the Anderson boys were euthanized before we received them for extraction. I'm wondering if the extraction process should be performed while their still viable subjects."

  Connie's eyes grew wide, she felt bile rise in her throat, and frantically she stilled the automatic impulse to throw up as she continued to listen.

  "Good idea. Let's propose it to the Doctor in the morning shall we?"

  In horror, Connie watched as both researchers smiled at each other then continued their journey down the corridor away from her. Several long minutes later after getting herself under control, she was able to slide from behind the pallets and practically ran to the call shack as it was called. She needed to let her husband know that they were all in immediate danger and she ran because her call times were strictly regulated with a ten-minute limit.

  Connie Locke straightened as she wiped the last vestiges of tears from her eyes, then swung the door open entering the call shack.

  *****

  Epilog

  Slowly I sipped my Red Stag whisky as I relaxed in the recliner facing the plate glass window in my new bedroom. Through its clear pane, the stars outside shown cold and bright, as behind me Cara and LSS slept soundly. They had given me a more than proper sendoff earlier, for which I was grateful. I had wrestled the children until they all fell asleep in my arms, then wrestled my girls until I finally had to beg off, needing to get some rest before morning. Then I held them until I heard their breathing soften as they, in turn, fell asleep. Now, warm whisky burning down my throat and with a disturbing new intelligence report in my hand, I was sitting there contemplating our job that had barely begun.

  I had gone downstairs to grab a quick shower, and on the way back stopped at the duty shack to grab any recent reports. I was exhausted from the day's events and the roughhousing, but could not sleep. There I saw the latest intelligence in my 'eyes only' inbox and grabbed it. By the time I reached my bedroom, I had read enough to grab the half full bottle of whisky and pour myself a strong one as I continued through its pages.

  The first was a satellite transmission from Major Robinson. Their EC-130 had tracked the helicopter bearing Jean to the secret base in the Ohio National Forest, the base we already knew about but it was nice to have confirmation of tomorrow night's destination. Then the news became grimmer.

  This shadow government had eleven tactical nuclear missiles left from the eighteen they had initially acquired, one which had been used on Fort Campbell and six on combined loyal government forces in and near Texas which had also refused to surrender. The bad news was that the prisoner had no idea where the missiles were being kept, and the only good news was that they had no access to our ICBM arsenal as the President had ordered their crews to scuttle the missiles and go home to their families as he lay on his deathbed. By that time half the world was already dead, and it would be generations if not longer before a significant threat made their need necessary, if ever.

  I found out other military units were still alive but understrength, with most trying to help survivors in their respective areas. I did not know how many general officers might still be alive, if any, as that information had not been included. Oh, I knew whom they’d acquired this information from, and the little penned note at the bottom of the last page told me that the asset was no longer among the living. I was okay with that. These were tough times and I had a feeling only the most determined would survive to lead the survivors to ultimate victory. Whatever form that ultimate victory might take.

  Another penned note indicated that mostly complete floor plans for the Ohio facility and for Vermont were being prepared by Sergeant First Class Meredith, with emergency exits marked and probable guard routes with schedules as best our prisoner could remember. It was enough, and more than I had expected. I couldn't wait to get the d
etailed report from Major Robinson in the morning on their debrief of Dr. Samuel Thomas of the CDC, and a rundown of the files he was able to copy. I would read that in between my normal activities and getting ready to head out, as we prepared to put another kink in the shadow government’s plans.

  Tomorrow there would be no school for the kids, as I was going to keep them near me all day engaged in the activities Cara had planned for us. I would cherish each and every moment of tomorrow, as we were scheduled to leave at nightfall. I hadn't dared tell them about their mother, my ex-wife. I had learned on the drive back from Alethea, who was in charge of that biker gang down in Grand Rapids, that Butterworth and everyone in it were dead from a massive break-in of zombies. Whether the ex-wife numbered among them, I did not yet know, but it was likely. We would be sending two Black Hawks down to support them in the morning, and I would send with them a recent family picture of Caitlin for identification purposes along with a list of identifying birth marks and scars she’d had. Alethea had promised to personally go through the bodies and verify one way or the other if Caitlin was among them.

  We would also help in setting up shortwave transmitters and receivers at all the survivor group locations so that we could talk to each other on the twenty-meter band instead of the relay system they had. Groups of humanity would no longer be alone to face the hordes of undead. We would be together as one with mutual support.

  *****

  "So how do you like your new quarters, bitch!" Don snarled down at Jean, as she lay shackled to the metal prison bed. She had been stripped completely naked, then thrust into this cell while male guards stared at her. Several hours later, four of the guards had entered and had quickly shackled her spread-eagled to the bed despite her protests. When Don entered, she knew why they had taken that precaution. It just pissed her off that the cuffs were too tight and her legs spread too far apart to close her knees all the way. Sure enough, her bared sex was the first thing he looked at as he approached, and that just made her madder.