President Clay ran her fingers through her shoulder length black hair. The last time she dared look in a mirror she had noticed an abundance of new ‘grays’ no doubt brought on by her rapid ascension to the office of President and the toll two short weeks of hell had taken on her.
Mount Saint Helens, Mount Rainier and the Gifford Pinchot wilderness area of her home state of Washington had been on her mind all morning. Missed were the fragrant tall pines, clean air, and abundant wildlife.
Screw the radiation, she said to herself. This was no way to live; cooped up with a million tons of rock parked directly over her head made her feel no different than one of those things on the monitor. No—she was still alive—and she had made up her mind.
She called in her senior Secret Service Agent Adam Cross. The former Special Forces operator, with multiple combat deployments under his belt, had been on her protection detail since she was Speaker of the House. Now as President of the United States her armed entourage had doubled in size, surrounding her everywhere she went. Agent Cross was fiercely loyal. He would not only take a bullet for her, the tall blonde shooter would also get in the way of a Z bite for her.
The President sprang her ambush the second Agent Cross entered the low-ceilinged war room. “I’ve thought this over six ways from Sunday,” she said confidently. “I’m going to go... I can still make it in time if we hustle. Get the flight crew ready, I want to be wheels up in five—that is an order.”
Cross hailed the Osprey crew who were suited up and standing by on Alert 5—which meant they were ready to go and could be airborne in less than five minutes. The Marine Major and the rest of her four-man crew jumped at once and were in the elevator heading to the surface in under a minute.
“With all due respect, Madam President, I recommend you stay inside until we have a better handle on the effects of the blasts.”
Silence.
Cross bent at the waist to get the willful President’s eye. “Valerie...” The agent instantly regretted using the President’s first name. They were close—but not that close. “Madam President, will you at least give us a chance to take a few more hourly readings?”
President Clay said nothing. She stood and stretched, popping several vertebras in the process then asked, “What did the latest readings tell us?”
Before answering, Cross briefly glanced at the lower right corner of the flat screen display where, topside, the crew of the Osprey was busy scurrying about the flat black aircraft performing routine preflight inspections. Then after a few seconds the dual thirty-eight foot rotors started to spin. “The rad levels outside have inched up a bit since last night’s reading. But keep in mind the location is static... it’s on top of the mountain and subject to deviation. To get a better idea of the radiation levels north and east of Cheyenne and most importantly so that I can ensure your safety, I recommend that an advance team be sent out.”
The President made a face. “You crossed your T’s and dotted your I’s... your concern is duly noted, Adam. I do appreciate the fact that you have your job to do—”
“I sense there is a but coming,” Cross said with a grimace.
Silence.
As if she were about to pray, the President placed her palms together on the darkened glass-topped control panel. “I’m going to make an appearance—even if it ultimately kills me.”
It might kill us all, Agent Cross thought to himself. He shifted his weight uncomfortably, causing his concealed MP7 to brush against his ribs, a subtle reminder of the predicament he was in. ‘The principal must be protected at all times from each and every threat’—went through his head. His instructors at the James J. Rowley training center in Maryland had repeated the mantra during every waking moment of his training. Hell, for all he knew they probably played it through hidden speakers as he and the other recruits slept. And each time he had been forced to compromise this basic tenet—which rarely happened—he was left questioning everything he stood for. That the radiation was invisible and odorless elevated it to a level of danger on par with the creatures outside of the wire.
But, orders were orders and Valerie was the Commander in Chief and he would follow her orders to a T.
Cross snapped to attention and adding a positive spin on their departure said, “At least the prevailing winds are cooperating.” After pausing for a beat he finished, “They’re tracking strongly from West to East which is stellar news for anyone this side of ground zero.”
After an affirming nod the President grabbed her olive drab flight jacket and, with a satisfied look on her face, pushed past her six-foot-three inch body guard and strode purposefully through the doorway.
“President Clay,” Cross said, calling after her. “I have to insist that you put on your vest.”
Silence answered him, so he grabbed the vest and hastened after her.
Chapter 4
Outbreak - Day 10
Schriever AFB
Colorado Springs, Colorado
As Cade traversed the base, his thoughts quickly turned to Annie Desantos and her kids. He had already fulfilled Mike’s first request, and that final act, difficult as it was, had stopped his friend from reanimating and coming back as a zombie. The second promise had been mutually decided upon years ago after one especially deadly firefight in Afghanistan. Both men had vowed to take care of the other’s family should one of them go MIA or fall in battle. Desantos fulfilled his part of the bargain while Cade was travelling from Portland, Oregon on his desperate search for Brook and Raven during those first days of the Omega outbreak. Now, with Desantos’ passing, it was Cade’s turn to step up and reciprocate.
***
Desantos’ family billet
Annie yanked open the door before Cade could announce his presence, wrapped her arms around the startled operator and began to sob. For several long minutes he returned the embrace as a soul wrenching sound emanated from deep within the new widow.
Annie finally released her grip and Cade spoke first. “I’m sorry Annie. I did everything in my power to help Mike.” He stopped in order to compose himself. With tears wetting his cheeks he continued. “Mike was gone the second he got bit. He mentioned the girls as soon as it happened... all of you were on his mind when he succumbed to the virus.”
“Did he mention Mike Jr.?” Annie asked, probing for fresh memories of Mike Senior to pass on to his only son.
“This is for him,” Cade said, handing Annie her husband’s Luminox wristwatch. “And these are for the girls.”
Annie held her palm out and received the two well-worn dog tags.
“He always had good things to say about his family. When I settle down... no idea when that’ll be,” Cade said, shaking his head slowly while looking directly in Annie’s eyes. “I’ll sit down and put my recollections on paper. Mike Jr. and the twins will know who their Dad was and how the sacrifices he made saved their lives and the countless lives of others.”
Annie stretched her shirt sleeve and dried her eyes with the rumpled cuff. “What now...?”
Cade spoke softly. “We take things one day at a time. If you need anything just ask. Brook and Raven could take care of the kids... to give you some time to think things through... or you might move closer to our billet. Whatever works.”
“How am I going to break it to the twins?”
“Be honest. They will thank you later. That’s not coming from me... that’s Mike talking. At least that’s what he said to me more times than I can count.”
“When can I see him?”
“He didn’t want anyone to see him in that bad a shape, especially his loved ones.” Cade paused, made eye contact, then continued speaking. “The virus... it does awful things to the human body... it shuts down the organs first. Mike was suffering horribly. That’s the stage he was going through when I... when I...” Cade sighed. “I didn’t think I had it in me.”
Annie intuitively knew what Cade had been forced to do. “Shhh, it’s all right Cade,” she said softly, pulling
him down to her level and cradling his head with the crook of her arm. “He had nothing but the utmost respect for you. In fact he loved you like a son, Cade. My Mike would’ve done the same thing for you... without hesitation”
The words sounded good but did little to assuage the guilt he carried. Cade had been manning the top machinegun and was turned around watching their six when Desantos was attacked. Cade felt that somehow, in a small way, he had let his commander down and having this conversation with Annie Desantos made him feel lower than a snake’s belly. Furthermore, he hated the idea of watching the kids grow up without a dad.
He checked his emotions. “Brook and Raven will be by within the hour to escort you and the kids to the funeral.”
Annie was on the verge of breaking down again when the troop of raucous kids blew into the room. Sierra and Serena led the pack, with the young Russian boy Dmitri close on their heels.
Raven filed in last cradling Mike Jr. protectively. She beamed and bounced at the knees, up and down rhythmically, soothing the swaddled infant. “See Aunt Annie, I’m supporting his head. Take notes ‘cause I’m gonna be ready when my little brother or sister gets here.”
“Raven, give Junior to Aunt Annie and come along. You too Dmitri...” Cade barked.
Annie needed some time alone with her kids. And what she did with that time was hers alone to decide.
***
A remote corner of Schriever Air Force Base
In the early morning hours the day after his death, Mike Desantos was put into the earth. The newly promoted General Ronnie Gaines, Cade and the remaining two members of Mike’s Delta team, Lopez and Maddox, took turns carving the grave into the near bulletproof high desert soil.
Cade had singled out the site which was near Schriever’s southwestern perimeter for its commanding views of Cheyenne Mountain, Pikes Peak and the rest of the Rockies rambling further off to the north.
Half a dozen Zs, mostly first turns, loitered on the other side of the twelve-foot tall chain link fence. Pacing back and forth, the monsters emitted their raspy cat calls coveting the meat just out of reach.
Annie Desantos tried her best to ignore the abominations as she comforted the fussing Mike Jr. Although impossible, it seemed the newborn somehow knew his dad was gone, or, more than likely, he could sense his mom’s growing unease. Sierra and Serena stood, shoulders touching and heads bowed. The eight-year-old twins knew what the word die meant; they just hadn’t yet grasped death’s finality. Raven pressed against Brook, holding tight, one arm wrapped around her waist. Brook stood beside Annie, ready to provide emotional support and lend a shoulder to cry on if needed.
By the time the grave was six feet deep, Ari Silver, Durant, Hicks and a handful of other operators from the 10th Special Forces had all logged shovel time.
As the soldiers lowered the stainless steel coffin into the shadowy gash hewn in the red earth, a noise like a million buzzing ceiling fans reverberated from the general direction of downtown Springs.
At once the low murmur of respectful voices ceased and all eyes cast across the desert towards the southwest.
Cade squinted, trying to identify the approaching black speck on the horizon.
“Looks like POTUS had a change of heart,” Shrill yelled over the cacophony of the rapidly approaching aircraft. Then his right hand snapped up and he held the crisp salute. Lady sure knows how to make an entrance, he thought to himself.
Surrounded by a tempest of swirling dust and airborne debris, Major Ripley settled Marine One on a plat of sand and coarse rock a safe distance from the funeral goers. Ripley spied the brass and cursed—sandblasting a General, a Colonel, and a Major with rotor wash was the last thing she needed.
“Wheels down Madam President,” she said over the intercom as the rear deck motored down.
Silenced MP7s materialized from under windbreakers as Agent Cross and three other Secret Service agents went out ahead of the President. Puffs of dust marked their footsteps and they closed the distance to the pack of walkers.
***
“Cover your eyes girls,” Annie said to the twins. Knowing their innocence was the only thing remaining from their old lives, she vowed to preserve it at all costs.
Following their mom’s orders, Sierra and Serena put hands to face without complaint.
Raven angled for a good view of the men who had just emerged from the strange hybrid helicopter. As she looked on, the agents efficiently put down the zombies with near silent rapid-fire double taps to the head.
“Efficient,” Brook noted quietly to herself.
***
Colonel Shrill unlocked both access gates and let the President and her detail inside. Then after pausing to exchange salutes with the assembled soldiers, airmen, and brass, President Clay made her way around the open grave and approached the grieving families.
She offered her condolences to Brook, then stopped in front of Annie and the girls. After matching the widow’s gaze for a few silent moments, the President felt her composure begin to crumble. Although she had ordered herself not to cry, once she saw the sorrow reflected in Annie’s and her girls’ eyes she had no defense and the tears started flowing. She wiped her eyes, calmed herself, and then took a spot near Annie’s elbow.
Alongside Mike’s well-worn combat boots, his M4 stood at attention, barrel pointed ground ward, bayonet piercing the earth. The operator’s desert tan tactical helmet and goggles appeared abandoned, resting atop the rifle’s fully collapsed butt stock.
Colonel Cornelius Shrill saluted first. His white gloved right hand snapped crisply to the spit polished black visor on his service cap. Major Freda Nash and the rest of the soldiers followed suit with crisp textbook salutes of their own.
The remainder of the final Delta team which Cowboy had led into battle, along with the Ghost Hawk crew that had ferried them into hell’s maw, seven men in all, hoisted black SCAR rifles to their shoulders and fired a single volley. After repeating the ritual three consecutive times the solemn twenty-one gun salute concluded, leaving the lonely corner of the airbase cloaked in silence. And then quietly, each lost in their own thoughts, the soldiers took turns shoveling dirt onto the coffin.
“Cowboy deserves more than this anonymous patch of dirt in the corner of a fucking Air Force base,” Lopez stated angrily. “Vaquero deserves a grande statue in his honor.”
“I agree with you Lopez. But you and I both know that no one’s going to be laid to rest in Arlington anytime soon,” Cade stressed. “This is the best that I could do on such short notice.”
“I concur Boss, I saw Washington D.C. with my own eyes from a Black Hawk at five hundred feet. Nothing but walking demonios there now,” Lopez said as he performed the sign of the cross.
Drawn in by the Osprey’s arrival and the ritual gunfire, two more walkers arrived outside the wire. As the chaplain began his only prayer, one of the Zs emitted a low plaintive wail as if to protest the Catholic ritual.
Leaving Brook’s side, Cade broke ranks and double-timed it to the fence, drawing his Glock along the way. Then with his arm outstretched, the semiautomatic pistol bucked rapidly four times. Before the sharp reports subsided, the two rotting interlopers hinged over and crashed to the desert floor dead for the second time.
Cade trudged the twenty yards and regained his spot between his wife and daughter.
The chaplain surveyed those in attendance before reciting the final petition prayer. “May his soul and the souls of all the faithful departed through the mercy of God rest in peace.”
Cade closed his eyes in order to reflect on the events that had occurred over the last few days. Adhering to Mike’s wishes by not allowing Annie and the twins a chance to see his corpse was one the most difficult and conflicting orders Cade had ever been asked to follow. That he did so without hesitation was a testament to the high regard he held the man even in death.
Mike Desantos abhorred attention, shunned the limelight, and never accepted accolades; instead he deflected any prai
se onto his men. It was his opinion that war stories were for drunks and liars. He told Annie he didn’t want the words of warriors spoken at his funeral and she made it known ahead of time to everyone present that the twenty-one gun salute and a simple prayer would be sufficient.
In the end, tucked away in the corner of Schriever Air Force base, the square patch of dirt with sweeping vistas proved to be a fitting final resting place for the larger than life operator. Mike ‘Cowboy’ Desantos, consummate professional, doting dad, and loving husband would be missed by all in attendance.
***
Cade stopped the Cushman outside of the mess hall. “Are you sure you want to walk to Annie’s from here?”
Patting her carbine Brook answered, “We’ll be alright.”
“C’mon Mom I’m starved,” said Raven, pulling her mom towards the door.
Aren’t we all, Brook thought. Over the last two days the slop the cooks were trying to pass off as food had been barely edible.
“Can I bring you back something Dad?”
“No sweetie. I’ve got it covered,” Cade replied. “And I won’t be in until after lights out... so don’t wait up.”
“Do we ever?” Brook intoned.
A Pound of Flesh: Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse Page 3
