Steele ground his jaw. It sent pain through his healing skull. He refused to give into the things that could go wrong, and he looked at all of the things he had on his side. He was an excellent marksmen and had extensive fighting experience. I’ve got an ally. I’ve got surprise. That counts for something. It will be enough. It has to be enough.
The two men let the sun dip behind them, and he took a pair of binoculars from Kevin and gazed over the camp.
Kevin spoke, his voice a small whisper. “What do you see? Is Puck there?”
Steele scoured the scene below. Six small log cabins sat quietly on the hill. A man and a woman walked together. The man chased the woman into a cabin and closed the door.
“He’s big. Like six-foot-six or seven. Had a black beard the last time I saw him,” Kevin whispered. He rubbed his jaw and squinted as he watched the camp.
“Last time you saw him?” Steele asked.
“Yeah, ya know. Around town,” Kevin said quickly.
A few men walked along the perimeter, but they weren’t big enough.
“Nah, I don’t see him,” Steele said.
“That’s good. He’s a real asshole,” Kevin said. Steele pried his eyes away from the scene.
“I don’t care what he is, if he has Gwen, he’s a dead man,” Steele said.
“He’s a cruel bastard. I’m not sure you understand.”
“I don’t care.”
Scanning, he saw two distilling sheds, partially covered with woodland camo tarps; must be where they cooked up their moonshine. The tarps would prevent anybody who happened upon the camp from seeing the sheds. There was some sort of large hole on the far end of the camp. A few nightly bonfire pits. He stopped studying with his binoculars as he came across two men.
“There, in the middle.” He handed Kevin the binoculars, who placed them up to his eyes.
“I see ’em. Two tied-up guys.”
“That washed-up, shirtless ginger with the tattoos chained to the pole is my friend Mauser. And that asshole next to him is Ahmed.”
“Asshole?” Kevin inquired.
“Not my favorite acquaintance,” Steele said.
I hate him, but if he shows me where Gwen is, I’ll kiss him. I swear it. He rolled his eyes to the sky. You hear that, Big Guy? You can hold me to it.
The faint crunch of leaves and clumsy feet in the trees below rolled up the mountainside. Kevin pointed out with his free hand. Steele took the binoculars back. Two infected approached the camp. They felt their way through the trees, exhausted and soulless.
Nobody ran. Everyone continued about their hill business. A man stood almost thirty feet from where they walked. Steele was sure the moonshiners could see the dead. He felt the “pucker effect” knowing that he was about to watch a man be murdered by the dead. The dead picked up their pace a fraction when they saw the man.
One of the infected tangled himself in a near invisible barbwire. It struggled with the impediment, wrapping himself up in it like a spider web. The barbs tore its skin, hooking its flesh. The other crawled through the wire and got back on its feet. Steele tracked it as it marched, and with a single arm reached out for the nearest moonshiners. The moonshiner in the t-shirt didn’t even react. The infected collapsed face first into a ditch. Interesting trap.
“I have an idea for the morning. I’m going to need your help. Do you have a pair of running shoes?” Steele said with a grin.
Kevin’s eyes flared. “I’m not going into the camp.” Kevin crossed his arms across his chest.
“You won’t have to. You’ll be just fine.”
GWEN
Backbone Peak, WV
Gwen lay on the stinking bed. A brownish-yellow stain stretched over the mattress, reaching for her. The damp and dirty mattress lumped up into her hip, leaving her back in perpetual discomfort. Her hands were stretched above her head and cuffed to the rusted heavy metal frame. She clinked her wrist over the flaking metal frame in a futile effort to free herself.
She bent her neck backward to get a look at her restraints. Grasped in her hands, was her bent, warped picture. She longed for the captured moment in time. Why can’t I be back there?
Drunken laughter filled the night, pummeling her will. Puck’s big-bellied hoot roared above the others. They didn’t seem to care that the infected might hear them. The fools will draw the dead right in on us.
She sat upright, her arm awkwardly stretched behind her. How are we going to get out of this? I’ve got to have a plan. Her eyes searched the cabin for anything that could be used as a weapon. Wood sat in a pile near the fireplace. If I can get something to smash over his head, then I could escape. But these jackasses know these woods and these mountains, and we would be bringing along injured people. Doesn’t matter. I can’t wait here only to die.
She pulled on the bed. It rattled as it moved. The heavy metal frame weighed down the whole thing. Grunting with exertion, she yanked on her cuffs, dragging the bed a tough inch. The wood pile jeered her from several feet away.
“Come on, you stupid thing,” she whispered. She strained with effort. The bed groaned under her pressure. She stopped when the laughter ceased. The silence enveloped her; the lack of voices froze her in time. Why aren’t they laughing?
The door of the cabin creaked open. Oh my God. A giant squeezed in through the doorway. The frame looked for more space. She shouldered the bed back and took a side roll into it. She wrapped herself into a ratty blanket, her handcuffs running along the frame. Holding her breath, she waited.
“See you tomorrow,” he called out. “Owen, don’t forget to watch the fences,” he slurred.
The cabin door latched closed, and he lumbered across the floor, each heavy step causing the floorboards to grumble loudly in protest. He couldn’t have seen me. She held her breath, but it forced itself out of her chest.
Her heart thundered. Will he do it this time? She squeezed her eyes closed, trying not to breathe too hard. Please leave me be. Don’t touch me.
The flimsy mattress gave way to the large man as he lay down next to her. The bed bowed in the middle. She could feel the heat running off his body. He ran a robust finger down her shoulder. Her skin crawled beneath his touch, and she flinched as he flicked away the shoulder strap of her gown, letting it fall limply down her arm. No, please, she thought. Not like this.
The mattress complained beneath his weight like it may give up at any moment and collapse. The sour body odor and booze overpowered her senses. Soon he would overpower her physically with his body. She waited for it.
Puck’s breathing leveled out.
Silence. Nothing happened.
She chanced a glance over her shoulder. In the dark, his chest rose and fell in a routine pattern. She turned back away from him and exhaled in the darkness. Thank you, Lord. She didn’t sleep as her mind ran through every scenario possible. I will escape.
JOSEPH
Mount Washington, Pittsburgh, PA
The Humvee sped for a side road and the driver took it up a steep hill roadway. Old nineteenth century homes decorated the hillside built during Pittsburgh’s industrial rise. Joseph’s head thumped against the window as they ran over corpses in the streets.
At the top of the hill, they passed a red brick church, then drove past a series of concrete barricades and taller concrete walls. A soldier stopped them at the chain-link fence gate. Movable barriers sat to either side, ready to be rolled into place at a moment’s notice.
“Whattaya got, Pope? You get that bottle of vodka?” the guard asked. He looked in the back at Joseph.
“It’s in the back. Henderson decided he’d pick up some doctor. Claims to be on a secret mission.”
The guard laughed. “Sure thing, buddy.”
“I’ll get at you later,” Pope said.
“Come on in.” The guard waved them through.
Pope steered them inside the base. The passed a dozen soldiers in full combat kit. Large tents were set up near the center of the camp. Pope took them d
own a lane and stopped.
He gave Joseph a smirk. “This be your stop, Secret Agent.” Specialist Henderson hopped out after him. “Don’t drink all that vodka. I’ll be back later,” Henderson said to Pope.
“Whatever, bro. You drew the short straw on this one,” Pope said. He spun the wheels as he drove off. Henderson sighed heavy.
“Come on, Doc.”
Henderson not very gently led Joseph in the direction of a big drab tan tent that sat on the edge of a steep cliff. Humvees drove in and out of a motor pool. They passed barracks-style tents, all seemingly the same.
The camp boomed and the earth shook. Joseph dove for the ground, eating dirt in the process. He instinctually covered his ears with his elbows. After a moment, he looked up and around at Henderson. The young soldier stared down at him with a big shit-eating grin on his face.
“First time around a 1-5-5 artillery piece, huh? Don’t worry, you get used to it,” Henderson yelled with a laugh. “Here.” Henderson offered Joseph a gloved hand and helped him up.
“See there.” Henderson pointed to a group of tall artillery pieces. They were in a neat line, long barrels standing at salute along the mountaintop.
“Those are so loud,” Joseph said. He gave the artillery pieces an untrusting look.
“Here, put these in,” Henderson said, handing Joseph a pair of neon yellow foam earplugs. They looked used and worn.
Joseph looked at them doubtfully.
“Sorry pal, that’s all I got. I’m not sick.” And after he thought for a moment. “Not that I know of.”
Joseph stuffed the plugs in his ears anyway.
“Where are you taking me?” Joseph said and stopped. “You can untie me. I won’t run away.”
“You wouldn’t have wanted to go into the quarantine zone anyway. Nobody usually comes back from there.”
Joseph glared and raised his hands up to be cut free. “You wouldn’t want to go where I came from either. The East Coast is overrun. It’s only a matter of time before the infected make their way here.”
The color drained from Henderson’s face. “We’ll get you untied,” he said, sliding a knife out from his belt.
He slit Joseph’s zip-ties and the thin plastic fell to the ground. “I heard it was bad out there. I have a sister up in New York. I haven’t heard from her in weeks,” Henderson said. Joseph didn’t respond.
They walked in silence until they reached the command tent. The tent sat on the edge of a very steep cliff leaving it free from infected assault on one side. Joseph also realized that meant they had no way to escape if they were overrun. The remains of Pittsburgh sprawled before him.
A single large brown river flowed freely six hundred feet below them. The river split into two and a piece of land stuck out in the water like a defiant middle finger in the landscape. Skyscrapers jutted up from the city while dozens of bridges connected the surrounding hills to the city of Pittsburgh. The downtown was covered in thick black smoke. The manmade giants of steel and glass sat dark. A single gray building slouched, ready to collapse at any moment. The only signs of life were reflections of fire glowing in the windows that hadn’t been shattered. Specialist Henderson stood alongside Joseph for a moment before he spoke.
“You are in Quarantine Base Rattlesnake. We are here to make sure nobody leaves Pittsburgh through the Fort Penn tunnel.” Henderson pointed at the rivers.
“The farthest one at the divide is the Allegheny, and the one closest to us is the Monongahela. Where they connect together, makes the Ohio. You see that there?” His finger pointed to a large yellow-seated stadium sticking out on the side of the river.
“That was Heinz Field. They turned it into FEMA Facility Hope weeks ago. The boys call it Camp Hopeless. All of our wounded used to go over there and not come back. Now no one goes over there.” He pointed in turn in each direction. “We have three other quarantine staging areas around the city. Each group covers a sector.”
The landscape must have been a beautiful panorama before the outbreak. Bridge after bridge led out from the city center. Yellow, black, suspension, and high-rise bridges crossed the rivers.
“The City of Bridges is what they call it. The most in the entire world,” Henderson bragged.
“Wow, how do you know all this?”
“Grew up in Mount Lebanon about fifteen minutes away. Bleed black and gold.” He was cut off by another barrage of artillery which thundered, shells clapping the air. Earth and concrete erupted on the other river bank across the river, launching debris hundreds of feet into the air.
“What are they shooting at?” Joseph asked.
Henderson looked at him, confusion in his eyes. “They’re shooting at the crazy people across the river. They pretty much shoot all day. Until the barrels get too hot. Then they take a break.”
A long open-roofed barge that typically hauled coal up and down the rivers docked below. Men scrambled with supplies toward a red trolley car on the side of the mountain.
“What are they doing?” Joseph asked. Henderson winked. “That’s the Duquesne incline. We move supplies and people up and down the mountain that way. It’s faster than driving around, and it keeps our shooting lanes clear. You see, since we blocked the Fort Penn Tunnel, some of the infected still make their way up the mountain over the road. So we set up a bunch of heavy machine guns and sniper nests along the way to pick them off. Hehe. A couple of times we had to take a big dump truck and drive over a group of them. We usually just push the dead bodies over the edge down the mountain.”
The mountainside was littered with thousands of bodies caught in crevices and shrubs which covered the hillside. It was like a landfill, but instead of trash the bloated remains of humans lay piled about. Dark carrion birds leapt back and forth, fat and well fed.
Henderson looked abashed, then with hope at Joseph. “I heard there was a cure, Doc? Is it true?”
Joseph shook his head. The loss of life was staggering. “No cure. Show me to your leader.”
Henderson led Joseph to a smaller tent next to the command tent. Officers buzzed in and out. Joseph sat in a foldable chair and waited, but not for long. A short, wide-shouldered, bald white man pushed through the tent flaps and immediately sized Joseph up. His thin tight upper lip quivered for a second yet remained in place.
“I am Colonel Jackson. I am the commanding officer of the remaining 34th Brigade Combat Team, comprised of the 1st Battalion, 113th Pennsylvania Artillery, and the 1st Battalion, 175th Pennsylvania Infantry. The ‘Ole Bloody Anvil Brigade.’” He stood in front of Joseph, looking down on him.
He continued with his resume-based harangue. “We are a portion of the 28th Infantry Division, known as the Iron Division, that is stationed throughout Pennsylvania, Indiana, Ohio, and formerly New Jersey. My men tell me you are a doctor, and that you were traveling alone. Is this true?”
Joseph took off his glasses and wiped them on his shirt. “My name is Dr. Joseph Jackowski. Although I’m probably not the kind of doctor that you are looking for, I am a virologist with the CDC. I escaped from the Mount Eden FEMA Facility with a group of survivors who were ambushed and captured by bandits.”
“Damn, is nothing left?” Jackson spat.
Joseph didn’t know how to answer that. “I don’t know. The infected were everywhere,” he said, feeling a bit embarrassed for not knowing.
“We have been having problems with personnel at FEMA Camp Hope. You see, before we knew how to deal with these things, our doctors and field medics were infected. I sent my only remaining physician to help the civilians, but now the facility has been shut down. Permanently.”
“Why is the facility shut down?”
“Overrun. No one came back. We lost a lot of good soldiers trying to hold that place.”
Joseph gulped.
“This is like no war I’ve ever seen, but in some ways wars are all the same. And I need a doctor to keep my units operational,” Colonel Jackson said. His cold eyes demanding of Joseph.
&nbs
p; “I would be honored to help our servicemen and women, but I’m afraid that my mission is of more importance. I am traveling to Michigan to track down a lead on Patient Zero. I could use your help in getting there.”
Colonel Jackson held up a hand firmly. “Doctor Jackowski. Who gave you this mission?”
“Uh, the United States Congress?” Joseph lied.
Colonel Jackson stared through him. “We must be in bad shape if Congress is sending a lone virologist on a mission of such importance with nothing more than a tire iron to defend himself,” Jackson said sternly.
Joseph didn’t know what else to say and did not have the opportunity.
“You can see that I have very little to spare in the way of personnel. My numbers are strained due to infection and desertion. The 128th Support Battalion down river is doing an excellent job of keeping us supplied, but I cannot risk the lives of my men on such a risky task. Even if I could spare the troops, I can’t let you enter the quarantine zone under Presidential Directive 6642. But, I do have a use for you here. It is imperative that we maintain our quarantine of the city, or the infected will break through,” Colonel Jackson said. He started to pace and stopped at a map hanging on the tent wall.
“Desertion?” Joseph wondered.
Colonel Jackson grimaced, “How can I ask men to do their duty when their families are being slaughtered? And we don’t know where the next reinforcements are coming from. I am going to be honest with you. Things are bad. We haven’t heard from Quarantine Base Adder, Boa, or Cobra in two days.”
He thrust a meaty finger onto a map of Pittsburgh. Question marks surrounded red-drawn circles indicating bases that surrounded the city.
“Full infantry brigades completely offline. What I would give to have just a fraction of the 59th Stryker Brigade Combat Team here. They were ushered over to Philadelphia. Haven’t heard from Colonel Hartman in a while either.” Colonel Jackson stared thoughtfully at the map, seeming to wonder and despair at once.
The End Time Saga Box Set [Books 1-3] Page 44
