Luzetski had stopped at a junction. To the left was a narrow outflow tunnel, too narrow for anyone larger then a cat to get through that was covered with a very sturdy looking heavy metal grate. To the right was a larger tunnel that led towards downtown. Wheeler had told Ski that there was a large grate in that direction that had, so far, prevented any infected from getting to this area. Somewhere beyond that grate was a small pumping station. Ski pulled out the hand drawn map and studied it under the glow of his mini Maglite. He glanced up and around until he found the marks and arrows that the previous unit assigned to this task had left.
The tunnel to his right disappeared into darkness. Wheeler had mentioned that there was some WD-1 wire that the engineers had strung up about shoulder height on the walls along the service catwalk all the way to the main grate that they could use to hang chem-lights.
“Jiminez, you got the duty,” Ski said. Jiminez, no longer carrying the team radio, was carrying boxes of long-life, break and shake Cyalume chemical light sticks. The corporal reached into the bag that was slung over his shoulder and removed one of the boxes. Letting his rifle hang by its sling, he tore open one end and pulled out a handful of the sticks passing them around to the team.
“You know the drill,” Ski said. “One mounts the lights while the other provides cover.” There was some grumbling among the men but they soon focused on the task at hand. They worked in silence, mounting the sticks as the tunnel gradually brightened.
“Hey,” Graham said. “I got something here.” Ski estimated that they were about halfway to the main grate. The tunnel behind them was well lit while the tunnel ahead was still dark.
“What you got?” Ski asked.
“Looks like a door. Maybe some kind of maintenance space,” Graham said.
“Check it,” Ski directed.
“Locked,” Graham said.
“Leave it alone and keep moving,” Ski said. That door wasn’t on the map that Ski had. As long as it was locked, it wasn’t an issue. Graham removed a piece of chalk from a pocket and marked a large X on the doorframe before moving on.
“You hear that?” Pruitt asked. Jiminez and Pruitt were a little further down the tunnel then Ski and Graham. They all stopped and listened for sounds. Several tense seconds ticked by with nothing but the flowing water breaking the silence.
“Keep moving,” Ski said. “Probably just rats or dripping water.”
Sierra-3 continued mounting the light sticks until the large grate at the end of their tunnel materialized out of the darkness. The bars were close enough together to prevent debris from flowing through the tunnels and causing damage. Pruitt and Jiminez mounted their last light stick then waited for Graham and Ski to catch up.
“Hey, Ski,” Pruitt said as his team leader finished attaching the chemical light to the WD-1 strand that ran across the floor to ceiling grate.
“Yeah,” Ski said, standing thigh deep in the water that was flowing through the bottom of the tunnel and expecting Pruitt to bust his balls again about their current assignment.
“That grate doesn’t go all the way to the tunnel floor,” Pruitt said, shining his light into the water. “I wouldn’t stand there too long. Something’s bound to come up out of the water and bite your dick off. Maybe one of those legendary sewer crocodiles.”
“I thought they were alligators?” Jiminez said. “Isn’t that shit all urban legend anyway?”
“Zombies were urban legend and look where we are now,” Pruitt said. “Ski’s going to find out if there are sewer gators if he stays there too much longer,” Pruitt said with a chuckle.
Ski looked down at the water that he was standing in. He removed his mini Maglite and illuminated the base of the metal mesh and the tunnel floor. There was a sizeable gap where the metal ended and the curve of the tunnel floor started. A gap that was large enough to very easily let a man sized object through. Looking closer at the bottom of the metal, Ski saw ragged clothing caught on the sharp edges. He quickly swung his light up and shone it through the mesh then around the tunnel but saw nothing. Tucking the small flashlight back into a pouch on his vest, he casually and calmly climbed out of the water, onto the catwalk and brought his rifle around to the front of his body.
“Mission objective has been completed,” Ski said. “Tunnels lit. We’re pulling back to the junction then back to the sub-basement. Hoo-ah?”
“Hoo-ah,” his team replied sensing a change in the mission tempo and Luzetski.
Sierra-3 slowly moved back down the tunnel, weapons up and ready. They didn’t talk but used hand signals. Even with the chemical lights casting their glow in the darkened tunnel, there were still deep shadows and recesses that the light didn’t reach. Graham stopped walking and crouched down, his weapon up. Ski moved closer and stopped as well, slowly swiveling to scan back the way they had come. He panned back forward and leaned out to see what had stopped Graham. The door that had been closed on their way deeper into the darkness was now open. Waving his left hand to get Pruitt and Jimenez’s attention, he motioned to the door and got an exaggerated nod from Pruitt. Pruitt brought his rifle up to use the infrared scope while Jiminez angled himself to be able to watch the door and behind them. Ski watched Pruitt as he studied the doorway. Finally, Pruitt lowered his rifle, looked at Ski and shook his head indicating that he hadn’t seen anything. Ski reached out and placed his left hand on Graham’s shoulder, tapped him once then squeezed letting Graham know that he was ready. Graham moved around the door, Ski right behind him, his rifle swept right while Ski swept left, their tactical lights waving through the darkened interior of the room.
“Clear right,” Graham said.
“Clear left,” Ski said.
What they had thought would be a maintenance room was actually an access to the street above. Ski shined his light up the rungs of the ladder until he saw that the manhole cover had been removed at street level. It was dark outside, maybe pre-dawn. He quickly moved his light away from the opening.
“Shit,” he muttered.
“Contact! Contact!” Pruitt yelled accompanied by rifle fire that reverberated within the concrete and steel tunnel. Graham and Ski spun, moved to the doorway and looked out. The end of the tunnel, the end they had entered from, now had several Zulu’s shambling in their direction. This didn’t make sense. There was no way for the infected to have climbed down from street level. They didn’t have that kind of coordination. Did they? While it was possible that a couple could have fallen through the open cover and landed inside the room, there was an actual doorknob on the inside not a push bar. Pruitt and Jiminez dropped the small group of infected, reloaded and watched the tunnel for more activity.
“Cease Fire! Cease Fire! Tango down!” Ski called out.
Ski stepped back into the room and looked up at the night sky through the round opening. He used his tactical light to study the rungs of the ladder. There were some smears on the rungs, someone had climbed up and removed the cover. Or climbed down after removing the cover. He shone his light at the base of the ladder and on the floor. His light illuminated an almost perfect boot print. The pattern looked familiar because it was the same pattern that he and his men had on the bottom of their boots. The same pattern that the soldiers in the museum had on their boots. Ski stepped out of the room and approached the bodies that his team had engaged.
“Ski,” Pruitt said. “Watch your ass. There could be more of them down here.” Ski nodded but kept moving towards the downed Zulus. Two of the bodies were in the water that was running at the bottom of the tunnel, bobbing up and down in the slow current. The other bodies were sprawled on the service walkways that lined the sides of the tunnel. He sensed Graham behind him and caught the movement of Pruitt or Jiminez to his left. He stopped and illuminated the bodies with his weapon’s tac-light. The bodies were clothed in US Army field uniforms. These Zulu’s had once been soldiers.
***
Chapter 8
Camberley, Surrey, United Kingdom
Jack L
arkin was crouched in a doorway watching a small group of infected at the end of the street. Next to him, also crouched was M’Banga, the British Army Ghurka from the Sittang Battalion stationed at Sandhurst Royal Military Academy. This was another of M’Banga’s training exercises. He insisted that Larkin know how to survive by himself if he was to live outside the walls of Sandhurst. Larkin had the impression that M’Banga was keeping him busy so he wouldn’t think about the loss of Leesa. He still had dreams or rather nightmares that caused him to wake in a cold sweat. He was sure that at times he moaned or screamed in his sleep but M’Banga never mentioned it.
Over the last few weeks, they had expanded their patrol circle, constantly seeking supplies from houses, businesses, and apartments. This was the furthest edge of their patrol circle and only the second time they had entered the town of Bagshot. The Ghurka moved across the street like a wraith, silent and deadly. He stopped in a doorway then motioned to Larkin to hold his position, the butchers were moving away. Larkin looked around to make sure there were no stragglers then removed a map from his pocket. He slowly unfolded it and then marked where they were and the direction that the group of infected moved off in. Refolding the map, he tucked it away then slowly stood and peered in both directions. M’Banga watched the streets then motioned Larkin across. While both men were armed, their rifles were slung tight across their backs and their handguns holstered. Ammunition was in short supply and as long as they didn’t have to engage the infected, the longer that supply would last. Larkin rested his left hand on the grip of the officer’s saber that was slung opposite his sidearm’s holster. He had found the edged weapon in the basement storage of Sandhurst and carried it ever since. The Ghurka carried his traditional Kukri on the opposite hip from his own sidearm. The two men conferred in hand gestures before M’Banga tapped Larkin on the shoulder and pointed. Larkin turned and looked in the indicated direction. Diagonally across the street, faces pressed against the glass, were two small children inside a storefront. Their faces looked dirty but it could have been from the refraction or the muck that was crusted on the outside of the window. Larkin took a step towards the store but M’Banga grabbed his arm and stopped him. The Ghurka slowly shook his head then pointed to the other end of the street. Several of the infected wandered into view and began to shuffle along after the first group that had passed. Larkin crouched back down and was trying to make himself invisible when M’Banga tapped him on the arm and handed him a folded, faded, wool blanket. The diminutive warrior motioned that he should drape himself with it. Larkin nodded, and started to use the blanket to cover up with when a rancid smell, strong enough to make his eyes start watering, emanated from the cloth. He shot a glance at M’Banga who just smiled widely as he draped himself with an equally soiled blanket. Larkin covered up, leaving only a small slit to view the street. As his sense of smell was overwhelmed by the stench of the blanket he glanced up the street and saw Leesa. She was standing in the middle of the road, smiling at him, totally unconcerned about the approaching cannibals. He tensed, ready to run, grab her and take her to safety until he replayed their last moments together. Squeezing his eyes tight, he tried to flush the image of her laying on the floor, bitten and his own hand holding the Browning that would end her suffering.
The infected took no notice of the two forms huddled in the doorway or of the imaginary woman in the middle of the street. Their sole purpose was to find something to eat and some new host to spread the virus they carried. Larkin watched and waited, breathing shallowly out of his mouth so he wouldn’t have to smell whatever the blanket had been soaked in. M’Banga nudged him then threw off his own covering, packing it into the messenger bag he had slung over his shoulder. Larkin followed his example, stuffing the aromatic fabric into his old messenger bag that he had used when he commuted to the hotel on his bike. When he looked at the street again, Leesa was not there. He mentally shook himself. It was a lack of sleep and the constant stress. If he told himself that, then maybe these visions would go away. This wasn’t the first time had seen her. The two men cautiously stepped out onto the street and searched for any more infected. M’Banga moved speedily yet stealthily until he was at the window. He cupped his hands around his eyes and looked inside the store where they had seen the two children.
“Anything?” Larkin asked quietly as he watched the streets. The Ghurka slowly shook his head then moved to try the door. It was locked. Removing a small folding blade knife, M’Banga went to work on the lock. Several tense minutes passed as he worked the blade into the gap between the flange and the knob before the door popped open. He reached back and grabbed Larkin pulling him inside before closing the door and looking to see if their entry had been noticed. Larkin looked at the store, it was a small local retail/grocery store presumably owned by a family based on the pictures on the wall behind the counter. There were footprints on the floor, small and overlapping. A layer of dust was on the counter and all the flat surfaces. He tapped M’Banga and pointed to the back of the store. Larkin crouched, drew his sword and started moving along the counter while M’Banga drew his Kukri and moved in the other direction. Both men rounded the service counter at the same time and discovered nothing waiting for them. In unison, they looked towards the archway leading to the back of the store. M’Banga moved ahead of Larkin and entered first then motioned for him to follow. The back of the store was a combination storeroom, office and produce preparation area. A small desk was squeezed into one area with just enough space to slide past the stacked boxes and take a seat. Next to the large roll-up door was a stationary washtub that was part of the produce prep section. To the immediate left of the archway was a large silver door, the obvious walk-in refrigerator and freezer. Larkin was about to ask where the children they had seen were when M’Banga nudged him and pointed up. Larkin looked up and saw the same two faces he had seen outside looking down at him from the top of the storage area. The framework of the storage shelves worked as a ladder if one were small and light enough to make use of it. The two groups stared at each other before Larkin stood upright and sheathed his sword and M’Banga doing the same with his Kukri.
“Are you here to save us?” a small voice asked. Larkin presumed it to be the brother of the pair as they looked like siblings.
“Do you need to be saved?” Larkin asked. “You seem to be doing all right from what I can see.”
“Please, take us with you. It’s scary here at night,” the same voice said.
“C’mon down then and let’s have a look at you,” Larkin said. The two children moved to the end of the shelving and climbed down. Their appearance was typical of those who had lived through the initial outbreak. Their clothing showed excessive wear and their skin was ruddy with sweat, dirt and spilled meals. He blinked, Leesa was squatted down looking at each child, inspecting them then she looked up at Larkin with a smile. He stared at her image not understanding why she was here. In the past, she had only appeared in his dreams. He was sure he was awake.
“Please sir, can you take us with you?” the boy asked. Larkin was able to confirm they were siblings, the boy looked older and still had the remnants of a school blazer. His sister, silent, stood slightly behind her brother and gripped a ragged stuffed animal with one hand and her brother’s arm with her other hand.
“How long have you been here?” Larkin asked.
“Since mum left us here to fetch the car from the car park,” the boy said. “She never came back and then those things showed up.”
His sister nodded agreement but remained silent. Larkin realized that these children had been here for months, subsisting on the food and beverages that had been in the store. He looked over at M’Banga who stood to one side and watched the interaction. His features were hard to read. The Nepalese warrior looked back at him with no emotion until finally he gave a curt nod.
“Ok, let’s get your kit together and you can come along with us for a while. Does that sound like fun?” Larkin said.
Both children nodded
then moved to gather what they could. M’Banga looked at him but didn’t say anything before he moved to the front of the store. The children, Mike and Rachel, had stuffed what they could into a couple of mesh shopping bags and were dragging those bags towards the front of the store when M’Banga stopped them. He motioned for everyone to get low then crouch walked to the front of the store and peered out the window. Larkin mimicked M’Banga and moved to the window on the other side of the door. Another group of infected or maybe the same group that had passed by previously, were gathered on the street with more flowing in from side streets and buildings. Larkin shot M’Banga a quizzical look then returned to the spectacle outside. M’Banga gestured to the rear of the store then moved quietly in that direction. Larkin lingered a few seconds longer then followed, Leesa was present again and pointing to the rear door. He turned to look in that direction then looked back to where she stood but she had vanished. With a large horde of infected on the street, they’d have to wait until nightfall then reassess the situation.
***
Chapter 9
Firebase Cascade (formerly the City of Tenino), Washington State
“Damn, that is one fucked up way to set things up,” Mike Ackley, the former US Marine Gunnery Sergeant said as he watched the soldiers of 1st Special Forces Group, Airborne work to emplace the M119, 105mm Howitzer. He lifted the Multicam Black contractor’s cap with the subdued American flag Velcroed to the front that he wore, and scratched his head.
This long range weapon along with a dozen others had been retrieved from Joint Base Lewis/McChord during the last forage run. The plan was to get these weapons in place before winter as rain and snow would hamper such an evolution. The combat engineers had built revetments and fighting positions for the artillery pieces which allowed the Home Guard and the military personnel to place them in positions that would provide overlapping coverage. While the fighting positions were being built, Ackley had taken the time to poll the residents to see who had any experience with the operation of such weapons.
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