by W. J. Lundy
The medical room had a large wooden door which someone had braced with boards and placed a heavy steel bar across. Bits of skin, fingernails, and claw marks covered the entrance. Shane focused on the door and edged closer. The whimper got louder as Shane’s head was silhouetted over the single window in the door. A small, shattered wire-reinforced window covered with blood was embedded high in the door. Shane lifted his arm and used his sleeve to wipe away the sticky residue, then pressed his eye to the window. What he saw caused his knees to go weak and a pain grip his stomach. Inside the room, sitting on a hospital bed, was a young girl.
CHAPTER 8
“So why do you need us? You seem to have a boat full of able seaman,” Shawn said grinning.
“Aye, that we do but we’re just a bit shy of shooters on board,” Meyers answered without allowing Stuart to speak.
Sean folded his hands together then let out a long sigh. “Okay, we’ve listened to your story. What’s the plan?” Sean asked, looking over the printed pages in the folder.
Howard looked at Sean, confused. “The plan? What’s the plan? Do you still not understand the importance of this? We need to get to the fort! There may be samples, something… anything we can use.”
“Ugh, this again?” Meyers grunted. “You’re awful confident about these samples. How do you know they exist? That this won’t be a lost cause that gets all of us killed.”
Howard reached across the table and pulled the folder back from Sean. He flipped through pages and laid them out in front of him. “These are lab reports. The men that risked their lives to get these wouldn’t have destroyed them. And these things… these Primals, they would have no interest in samples. Even if they are lost, we have to recover the patient’s body,” Howard shouted, showing his frustration.
Brooks nodded and leaned forward in his seat. “I’m in.”
Sean put his hand up. “Now hold on a minute, we don’t know enough to commit to anything. Hell, we don’t even know who this doctor works for.”
“Doesn’t matter, Chief, this is bigger than all of us. If there’s a chance of a breakthrough, I’m going,” Brooks said, pushing away from the table and getting to his feet. “I understand the rest of you having doubts, and I don’t expect any of you to go along.”
Brad looked down at the table but for the moment held his silence.
Meyers laughed. “Well, well, look at this; we got one brave Yank joining the team. How’s about we get two? Three maybe.”
Sean gave Meyers a smug look that quickly silenced him. “I tell you what, left-ten-ant,” he said, exaggerating the accent reciting Meyers’ rank. “You give me detailed plans and supplies, I’ll pull a squad together for you. But… the doctor here is going to answer a few more questions about the people he works for.”
“Easily done, Chief,” Meyers said. “Time is of importance though; I suggest you begin readying your party as soon as possible.”
“Nothing to worry about,” Sean said, looking back at his men. “Brooks, partner up with the doctor here. I want to know everything about this place he comes from and this kid, and what it will take to recover these samples. Commander, could you please transport my sergeant back to our vessel so that he may prepare our team while your left-ten-ant briefs me in.”
Stuart stood and walked to the door with Chatham close in tow. “I’ll make arrangements for transport and we will send someone for your man when ready. I’ll leave you alone with Mr. Meyers here to strategize.” With that, he left the room and Chatham closed the door behind them.
“Okay, Meyers, let’s cut the bullshit. What are we looking at here?” Sean said, walking around the table to stand next to Meyers.
“It’s ugly, mate. I don’t see how we can reach the fort from the near coast.” Meyers stopped speaking, reached into a cargo pocket on his left leg, and unfolded a large military map. “Collins is here, inland between the coast and this large river. All these coastal areas are pockmarked with activity. But here,”—he pointed to an area far south of the fort—“in this harbor, is an island base. We have picked up radio traffic, pings for help and that sort of thing, so it seems to be a friendly safe haven.”
Brooks looked closely at the map and grinned. “You’re joking. You do know what that is, don’t you? You want us to go to Fort Sumter?”
“It’s logical, mate. It’s located in the harbor and clear of infected. From radio traffic, we know that it is occupied. If we get there, we can attempt to secure transport up river and get closer to Collins.”
“You want to take a British submarine up Charleston Harbor?” Brooks asked.
“No, mate. The Skipper won’t risk bringing the boat that close; that’s why we stopped you, we need that little Canadian tug you been cruising on.”
“Ahh… and the truth suddenly reveals itself,” Sean said sarcastically.
Meyers shrugged and slapped Sean on the shoulder. “Of course, but my excitement of finding out there were Yankee grunts on board is quite authentic.”
There was a loud knock at the door and a young sailor cracked it, sticking in his head. “Pardon me, the raft is ready,” the young man said.
Sean turned to look at Brad who had been standing quietly with an uncommitted look on his face. “Brad, I need you to tell Gunner to ready the group to move ashore. For now, just give him the location. No need to reveal the mission yet, I’ll do that later. I don’t want shit going south before it starts.”
“Anything else?” Brad asked nonchalantly, but showing obvious relief that he wouldn’t have to tell the rest of the team they had been signed up to go into Primal territory.
“No, not yet. I’m going to try to squeeze some ammo and food out of our new friends here,” Sean said, returning the slap to Meyers’ shoulder. “I will see you tonight.”
“Roger that,” Brad said without emotion as he turned to join the sailor in the hallway. When Brad moved through the hatch, the sailor quickly closed it behind him.
“Just this way, Sir,” the sailor said.
Brad nodded. “Lead the way, I’m ready to get the hell out of here,” he grunted.
“Tense meeting that must be. The captain has been barking orders since he left the wardroom. You must have had some good things to talk about.”
Brad picked up on the change of temperament with the escort from when they first boarded the submarine. He also noticed that this sailor wasn’t armed as the others had been. “What happened to your rifle, mate?” Brad asked, being as direct as he could afford.
The sailor froze in his tracks and turned to look back at Brad. “Do I need it?” he asked with a frightened look.
“What? No, it was just that earlier, all the guards were armed and now I don’t see any,” Brad said.
“Oh, that, no… the captain stood us down. We were at general quarters till we figured out who you all were. You know pirates are operating out there.” The sailor walked back to the spot on the passageway where the ladder led to the sail. “Just this way, sir, we’ll be outside in a moment.”
Brad stepped into the well and climbed the ladder up to another small space where he traveled through an open hatch and out onto the deck. There were noticeably less people outside now. Three sailors he recognized from earlier were positioned by the webbed ladder that led to the raft and a couple more were farther away, near the bow. Brad looked out and was surprised to see how late it had gotten; the sun was nearly setting over the water far to the west.
He heard his escort walk up behind him. “You ready to go, sir? We can board anytime.”
“Please, call me Brad. Or Sergeant if you have to,” Brad said.
“Oh, yes… of course, Brad, no offense intended. You can call me Ian.”
“Nice to meet you, Ian,” Brad said with a forced smile. “It’s fine. I’m just ready to get back to my team.”
The sailor yelled to the other men near the raft. They quickly scaled the net ladder and boarded the small boat, then turned to assist Brad and the other sailor. This time
, Brad was offered a plank seat near the rear of the boat. Brad looked out over the water and saw the Coast Guard ship. He could see some of his team standing against the rail and watching him with binoculars.
“How long you boys been out here?” Brad asked without taking his eyes off the distant Coast Guard boat.
Ian stepped across the raft and settled in across from Brad while the other men tossed lines and pushed away from the submarine. “Out here? We haven’t been home since it started… if that was your meaning,” Ian answered.
“That’s a long time to be away from home. I’ve been on the run since my convoy was ambushed weeks... months… hell, I kinda lost track. Haven’t had a break either.”
“Yeah… time doesn’t matter as much anymore does it?” Ian said thoughtfully.
Ian reached into his pocket and offered Brad a cigarette. Brad shook his head. Ian let out a small chuckle. “I know... these’ll kill me, right? All the bastards out there that quit? Look at them now.”
The raft’s small outboard motor came to life. The pilot revved the engine and steered toward the surface ship. Ian took a long drag on the cigarette and looked at Brad. “My Mum enjoys a good smoke.” He paused and shook his head, like he hadn’t had the thought in a long time. Ian continued speaking while looking out over the side, toward the setting sun. “We was on combat patrol in the Barents Sea when it started. This thing—whatever it is—it had been burning for three weeks before we broke radio silence and was informed. The skipper raced us back to port against orders… the time we arrived it was gone. Nobody came to the pier to meet us; everything, just gone.
“We tried to reach others. There were a few surface ships about, most with infected aboard, but we found and paired with a Norwegian destroyer for a couple weeks. But this is a nuke boat. We can run for twenty-five years before refueling. Most things we run into don’t have that capability. We helped the Nords anchor safely offshore then parted ways.”
“You ever hear from them?” Brad asked.
“Not sure… radio traffic isn’t shared with us peons,” Ian said with a low laugh. “Likely they are still out there. I’d like to think so. Captain promised to return for them one day.”
Brad looked down and out at the water. “I’ve made the same promises.”
The engine’s speed was cut and idled. Brad looked up and saw they were slowly drifting into the Coast Guard ship. He saw Parker run to the rail and throw a rope to one of the sailors sitting in the front of the raft. Working together, the raft was pulled in close to the dive deck. Brad got to his feet and was quickly pulled aboard by Parker.
“Good to have you back, Sergeant. Where are the others?” Parker asked as Joey and Chelsea climbed down the ladder to greet him.
Brad stopped and looked around without answering.
“Where’s Gunner?” Brad asked.
Chelsea moved between Joey and Parker, stopping at Brad’s side. “Everything okay, Brad?”
Ignoring her question, Brad looked over his shoulder at the other sailors. They were still on the raft. “You coming aboard, Ian?”
“Sorry, mate; got my orders. The others will be staying over with ya tonight. Nice meeting you, Brad,” Ian said as the engine revved up and the raft raced back toward the submarine in the fading light.
CHAPTER 9
“Shane,” Ella mumbled, pushing at the tight blanket. He woke with a start and almost knocked Ella to the ground as he reached for his rifle. He paused and looked up at the orange sky.
No, he thought. They had slept through the day. The exhaustion from the days of travel and the cold of the river had been hard on him, but they couldn’t be in the open after dark.
The soldier shushed the girl with a finger to his lips then crossed his arms in front of him. Ella understood the signal, and she’d been a good student after spending days with him on the trail. She stopped and lowered herself to the ground to sit on her heels motionless. Shane reached out and felt her light tank top. It was nearly dry and still warm from the huddled body heat. He lifted her clothing that he had draped on top of his bag and quickly dressed her.
He hurriedly dressed himself and stuffed the blanket into his pack. He pushed a fist through a strap and tightly fastened the bag to his back. Shane stood high on his knees like a prairie dog and looked in all directions. They were losing the light and he cursed himself again for the mistake. They needed to find cover soon. The things would be moving—they may already be out and on the hunt. He knew sundown was when they had always arrived at the fort and by nightfall, their numbers were always at the max, howling and throwing themselves at the walls.
Shane looked left and right. He saw the blacktop of the road in the distance; it was paved so it would likely hold structures, but structures also attracted the infected. Beyond the road was a thick wooded area. It could provide shelter but, again, it was a likely hiding place for the beasts. There was no time to debate; path of least resistance, he thought. He swooped his right hand down toward the ground and to his side. Ella quietly got to her feet and moved next to him. As she stood, she grabbed the back of his belt. Shane turned back and ruffled the hair on the girl’s head. He knew he was pushing her hard, but she didn’t complain. She responded by hugging his hip and pulling at his belt, signaling she was ready. Shane stepped off; they needed to move.
It was important to balance his movements with the tactical situation. The sun was falling and he didn’t know where he was, so he had to assume they were in the middle of an infested area. He couldn’t move too quickly. They would make too much noise, and one thing he knew for certain was that the things were drawn to human sounds. Shane stepped quickly enough but not so fast that the girl had to struggle to keep up. Occasionally he stopped to allow her to rest as he dropped low in the grass and looked in all directions.
They reached a small trail that ran parallel to the road. Shane checked it for markings and, finding none, he turned and headed south. They moved quicker now; out of the grass he could step more swiftly and still remain silent. The sun was dropping fast and he would have to make a decision soon. There was a hill ahead. If he didn’t find shelter after summiting the small rise, he would have to break for the forest and find a high tree to hide in. As if telling him to hurry, he heard a faint howl in the distance.
Shane froze, dropped to his knee instinctively, and brought up his rifle. They were awake. He had to get out of the open. He dropped low and brought out both arms without speaking. Again Ella understood the non-verbal instruction and pulled herself onto his pack. Lying across the top of his bag, she pushed her legs over his right shoulder and then lowered her arms grabbing at his left arm to put herself in a fireman’s carry. Shane reached up and patted her leg, then got to his feet. He moved out with much greater speed now, trying to conceal the building panic he was feeling. His back burned as the pain of his old injury returned.
He heard the howl again. Shane ignored the pain and tried to jog. He knew it would make him less aware of his surroundings, but they were in the area and he had to move. As he cleared the top of the hill, he paused just long enough to look in all directions. To his right, he could see where the woods stretched toward the road and almost touched it. He scanned to the left and paused, near the river stood a small house. The girl squirmed, he knew she was uncomfortable but it couldn’t be helped.
More howling, this time from the woods, made the decision easy; he turned and began jogging toward the house. He was back in the field, he knew he was making noise but the situation had changed. He would now trade speed of movement for the noise as more howling in the distance made him think that they weren’t hunting, but rather calling to each other. His back began to spasm, the pain shooting bolts up his spine. He consciously took deep breaths and forced his eyes open, refusing to quit. The girl lifted her arm and touched the side of his head.
Shane squinted and reopened his eyes. The girl’s touch gave him renewed strength. They had bonded on the road, even though they rarely spoke, and somehow
he had connected with her. She seemed to sense his pain and would try to comfort him. In return, he held her hand when she called for her parents in the darkest parts of the night. Shane didn’t know where she came from or why, but if not for her, he would have quit long ago. He lived only to save her. For her, he could face his pain a while longer.
Once he was close to the house, within a hundred feet, he stopped jogging and slowed to a walk. He wanted to have his breathing under control before he got within earshot of the building. With no time to stop, he scouted the structure while moving forward. It was a large two story house nearly a football field’s length from the river bank. The sides were flanked with a tall covered porch. There were several sheds and wood piles in the immediate vicinity. To one side, a long gravel driveway worked its way through tall, uncut grass and overgrown bushes.
A sharp pain traveled from his lower back to his neck, causing him to jolt forward and nearly fall to his knees. Shane crouched to relieve the pressure and walked to an outcropping of overgrown shrubs near the home’s porch. He got low to the ground and felt Ella slide down beside him. He reached for her arm and helped her maneuver under the brush and into a tight hiding spot. Then he slid his bag in front of her, completely concealing her position.
Shane backed away from the brush and quickly checked his surroundings. He could still hear the moans in the distance. They hadn’t increased or changed from the casual calls to the more intense high pitched calls of the hunt that he’d heard during the attack on the base. For the moment, he was still undetected and he needed to keep it that way. He resisted the urge to check the action on his rifle; he knew there were 10 rounds left, but either way he couldn’t risk a shot with so much activity in the area.
He reached back and attached the bayonet, then slowly crept toward the house. As Shane looked for a front door, he noticed that two of the house’s windows under the covered porch were open. He could see light fabric moving slightly in the evening breeze. He got lower and approached under the cover of the porch rail to the home’s steps. He was relieved to see that they were made up of fieldstone and poured concrete, no squeaky boards to contend with… yet.
