by Lundy, W. J.
Gyles held his hand to the earpiece while looking at Rose. “Where is this at?”
“Where? This is everywhere. Most of it is just outside Washington D.C., but we also have contacts in Atlanta, Nashville, Birmingham, as far south as Tampa, and every population center and highway in between.”
“I don’t understand how this is spreading so fast… What the hell are we dealing with?”
The co-pilot, the back of his helmet stenciled with the name Mitchell in black lettering, looked over his shoulder, making eye contact. “We’ve all been lied to. This isn’t some bullshit uprising. That shit we saw out there was something else. The flight crews dropping troops off at the Capital warned us about it. Called them zombies and monsters. Heck, who can blame us for not believing them?” Mitchell said. “Listen, Sergeant, I don’t know what you have going on with that kid back there, but he knows more than he’s letting on. Get it sorted out. We won’t have time to play games once we’re back on the ground.”
Gyles frowned and looked forward through the windscreen as dawn revealed black pillars of smoke in all directions. On the ground, he could see burning homes, flashing lights from emergency vehicles, and convoys of civilian caravans crowding and congesting the highways.
“Where are we going?” He could see they were traveling north with the rising sun to their right.
Mitchell turned, glancing at the pilot. “We tried for Richmond’s main airport, but those things are all over the ground. The LZ is too hot.” Mitchell pointed to a small paper map folded square and pinned in a laminated case. “I know a spot; it’s an Army National Guard post—it’s not much, but I grew up near there as a kid. They call it the Vineyard—far west of here, and better yet, it backs up to the George Washington and Jefferson National Forests, so it’s far enough away from population centers. It’ll take us away from the fighting and give us a chance to catch our breath and refit until it’s clear to return to Stewart.”
“You’ve been able to reach them? You’ve got radio comms?” Gyles asked, staring at the small black square on the map surrounded by green terrain indicators.
“Had a brief conversation with their commanding officer before we were cut off.”
Gyles was silent for a moment before lifting his chin at the map. “So– this National Guard post…?”
“It’s a small joint, not much more than an emergency field, but a good enough place to lick our wounds and regroup. They haven’t seen any of the things in their area, but—”
“But what?” Gyles asked, leaning in.
Mitchell moved his hand to the radio console and expertly dialed in a frequency. Gyles’s headset boomed with chatter and beeps. More cries for help, but different from before; these were civilians—911 dispatchers, police officers, first responders.
“What is this?” Gyles asked, his eyes closed and hand pressing the earpiece tight to his head, trying to isolate the voices.
“State police. It’s their closed network. I’ve tried pinpointing some of the calls,” he said, looking at the map. “I don’t think there’s a single region in the state that is untouched. You need to expect to find them on the ground when we touch down.”
“What the hell is going on?”
“I don’t know; the one you need to be asking is cowering back there.” Mitchell pointed a thumb behind him.
The sergeant dipped his chin in agreement, waiting for Mitchell to dial back the radio. “National Guard armory then? What kind of unit are they?”
“Aviation, Black Hawks mostly, but don’t get excited; all of their assets have been deployed to Andrews Air Force Base near D.C. All they got on site are some staff and admin left behind.”
“How long until we land?” Gyles asked.
“Less than ten mikes. We’ll make another wide orbit then bring us in. Have your men ready to go. They’ll be looking to you to provide security down there.”
Gyles nodded. Still thinking about the soldiers he left on the field, he turned and looked at the worried faces of his men. “We can do that.”
Mitchell reached out a hand to slap his arm. “Don’t get too comfortable down there. As soon as we gas this hooker up and get clearance from Stewart, we’re hitting the trail again.”
Chapter Five
Day of Infection Plus Seven, 0750 Hours.
Over Central Virginia.
“Let’s have a chat with Doctor Howard.”
The crew chief smirked and turned back to the rear troop hold, leading the way to the now bound and gagged medical man. Two beefy corporals flanked the doctor on each side, holding him in place. His hands were in his lap, thick black zip ties fastening them together.
Weaver smirked and looked at Gyles. “I would have put a sandbag over his head, too, if I’d had one.”
“Did I miss something?” Gyles asked, positioning himself so that he faced the doctor. “What’s with the restraints?”
Weaver pointed at the bound man’s chest. “He wouldn’t shut up about you—and how he’s going to have you locked up. He tried to get to his weapon. Said he would have you executed when we get back to Stewart.”
Before Gyles could comment, Howard attempted to lunge out of his seat. The corporals quickly snatched him and slammed him back into the webbing. Gyles shook his head and pointed an index finger at the gag. “Take it off.”
Howard lunged as the gag was removed from his mouth, the soldiers pulling him back into the seat yet again. “Kill the theatrics,” Gyles barked in response. “I need to know what the hell is going on out there.”
“What are you talking about?” Howard shouted.
“The mission, the medical team… all of it. What the hell happened?”
Rose put a hand to his headset and looked at Gyles. “On the ground in five.”
Howard overheard the comment and smiled. “This will all be over for you soon. I’ll have you arrested as soon as we land.”
Letting loose his rage, Gyles didn’t hold back. He threw a quick jab, snapping the man’s head against the fuselage. When the doctor leaned forward, his lips were cut where they’d impacted with freshly broken teeth. The veins in Gyles’s neck bulged. “You want to make threats? Well, in that case, let’s make this interesting.” Gyles let loose another quick punch when he saw that no one would intervene on the doctor’s behalf. “I left most of my platoon dead on the field back there. Men that were my friends. I know their families. Men that I was responsible for. Do you think I care what happens to me now? Do you really want to test me?
“Hell, arrest me. I just want to know why they died!” he shouted, throwing another jab.
This time Rose stepped in and pulled Gyles back. “Okay, he’s had enough. I’m sure the kid is ready to talk to you.”
Howard’s head slumped forward and slowly came up, blood pouring from both of his nostrils. With a broken nose and swollen lips, the young man’s arrogance was gone. He looked at Gyles and said, “You already know it all; we went to get a medical team. Vaccine specialists. It’s not like I wrote the damn orders. It was your job. You idiots can’t blame me for this.”
“I want to know the rest. That wasn’t a riot we saw down there, those were not protestors,” the sergeant said through gritted teeth, flexing his gloved hand while looking at the bloodied spots on his knuckles.
“There is no ‘rest’! What you saw is what I know.”
Gyles snarled and feigned another jab then, instead, reached for his sidearm and chambered a round before sticking it under Howard’s jaw. The doctor tried to pull away.
Rose put up his hands, looking Gyles in the eye. “Easy son. Easy.”
“Fuck that! He talks or he loses the top of his head.” Gyles scowled.
“Okay, okay. There is an outbreak. We don’t know what it is or how to control it. It’s not rioting, it’s not the damn flu… it’s something else. Something new… something worse.”
“What is it?” Gyles said, now pressing his face close and yelling at the officer. “Talk to me or stop talking for
ever.”
Howard shook his head. “It’s classified; I can’t.”
This time Gyles did not feign, delivering a stiff blow to the man’s midsection, causing him to bend over and gasp for air. “I’m running out of patience, and we are both almost out of time.”
“Goddammit, stop!” Howard yelped. “They call it Primalis Rabia.”
“What do you mean Primal what?”
Howard looked down at his bound hands. “It’s a bio attack, an engineered weapon. It was triggered across the globe all at once.”
“Attacked by who?” Gyles asked. “Russians? China?”
Howard shook his head. “Not the Russians or China; so far, they’ve been hit the hardest.”
“Who then?”
Exhaling through pursed lips, Howard reeled back. “The sons of Bin Laden. They are a group operating out of—”
“I know who they are,” Gyles said. “They hit the embassy last month, killed the ambassador, and overran it. No survivors.”
Howard nodded. “There was more to it than that. The Marine commander on the ground confirmed he was fighting the infected. He is the one that called in the bone strike on his own position that ended the attack. Autopsies confirmed the infection.”
“Bone?” Gyles asked.
Rose leaned in. “B-One, Bone.”
Shaking his head, the platoon sergeant looked at Howard with suspicion. “That was a month ago. If we knew about it then, why wasn’t the alert sent out?”
“It had to stay secret. Governments were warned, but they all reacted differently to the intelligence—most with disbelief. We couldn’t just sound a general alarm. We didn’t want the sons jumping the gun before we were ready.”
“A lot of good that did,” Rose said. “You said these attacks were everywhere and simultaneously?”
Howard swallowed. “Yes…Europe, Africa, Asia… they left no stone unturned. We had some warning they were coming, and we tried to stop it here. We shut down the borders. But it moves too quickly, hours from contact to infection and... well, it’s what we saw out there this morning.”
Weaver moved in close, interjecting. “Your story is bullshit, Doc. Hit him again, Sarge.”
“No, no, no, it’s true. Colonel Cloud knows all about it; he wrote these orders. He was the one that sent the team in to investigate the lab in Virginia. They said they were close to a vaccine.”
Gyles put up a hand and moved Weaver back. “You said there was an attack? How come we haven’t heard about this? There has been no news about a bio-attack.”
“I told you. It was worldwide; they triggered it globally through the airports. Martyrs armed with needles infected themselves in populated areas... Focus hasn’t been on the incidents because we have been entirely consumed on stopping the spread.”
Weaver shook his head and prepared to speak, Gyles again raising a hand to silence him. “You said we had advanced warning that this was coming?”
“Some. Somehow our intelligence guys discovered the plan. Rumor was one of the intended martyrs turned himself in to authorities. We tried to stop it, but obviously failed.” Howard shook his head. “I’m telling you the truth.”
Gyles brought his hand up to rub his chin, then nodded for the doctor to continue.
“I don’t know all of the details, but the mission failed. The Whitehouse ordered the borders sealed, grounded all air traffic last weekend. We watched it spread around the world and thought we’d stopped it at the border wall. But then a day or two ago, it began popping up here.”
“Then?” Gyles asked, already knowing the answer. “Why not report it for what it was? Why are we calling it riots when you know what it really is?”
“That’s all above my paygrade.” Howard dropped his head, then lifted it again to lock eyes with the platoon sergeant. “Giving too much alarm would have caused panic. People would have fled, and we would have lost control of it. We needed people to lock up and shelter in place. Colonel Cloud thought it could be contained if we moved fast enough, that it would burn itself out. We thought the infected would wither and die, but they don’t; they get stronger. The CDC thought if we could hold it back until a vaccine or a cure could be developed, we’d be okay. That’s why we were tasked to get the researchers.”
The gear flexed beneath the Chinook as it touched down. Rose, having heard enough, finally interrupted. “Well, we know it’s out now, and we failed to get those vaccine docs. Stewart is on lockdown, and we’re homeless. Is there anything else you can tell us before I drop this ramp?”
With his eyes closed, Howard muttered, “If it’s out there, there isn’t anything we can do. We’re all dead.”
Gyles looked back at Rose. “I think we’re done here.” Rose nodded and worked the controls, dropping the ramp.
“What about him, Sergeant?” Weaver asked, looking down at the medical doctor.
“Keep him locked up until I can figure out what to do with him.”
Chapter Six
Day of Infection Plus Seven, 0800 Hours
The Vineyards National Guard Armory Vines, Virginia.
With Howard’s rants of innocence still filling the air behind him, Gyles made his way down the ramp and onto the cold asphalt tarmac. The temperatures were lower here, and a heavy blanket of fog covered the surrounding terrain. Spinning in a three-sixty, he could see empty pads where rotary aircraft had been, refueling carts, and a row of parked vehicles neatly aligned along a distant hangar.
Directly to his front sat a tall, olive-drab, steel building. A cartoon image of a bald eagle with blood-covered talons squeezing a lifeless crow was painted on a large overhead door, 147th Aviation stenciled in dark-blue lettering below it. A tall fence topped with concertina wire ringed the entire compound. A long sliding gate was chained shut, and on the far side was a blacktop parking lot filled with civilian vehicles. Shifting his eyes, he could not spot any guards or ground crews.
Gyles stepped closer to the fence and saw they were situated on a hilltop overlooking a small town. In the early morning light, he could still see the glow of streetlights and the sparkle of homes. A loud screech and clunk turned his attention back to the steel building. He watched a tall, lanky man approach him from a heavy steel door. The man was dressed in a dark-green flight suit, with a black badge identifying him as Col A. Jessup. Alongside the officer walked two younger soldiers in Army Combat Uniform (ACU) fatigues, carrying M4 rifles.
“Colonel.” Gyles saluted as the man closed the distance.
The colonel returned his salute and fixed his eyes at the rear of the Chinook. “This all you brought?”
The sergeant looked back at his men pouring down the ramp. Weaver was already busy breaking them into teams and positioning the soldiers along the security fence. “Yes, sir. We lost our second bird and half the platoon, including my LT.”
The older man grimaced then nodded. “I got the word from your air crew.” Jessup watched the men running to the perimeter. “We’re all in a world of hurt, I’m afraid.”
“Any word from the outside?” Gyles asked.
The colonel looked at him hard. “I sent my squadron to Andrews Airforce Base this morning to provide air cover and support to the Capital Police Department. Last word I had, the base was overrun. All my people pulled back and moved farther south. Fort Belvoir is the new staging area. I got nothing else in the last two hours; we’re in the dark. The only damn news I’m getting now is on the TV, and they are censoring the hell out it. I was hoping you could tell me something!”
“Sir?” Gyles looked at him blankly.
“What in the fuck is going on?” Jessup asked. “I get woke up at midnight, ordered to recall my squadron, ordered to send every swinging dick I got into the Capital to provide air support. Now they are all off the net, and I got no comms with them. The news shows Washington and Atlanta on fire. No offense to you and your men, but out of the blue I get a shot-up and thirsty bird full of air assault grunts requesting to land in my backyard and borrow some of
my gas.”
“Colonel, we weren’t shot up. It’s worse than that.”
Jessup tightened his brow. “You said you lost half your platoon. I assumed it was from the riots coming out of Washington.”
“No.” Gyles dipped his chin and looked back at the bound medical man still sitting in the Chinook’s jump seat. Rose and other members of the flight crew were scrambling around the Chinook, already beginning the refueling procedures. “Something far worse is happening—” Before he could finish, a single gunshot followed by a loud scream echoed in from the small town below them.
The sergeant spun on his heels, instinctively bringing up his rifle. He could see Sergeant Weaver was already kneeling at the gate beside another soldier, a set of scout binoculars in his hands. “You see anything, Weaver?” Gyles called out.
“Nothing,” the squad leader answered without looking back. More gunfire echoed, chaotic screams filling the still air.
Gyles stepped closer and put a gloved hand on the chain link of the fence, pulling against it as if he was testing its strength, the colonel shadowing him as they stood looking through the gate. On the far side, the drive veered off into the civilian visitors’ lot and then wound down the hill, passing through light tree cover before finally meeting a line of large brick buildings reminiscent of any small town’s main street. Beyond that were smaller homes and neighborhoods. Gyles’s head shifted left and right along the front perimeter with his rifle still at the low ready.
“This isn’t a strategic position, if that’s what you’re thinking; just an armory,” Jessup said, moving closer. “If the violence moves here, we’ll be in trouble. I don’t see it holding.”
