by Lundy, W. J.
Nodding, the black man grinned, pulled a rag from his pocket, and wiped sweat from his forehead. “Okay, Army, so what’s going on? We know this isn’t a civil war like GNN reported all last night. Is this the zombie apocalypse, or not?”
“Full-blown Armageddon, best I can figure,” Gyles answered. “And my doctor here tends to agree.”
Luke held a stiff expression and let his eyes shift from Gyles to Howard and back again. “You’re serious.”
Gyles sighed and locked eyes on the deputy. “Look, we don’t have time for this shit. We need to consolidate our forces. You’ve done good out here, but when those things come in numbers, this flimsy wire won’t do shit to hold them back. I’ve seen it and barely lived through it myself.”
“And what do you suggest?” Luke asked.
Gyles looked at Jenny. She waved a hand. “Luke is my tactical expert; I defer to him.”
“We load up everything you got and get back to the armory,” Gyles said. “Hold out there, hope that help comes for us before the infected do.”
“And what about the town?” Jenny asked. “We still have people here that need saving.”
“I don’t know about that. We tried going door to door earlier.” Luke shook his head. “If what they are saying is true, the town is already lost.”
“We can’t just abandon them,” Jenny retorted.
“No, that’s not what I was suggesting. It’s just unless they come to us, we can’t risk losing more men to go after them,” Luke said. “Listen, I’ll stay back here with the MRAP and patrol the streets for as long as I can. I’ll set up an observation post down the hill from the armory, and if I see survivors I can send them that way.”
Gyles looked back at his men and turned to the sun making its way toward its apex. “I’ll lend you two of my shooters. But listen, if you see a parade headed to town, you need to beat feet to the gates. If we get swarmed, we won’t be able to let you in. And we sure as hell won’t be able to help you.”
Luke laughed. “Bro, this is an MRAP; I got food and water on board for two weeks. If we get swarmed, you’ll be begging me to come inside, not the other way around.”
Chapter Nine
Day of Infection Plus Seven, 1150 Hours.
Vines City Police Department.
With the convoy back online, they left the police barricade. Gyles watched through the rear window as the black MRAP pulled away and followed them, leaving the other MRAP alone at the roadblock. Luke gave them a wave before dropping into the armored vehicle and securing the hatch. Jenny, seated behind him in the Humvee, keyed a handheld radio and performed a quick radio check with Luke before placing it back into a pocket on her chest armor.
The ride through the small town revealed its devastation. Along Main Street, glass from shattered storefront windows littered the gore-covered sidewalks. In residential areas, front doors hung open and bodies lay in yards. Vehicles sat dead in the streets, many with broken windshields and windows, their occupants missing or dead.
Jenny stared ahead, her eyes frozen, her lower jaw trembling. “I tried to stop it. I sent four deputies into town over the last twenty-four hours; none came back,” she said in a low cracking voice. “If it wasn’t for Luke getting me straight, we would have lost the station too.”
“You didn’t know what was happening. How could you?” Gyles asked.
She shook her head. “We knew something was going on, just not what. The state police called it in just after midnight, said there was a lot of southbound traffic on the interstate, many accidents, and a sudden increase in violence. They told us it was panicked civilians getting away from the outbreak in Washington. We’d already heard a little bit about the guard boys up at the armory being recalled, so I took the warning seriously. They asked if we could provide some assistance in managing the traffic along the interstate exits closest to us.
“Tom, my deputy, volunteered to head out toward the highway and block the on-ramp. That’s how he found the Baltimore man. He’d plowed into a tree in a single car accident off the side of 81. The guy was really messed up… broken jaw, broken arms, seizures. Tom called for an ambulance, but nobody was coming. He asked to take the injured man south, drive him to the hospital himself. I agreed, but he stalled out when he found both lanes were congested with people fleeing from the north. He really wanted to get some help for that man.” She paused and took several deep breaths. “I ordered him back here.
“I knew something was off when the road into town backed up. We don’t get traffic like that this late in the summer. This is Vines City, population five hundred. If it wasn’t for the armory, this place wouldn’t even be on the map—hell, even with the armory, it isn’t on most maps. People only stop in this town for gas on the way to the national forest—” She stopped, looking ahead to the still-burning station. A charred firetruck was a part of the flames, and a Vines City patrol car sat empty with the driver door open.
“When that happened”—she pointed toward the fire—“I should have pulled everyone back. Hell, maybe I should have just sent them home and closed the station. Cut them loose, told everyone to get out of town … maybe they’d still be alive. Their families would still have a chance.”
“You couldn’t have known,” Gyles said again, having no other response.
“I should have known. The way that man from Baltimore acted when he finally woke up in the back of Tom’s patrol car, the mixed radio reports about the riots and spread of infection… I should have known. Luke knew. I think in some way even Tom knew. Luke knew as soon as he saw the man, told me I needed to lock down the intersection, but still I waited.” Her eyes filled with tears and she looked away. “I still sent out the damn patrols. I allowed the volunteer firefighters to respond to the station. I let traffic through. I let this happen! I’m responsible for all of it.”
“It’s in the past; none of that matters now,” Gyles said.
She shook her head and turned toward the window. “They came just after three in the morning. A few at first, but before we could react, the phones were off the hook, people begging for help. We aren’t a big department; the only reason I have as many officers as I do is because of all the rural homes and cabins close to the national forest. I just didn’t have the people to respond to every call. We had to listen to people being attacked while they waited on the phone, screaming for help… they died waiting for help that wouldn’t come.
“I had men down all over town and no way to back them up. They called for backup, and I had nobody to send. The state and county police went offline just after the first attacks. Luke finally insisted that we button up and block the roads, to recall all the reserve deputies. I didn’t know what else to do… in twenty years, I’ve never seen anything like this.”
“We’ve all seen a lot of firsts today.” Trying to change the focus of conversation, Gyles said, “Who is he, this Luke? He seems to have his shit in one box.”
She furled her lip. “Luke? He’s a local boy; guess he’s our sleepy town’s very own war hero. He went off to the Marines after high school. He came back here and swore he was retired, but we managed to talk him into taking a part-time job with the department. He sort of works as our armorer. Does a lot of range training with us. Helps out in the summer when we get bogged down with tourists.”
“What did he do? With the Marines, I mean.”
“Not a hundred percent sure. He said he was a scout; well, he never said it, but that’s what the tattoo says. He doesn’t talk much about his time in the service. But he’s a good man. He knows his stuff. My husband trusted him.”
“Your husband?”
Jenny gritted her teeth and closed her eyes, turning back toward the passenger window. “Tom… he was the deputy that brought in the man from Baltimore,” she said, her voice breaking and trailing off.
“Was he infected?” Howard asked her, speaking for the first time since leaving the barricade.
“Yeah,” she whispered. “He didn’t notice the scra
tch at first, but he felt it coming on… the shakes and the vomiting. Purple streaking around the wound. He left us… I know he took care of it so no one else would have to. He didn’t even say goodbye. He just left.”
“He was right to do it,” Howard said. “There’s no cure; there’s just no coming back from it.”
She nodded her head in agreement, looking at the doctor before covering her face so the men couldn’t see her grief. “Tom was always like that… putting everyone else first.”
The men remained silent, not knowing what to say. When the armory gates appeared to their front, the vehicle slowed. Gyles watched as two of his soldiers unchained the entrance and rolled back the gate, allowing the trucks to enter. Gyles opened the door and dismounted, letting the others gather around him. He could see that the fortifications were complete; more wire had been strung along the perimeter fencing, men were positioned on the roof of the steel hangar, and others had dug in on the inside corners of the fence. Soldiers opened the back of the MRAP and began unloading cans of ammunition.
Gyles turned and saw Colonel Jessup approaching. The colonel stretched out his hand to Jenny. “Sheriff Weber, good to see you.”
She took his hand and nodded without responding. Jessup turned back to Gyles. “Things are getting worse. We lost the news networks. Everything crashed about an hour ago—power, TV, Internet… all of it. We just switched to backup generators. They’ll stay cranking out juice as long as we have natural gas.”
“Any word from command?” Gyles asked.
“Nothing. We’re on our own.”
Gyles frowned. “What does that mean, exactly?”
“It’s over… they’re evacuating all the government leaders to secure locations. They’ve lit the fuse on something they’re calling Operation Hecatomb.”
Howard moved ahead quickly. “Excuse me, Colonel, did you say Hecatomb?”
“Ahh, Doctor Howard, is it? Glad you could join us. Yes, they said Operation Hecatomb. Are you familiar with it?”
The color drained from Howard’s face. “We can’t stay here.”
“Details, Lieutenant,” Jessup said, his face turning hard. “If you know something, son, now is not the time to keep it to yourself.”
“Operation Hecatomb is a highly classified CDC contingency plan; it literally means sacrifice. If they transmitted that word over the open radio net, then it’s a go. Its sole design is to stop the spread of a virus… and stop it at all costs. Sure, on paper there are caveats to limit civilian casualties, but that’s not the objective and won’t stop them from completing the mission’s purpose. Civilians are carriers and contribute to the spread, if they are moving toward a hard site, they will be considered legitimate targets.
“Sir, if they’ve really started Hecatomb, it means the virus has now spread out of control, beyond the containment lines drawn up by the CDC. They will begin firebombing heavy concentrations of infected areas. They will sacrifice large populations to spare others. The military will make last-ditch efforts to secure some of the large cities not affected by infection; they’ll cordon off and close highways.” Howard frowned then shook his head. “No… I imagine that has already failed. They’ll pull back to remote locations and dig in.”
Jessup’s brow tightened and a hand drifted to massage the back of his neck. “What do you think, Sergeant?”
“I can’t get you all out,” Gyles said pointedly. He looked back at the trucks. “Even with every bit of armor and the Chinook, we’d still be leaving half of our people behind. If the sheriff knows a place, I’ll keep the soldiers here and hold the fort while they evacuate. You can take the trucks, load up as many as you can, leave us here on foot. Maybe you can get all of the women and children out at least.”
Jenny set her jaw. “And go where? To some remote farm, or a cabin in the mountains? And what do I do with a convoy full of women and kids and no soldiers to protect them when we get there?” she said. “I don’t think we’ll find anything better than this.”
A cacophony of gunfire echoed in the distance—the distinctive crack of Luke’s AR-10. “Sergeant, they’re coming!” a soldier from the gate yelled. “There are a lot of them.” High-pitched, feverish screams added to the urgency of the soldier’s voice.
Gyles gritted his teeth and turned to Jessup. “Get inside and secure the building best you can. Lock us out and don’t come looking for us; if we need something, we will come to you.” He grabbed the sheriff by the shoulder. “Take your people inside with the colonel. Hold the entryways. Nothing gets inside; there are civilians in there. Your officers’ priority is to protect them. If you must fall back, go to the roof and barricade the stairs.”
Jenny shook her head, removed her cap, and pulled thick brown hair away from her forehead. She looked at him with concerned eyes. “Come inside with us.”
“No.” Pushing Howard ahead of him, he said, “But take my doctor. My men and I will stay out here. This is what we do.”
She reached into a pouch on the back of her vest and handed him a Motorola radio. “Take this. If you need help, call.”
“Likewise,” Gyles said.
Chapter Ten
Day of Infection Plus Seven, 1325 Hours
The Vineyards National Guard Armory Vines, Virginia.
Gyles looked over Weaver’s shoulder at the newly acquired police MRAP, which towered above them to their rear. His machine gunner was inside the open turret. Other men lay on the massive vehicle’s roof, taking advantage of the high vantage point. He could hear the second MRAP fighting somewhere in town; from the sounds, it was still some distance away.
At the bottom of the hill, shadowy shapes moved in the trees, shifting among the thick foliage on the edges of the blacktop road. Weaver, who knelt behind the barrier of sandbags and earth in the corner of the compound, pointed to an advancing group of infected. They clung to the shoulders of the blacktop road that wended down the hill to the main street. Some moved as close as the large overflow parking lot before disappearing among the vehicles less than a football field away. They stalked in tight groups, staying out of sight. Or at least attempting to.
“We should have cleared that parking lot out,” Gyles said, keeping his eye to the optics. “We left them a place to hide.”
“Fuck it. If it gets hairy, I’ll put a mag full of red tips into those vehicles’ gas tanks. Let the bastards cook,” Weaver grunted.
Gyles laughed the way soldiers staring at death often do. “I like the way you think. Pull everyone up to this fence line except a small team and a gun truck on the back approach for rear watch.”
“Already done, boss,” Weaver whispered.
The sergeant grimaced and spoke loud enough so that the gunner on the MRAP could hear him. “If they break the cover on that lot, light their asses up. We have to keep them off the fence so the MRAP can get through.”
“What about us?” a soldier to his right asked. Gyles looked at the young private. Unlike the rest of his men armed with M4 carbines and advance optics, this soldier carried an older model M16. Gyles knew he was one of the armory’s men. He looked barely out of high school and scared to death.
“No, not you. I want you to hold your fire. Do not shoot unless something breaks through and gets to our immediate front. Your job is to protect the fence and gate security. Keep everything off it, shoot them right in the face from feet away—can you do that?”
The soldier stared at him with frightened eyes before swallowing hard and nodding his head. “Yes, Sergeant,” he said, turning back to the front.
Gyles heard the distant MRAP growing closer, the sounds of the AR-10 barking louder with every second. In the tall grass to the front, he could see them moving. In single file, the things formed a column, the grass shifting with their movements as they approached in an ant-like formation in search of prey. Gyles watched as one of them broke cover and darted across an open space, seeming to fear the lack of concealment. Not as brazen as they were in the cover of darkness, they acted differe
ntly in daylight.
A quick burst from the gunner in the MRAP turret, and the sprinting man tumbled forward. Like firing a starter’s pistol, the infected emerged from cover all along their front. For every one Gyles thought he’d spotted earlier, at least ten more existed in the shadows of the trees.
They charged forward in a monstrous human wave. Screaming primal roars from their rage-filled faces, they advanced. Sickening cries and howls followed the human wave. The machine gunner on the MRAP went cyclic, spitting 7.62 rounds into the infected swarm at a rate of 500 rounds per minute. The mass was shredded in the open, the infected eventually drifting into the cover of the parking lot but not quitting. Weaver pushed up to a knee and loaded the magazine from his vest filled with tracer rounds. Firing in semi-auto, he pumped shots into the space just behind the cab of a large pickup truck. After five shots, the Ford truck burst into flames. Not stopping, Weaver shifted fire to an SUV on the far side of the lot. Soon, the parking area was an inferno of black roiling smoke and screaming infected.
The creatures howled, running at the fence with their clothing engulfed in flames. They broke through the last of the overgrown grass and spread out, running for the compound gates. Gyles raised his own rifle and fired two well-placed shots into the face of a stocky man. Signaling with his own gunfire, the men who were dug into the base of the fence joined in, knocking down the last of the advancing monsters. Gyles looked up from his optics; the field to the front was clear, nothing remained on its feet. At the base of the hill, he spotted a blur of motion. The second MRAP was racing up the narrow street and turning onto the base access road.
The armored vehicle’s front grill was covered in gore. Dead creatures clung to the sides in grotesque death grips. Parts of bodies hardly recognizable as human were ground into the fenders and treads of the large vehicle. Without slowing, the black armored truck raced to the gate and screeched to a stop. A helmeted head popped from the roof-mounted turret. “Open the gate!” Luke screamed. “I got shit loads of hungry bastards on my ass!”
