by Lundy, W. J.
Jacob pointed at the far off complex. “I bet that’s the spot,” he whispered to Jesse. Jacob passed off the binoculars to his friend, who put them to his eyes and looked in the direction indicated.
“Dang, that’s a long way. I wonder how we’re supposed to know which one of those has the dioxin,” Jesse whispered. Lowering the binoculars, he looked out over the street below then quickly swiped his head back. “Oh shit, they’re still down there.”
“How many?” Jacob asked.
“Too many. How can this whole city be dead? None of us left, not a single one?” asked Jesse, feeling defeated as he lifted the binoculars back to his eyes and searched farther out. He scanned left to right before spotting another group of them on a far off corner. “They always seem to come out at night. A stereotype that always fits. Monsters come out at night.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Jacob said.
Eyes still glued to the street corner, Jesse asked, “What are they doing here?”
Jacob rose. Leaning back, he used the optics on his rifle to look at the group. There were at least ten of them, all standing together in a tight pack. “I don’t know. Getting ready for dinner?”
Jesse shook his head. “Not just those; I mean all of them.”
“What, you mean like why did it happen?”
Jesse looked down over the edge again, watching the things below. “Yeah, why are they here? What do they want?”
“I don’t know. They don’t seem smart enough to want anything. Hell, I’m just tired of the empty streets. Sometimes, when I see a group of them, I try not to look too hard and pretend they're people just like us. Not just something that we have to kill.”
Jesse laughed. “Better not go saying shit like that too loud, bro. James will smack you in the mouth.”
The group below gathered smartly together and moved as a single entity. They stalked off to the north, leaving their spot. Although not obvious at first, they moved in an organized method, and Jacob was starting to see the pattern. They moved, keeping an even distance from each other. Then they slowly spread out over the street, and in groups of two, splintered out in a large, circular search pattern. As the small groups moved away, the larger group followed them but remained organized in a tight pack.
Jacob took the binoculars from Jesse and searched in all directions. “It’s like a ripple effect.” He dropped the binos and looked at Jesse’s confused expression.
He pointed. “Look… see how they’re spreading out and leaving in groups of two hunters? Now look how the rest of them have centralized themselves. They’re shifting slightly and moving to the centers. See how they’ve spread out, following those hunters? It’s like army ants searching for prey. They send out these tiny hunters on patrol. Once they find something, they call in the main body for the attack. Then they destroy everything in their path.”
Jesse stared back. “It’s exactly like that.”
A noise of boots scraping the roof turned them back. James had moved close and knelt between them. “So what are you girls talking about?”
“Oh, just boys and stuff,” Jesse replied, causing James to laugh.
James leaned his rifle against the ledge. “You two get some shut eye, we’re going to the warehouse tomorrow; you’ll need your strength.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Jacob woke to the smell of brewing coffee. Even before he opened his eyes, he knew it would be Stephens playing barista. Jacob stretched and lifted his head from his sleeping bag. He lay in the open and looked up at the gray sky. Heavy clouds blocked the sun; the outside of his bag was damp with water from the morning dew. “Tell me again why we couldn’t sleep inside.” He groaned as he removed himself from his bag, opening it so that he could sit on the dry fabric as he dressed.
“Better to be out here in the open. Here, have some coffee; it does wonders for your spirit.” Stephens poured part of the contents of the pot into a small cup and passed it across to Jacob, who took it eagerly in his hands. He sipped at the liquid as he looked around the roof. He could see that Rogers was on watch at the far wall. Jesse was still asleep in his bag just across from him. Marks, once again, had the map out, plotting their next move.
“We saw them moving again last night,” Jacob said between sips. The air was cold and he could see the condensation as he exhaled. “There are a lot of them.”
Stephens looked up at him. “Yeah, they move a lot at night; they're nocturnal.”
“No, it was like we saw at the Marina—the predictability of the pattern they follow. I thought about it and I know how we can use it,” Jacob said. “I’m a process engineer; I solve problems, it's what I do.”
Stephens pursed his lips and nodded his head. “I’m listening, Mr. Engineer.”
“It’s like with anything else… have a problem, look for the patterns, right? Like with a Tsunami. How do we know when they are coming?”
Stephens looked at him sideways. “Well, earthquakes then a really low tide.”
“Exactly. All those things sound the warning and an alarm goes off and you head for the hills. With these things, it’s the same principal. We always see a hunter, usually two; they call a warning and it’s followed by a massive wave attack… or the Tsunami. Well, what if we were ready for the Tsunami, even called for it? And what if we had a way to stop it?”
“So we would intentionally trigger the mass, like alert the hunters on purpose instead of hiding from them?” Stephens said skeptically.
“Yeah… but at a place and time of our choosing—a place where we could box them in and kill them all.”
Stephens grinned at Jacob’s sudden enthusiasm. “Maybe you’re right. I’ll bring it up with the L-Tee. Seriously, it’s good work, but right now I need you to focus on the task at hand, okay?”
Jacob nodded and drank the rest of his coffee before pulling on his boots. He got to his feet and kicked Jesse’s bag as he moved past him to find a makeshift, rooftop bathroom.
During the night, the mass on the ground had dissipated and moved on. Currently, they were nowhere to be found, having moved back to their daytime hiding places or wherever they nested during the day. Searching the immediate area, they looked to be alone. The city streets were empty with the exception of the occasional hunter quietly walking the odd street.
Plotting a direct route to the chemical plant took them through a grassy, overgrown area that would provide good cover. On the map, it was designated as a park, but from the rooftop it appeared to be nothing more than a long-forgotten vacant lot. One of those areas that gets returned to nature until the city has funds to do anything else with it. Still, now it would serve their purpose well and give them standoff room as they patrolled forward toward the plant.
After packing up their gear, the team scarfed down Meals Ready to Eat, drank water, and changed out their socks, not knowing what the day would bring. Rogers tried again to reach the Navy ship. Even using the long-range antenna from the top of the building, they failed to get a message out. Slowly, the clouds thinned, opening up and allowing the sun to break through. Marks stood, took a final look around, and ordered them all downstairs.
They opened the stairway door and listened for signs something may have moved in during the night. After feeling confident it was clear, they pressed on. Moving tactically, they followed James back into the musty lobby. Sunlight now filled the space, allowing them to easily navigate. With a quick search of the ground floor, they confirmed the building was empty except for odd bits of furniture. As suspected, the place was vacant long before the fall. They moved the desk away from the door and cautiously stepped back into the now empty street.
The Suburban was where they left it. Every surface on the vehicle was marred. Dented body panels and broken windows showed the effects of the mob pressing against it. They formed up into a tight Ranger column and crept along the sides of the building, hiding in the shadows. James once again moved far ahead on point with Rogers walking slack. The patrol moved slowly. In no hurry, Jame
s checked every corner, ready to knock down any hunter that came into sight before it would have a chance to report their position.
The streets were empty, the sidewalks covered with shards of broken glass. The men had to watch where they stepped to avoid stepping on the fragments and the noise of crushing glass. Jacob roved on, looking at the stalled vehicles. Most suffered broken windows; he could see where people struggled with the things trying to remove them from their cars. Blood on windshields and door handles, bloody tire irons lying in the street. Two blocks of narrow streets filled with death, flanked by commercial brick and concrete buildings before they reached the overgrown field.
James stopped at the edge of the building across from the field and knelt down, observing the way the grass moved and looking for any disparity in the motion. Anything that would indicate someone or something was hiding in the tall grass. He got back to his feet and waved the column forward, leading the way across the street and into the waist-high grass. He stopped when he reached a narrow dirt trail and decided to follow it, as it would allow them to move more quietly and to see what was in front of them. Avoiding the grass silenced their movements, even if it made them easier to see.
Jacob was relieved at being off the city street and back in the open terrain. The air was clear here and the stench of the decay less prominent. As they hiked along, he could push out the horrors of the death-filled streets for just a moment. Although they were walking through a large open field surrounded by tall tree lines, Jacob felt concealed in the space even though he knew the feeling was unfounded. He looked at the trees in the distance and realized any of them could be out there right now, watching, planning their next move… running to intersect them when they left the woods. Jacob shook his head and blinked his eyes rapidly to clear his thoughts then focused on the ground immediately to his front.
At corners on the path, James would halt the patrol, allowing the men to kneel out of sight in the grass while he sneaked ahead with Rogers on slack, keeping him in view. When James was confident the way was clear, Rogers would signal them forward. The trail led them through a low depression and up to a hilltop surrounded by thick, unpruned trees. James guided them to just below the crest of the hill to avoid skylining the team then halted the patrol, the men naturally forming a small defensive circle. The men made a nest and moved together, all facing different directions to provide a security bubble while they rested.
Marks opened his map and spread it out across his lap. James pointed out their current location and the route they would travel. “The plant is on the other side of the hill,” he whispered. “I’ll scout ahead then bring you all up.”
Rogers moved off to the side, trying to take advantage of the elevation to contact the ship. He looked frustrated as he tried different techniques to relay a signal. Jacob sat slightly apart from them, off the trail and low in the grass but still in a position that he could see down the hill. He fished a bottle from his pack and sipped at the water, not wanting to drink too fast; he didn’t know when they would have a chance to refill their bottles.
He spotted movement on the trail below. He flinched and focused his eyes, thinking he saw a flash of gold dart across their back trail. Jacob lifted his rifle and focused on the far off spot, using the weapon’s optics.
“Did you see something?” Stephens whispered, observing Jacob’s change in posture and reaching for his own rifle.
Not immediately answering, Jacob strained his eye and tried to steady the rifle so that he could see into the waist-high grass. He saw the flash of movement again, though this time it darted across then stopped and looked right at him. He took his eye from the scope, lifting slightly over it to look again. Less than a hundred feet away, a bright golden Labrador retriever was sitting on the path looking at them, its tongue out while it panted.
“It’s a dog,” Jacob said.
James crawled to Jacob’s position and looked through the binoculars, verifying his report. “Damn, I ain’t seen one of those in a long time. I thought they were all dead.”
“What do we do?” Jacob asked.
“Well, you saw it, so it’s only fair that you get to shoot it.”
Jacob looked back at James sternly, then at the cold faces of the others. “Fuck you; I ain’t killing no dog. What’s wrong with you?”
James laughed and smacked Jacob on the back. “Just playing with you, bro. We’re not shooting any damn dog. But if it gets to barking, you’ll have to do something about it.”
The dog sat watching them, keeping its distance. Slowly, it stalked closer up the trail, stopping within fifty feet of the strangers before moving back into the tall grass and disappearing. James got them back to their feet and led them over the hill and down the far side into the thicker trees. Jacob looked back behind him and caught a glimpse of the golden dog following them. It popped onto the trail, walking along before slipping back into the high grass.
As James had predicted, they could start to make out the white steel buildings and holding tanks of the chemical plant below. The point man moved them to a tall, thick tree line at the edge of a road running parallel to the chemical plant’s tall chain linked fence. Beyond that was a wide, grassy field—or rather, long uncut lawn—then the steel-sided building.
Joining the huddle, Jacob moved in close to the others across from the fence. He pointed at the tall, white cylinders in the distance. “That’s the tank farm… there should be a pump house or some type of control room nearby. That would be the best place to find a list of what’s where. There should be a large layout inside the guardhouse or control room; there has to be a disaster plan someplace for fire fighters and other first responders. It’s usually inside the gate or security office so emergency workers know what they are dealing with.”
Marks looked at him, surprised; the others stopped and stared. “How do you know all of this?” Marks asked.
Jacob kept his eyes on the tank farm, searching the structures. “Because my day job kept me in factories and manufacturing plants—I know a thing or two about them. There are a shitload of storage tanks over there. If we’re lucky, they will have a class-six label.”
“What, you mean like booze?” James said, stating the military’s designation for alcohol.
“No, I mean like HAZMAT. Look for something that says poison or toxic. But it would be better to find a layout that takes us right to it.”
Marks looked at Stephens, who shrugged. “Makes sense to me. I think we should listen to him,” Stephens whispered.
The team leader pushed the map of the compound to Jacob. “Okay then, where do you suggest we look?”
Jacob took the map and compared it to what he was seeing on the ground in front of him. “We can follow this main fence around to here. Looks like there should be a gatehouse and driver check-in area with a security checkpoint for other visitors. We can check that place for a first responders’ notebook, or something like that. Not every plant has one, but I’ve seen plenty that do.”
“Okay,” Marks said. “James, you take point with Jacob; follow the fence and clear the guard shack. See if he can find this layout directory or notebook thing. We’ll hold up outside, backing you up. If we locate the tanks, we’ll go inside and set up a patrol base before going after it.”
Jacob nodded. Still holding the facility map, he looked it over closely; there were only two tank farms, each with over twenty tanks. It would be difficult and time consuming to locate the dioxin without a schematic if they had to search the tanks one by one. Jacob folded up the paper map and passed it off to Marks. As he did, he saw the golden Labrador retriever walk up just behind them and sit at the outskirts of the group huddle.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
“What the hell do we do with this dog?” James asked.
Jacob put a hand on the retriever’s head and scratched at its ears. The dog wagged its tail and cautiously moved closer, pressing into Jacob, nearly knocking him off balance. Jesse smiled and broke off a piece of jerky he’d b
een carrying in his pocket and fed it to the dog. The dog lapped at it hungrily then licked Jesse’s hand, begging for more.
“No, dammit; don’t go feeding it,” James protested. “Now we’ll never get rid of it.”
Jacob patted the dog on the side. “Don’t worry about it; he’s friendly and done something right to survive out here on his own. We could probably learn a thing or two from him.”
Stephens put his hands up. “Shut up about the dog, James. If it causes problems you can deal with it.”
“Fuck that, I ain’t shooting a dog,” James muttered under his breath.
“Enough.” It was Marks, growing frustrated. “Back to the task at hand. James, let’s get this done; move us out.”
James crouched, and then stood. Looking back, he offered Jacob a hand and rocketed him up to his feet. He put his mouth close to Jacob’s ear. “Just give me room to work. Stay close… but not too close,” he whispered.
Jacob shook his head mockingly then nodded his understanding, allowing James to step off ahead of him, before following along the wooded roadside. Jacob looked back and saw that the rest of the team were on their feet, spread out along the tree line. The dog walked just in front of Jesse, its tongue out like he was on a leisurely stroll through the park, happy to be a member of the pack.
James crept along out front, positioning himself so that he stayed in the shade and shadows of the tall poplar trees. They approached the gate, still concealed in the tree line on the far side of the street. A sign labeled the area as a loading dock entrance—not a main entry for factory and office workers. From the back, the factory was dead, no signs of movement or life. Tall sheet metal buildings with dirty windows stood empty, and a parking lot near the guardhouse was completely void of any vehicles.
James looked back at Jacob and waved him forward. “Looks like this place is closed up tight. We cross together. I’ll work the lock while you cover me.”
