by Lundy, W. J.
That other side of the war, the mass of infected traveling westward, was just starting to show itself to the naked eye along the horizon. It looked like a tiny, dark mountain range that was slowly growing larger.
“How long are we going to stay here?” Jose asked, not bothering to keep the discomfort from his tone.
“Just until we get paid, bro. Just until we get paid,” Ian replied.
“Ah, you know that money ain’t worth a shit anymore, right?” Kinsey asked.
“Yep, been thinking about that.”
“We can’t stay here,” Kinsey said with a look of disgust upon her face.
“I know.”
The medical center was guarded by one man at the apron of the parking lot, wearing olive-drab fatigues in full battle-rattle. Ian didn’t recognize the branch, as the man bore no insignia, but he seemed attentive enough. At the main door, there were two guards who looked a lot less soldierly than the first one, telling the team that they, too, were contractors… of a sort. Local mercs brought in for basic security reasons. Otherwise, the building could have been abandoned. Dark windows and an overall lack of activity gave it an eerie vibe.
They had parked the post-apocalyptic beast across the street and around the corner, behind an apartment building that had been gutted by fire inside, leaving a hollow, black, brick shell. It wasn’t the first building they saw like that. In fact, they were in an entire community of them. They deemed burnt-out buildings as the safest place to hide, since having their wheels trapped behind a mile of concertina wire and chain link was not in the plan, nor was having it confiscated or reclaimed. That vehicle was their salvation; losing it would put them on the same level as the rest of the world, and Ian didn’t think their chances were good there. As they walked up to the gate, the guard in the cheap fatigues watched them closely but didn’t stop them. His eyes were locked on the satchel over Ian’s shoulder. It acted like a free pass for him, however that was not the case when it came to the rest of the crew.
“Whoa, bro. My crew stays with me.”
“Sorry, merc, but they’re not on the menu,” the guard stated, showing his disdain for other contractors.
“Not a problem. We’ll just take this satchel that Dr. Sanjay has been waiting on over to Briggs Field and see if the commander there has a use for it,” Ian replied.
The guard glared at him, but not enough that Ian couldn’t see his tiny mind cranking through his options. “All right,” he finally said. “But they stay out of the building.”
“No go. My people stay with me, and that’s your final option.” Ian paused and watched the man try to douse his fuse.
Ian had dealt with chumps like him all of his life. They’re nothing but piss ants with a gun, and all that much more volatile because they knew it. The guy in front of him probably did two or three years in the military and got out so he could brag about his illustrious career—during which he never saw combat. Sure, he might have done a stint in the Sandbox, but it was probably guarding munitions or watching a gate to the motor pool. Not all private hires were that way, but there was a large number who were, and this dude was a perfect example of one.
To his credit, he made a phone call.
“All right, they can go in as far as the lobby, but only Ian McCollister can go upstairs to the third floor. Once you get up there, you’ll wait for Dr. Sanjay.”
“Fair enough,” Ian said and started through the gate. There were actual MPs at the desk where they checked their guns. The guards didn’t bother to search them, which informed Ian of their professional level. Granted, they too were contractors, but a person could do just as much damage with a 1911 as they could with a SCAR. For a moment, it looked as if the MPs were going to search Kinsey, and they all knew what that was about.
Neither Toby nor Jose would allow that shit to fly, and Kinsey knew it. They stepped between her and the two soldiers, who quickly backed down and waved them on inside.
“Mr. McCollister, I presume?”
“Yes sir.” Ian stood.
The man, whom Ian assumed was Dr. Sanjay, reached out his hand. He shook the doctor’s limp grip for a moment until he realized that he hadn’t reached out to take his hand; he wanted the satchel. Ian withdrew his hand and gave the bag to him. It wasn’t lost on him that the doctor wiped his palm on the leg of his pants.
“It must be getting pretty bad out there if it took you this long to get here,” Dr. Sanjay said. “Did the Hummer break down?” Apparently, he didn’t know about the switch in vehicles.
“No sir. We abandoned the Humvee a ways back and requisitioned a four-door pickup, which made it to the outskirts of El Paso before it took a crap on us,” Ian lied, giving him the description of the pickup truck that they’d followed along the utility access route outside of Atlanta.
“I see; too bad. We could have used that here,” Dr. Sanjay said as he fished a small key out of his pocket. He inserted the key into the bag’s locking mechanism and twisted it.
Ian waited silently for further instructions, but the man turned and walked away, ignoring him as if he’d never existed. Ian didn’t have a good feeling about this, and the place had the decomp stench that permeated the rest of the city, which was odd, as the mechanical and HVAC systems seemed to be working fine. Ian sat down and waited, then waited some more.
Three hours later Dr. Sanjay came back down the hallway from whatever lab he’d been stashed away in. When he saw Ian still sitting in the lobby, he frowned. Ian stood awkwardly, knowing for sure now that the doctor had forgotten all about him.
“Mister… McCrowsky?”
“McCollister,” Ian replied.
“Yes, well…what are you still doing here?”
“Our business is not concluded, sir. I require final payment, and I would like to see if you have anything else for us.”
“For you?”
“Yes, as in work, sir.”
“Oh. Oh yes, yes, yes. Ah… No, I’m sorry, but I don’t have anything for you. You know, with the military pitching in and all.”
“Not a problem, sir. Then there’s only the matter of compensation.”
“Yes, let me contact my secretary, and I’ll forward the amount to your account. With bonuses, of course,” he added, thinking that would be the end of the story.
“I’m sorry, sir, but that’s not acceptable. You’re aware that the banking system as a whole took a crap a couple of weeks ago, are you not?” He shook his head. “Yes, sir. It’s not good out there, and that complicates things.” Ian wanted to take it out of his hide for making him wait for three hours, not to mention that he just didn’t like the muffer as Kinsey would call him.
“I guess I don’t have a solution, Mr. McClosky.”
“It’s McCollister, sir. Please try and remember.”
“I don’t think I like your attitude,” Dr. Sanjay said belligerently, not realizing that Ian saw him press what he assumed was a panic button on his sleeve.
Ian pressed the phone-to-radio setting in response and said, “Yellow.”
The code word alerted the crew that something was going down. Ian slid the phone back into his breast pocket and pulled his 9mm out of the back of his waistband.
“I assure you that there is no need for this type of behavior, McClosky.”
“I don’t know if you noticed this, Doctor, but the world’s gone to shit, and I have a sneaking suspicion it’s due to people like you.” Ian based that belief on how early they’d started hoarding resources at his facility.
Ian let that sink in a second, noticing that though he didn’t flinch or look fearful, Dr. Sanjay didn’t bother to deny the outlandish accusation. Why? And what was a doctor like him doing in a hospital protected by the military? Not protected very well, but protected nonetheless.
Ian saw a look of relief on the doctor’s face when the elevator door opened to allow two MPs to step out, but that relief vanished when Ian put the pistol barrel up hard under the man’s chin.
They leveled the
ir M4s, but a female voice from behind stopped them.
“Be good now and set those trinkets down, gentlemen,” Kinsey said as she leveled her 1911 on the two men, the suppressor extending the barrel to an intimidating length. Their rifles held more rounds, but the .45’s bullets were bigger, and the handgun was better in tight spaces like the hallway. But more importantly, she had the drop. They lowered their weapons and slowly set them on the floor.
“Sidearms too, please. Thank you. Now face the wall, and please, let’s not interrupt the gentlemen during their negotiations.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. McCollister. I paid your past employer for your contract.”
“That’s a lie, Doctor. He confirmed that you were responsible for interaction from that point forward, and you confirmed it when you mentioned that bogus money transfer. So…since banks no longer exist, and money is no longer worth the paper that it’s printed on, we need to establish some sort of monetary compensation that we can both live with—live being the operative word here.”
“Surely you wouldn’t actually kill me with all of these soldiers around.”
“Soldiers? They are MPs mixed with second-rate contractors, Dr. Sanjay, not operatives. There’s a huge difference. However, we need not talk about such severe action at this point, as I’m sure there’s something on site with which we can reach equitable compensation. Maybe back in your laboratory, perhaps?”
“No! No, there is nothing back there for you. What do you suggest, Mr. McCollister?”
“Isn’t it amazing how easy it is to remember a person’s name when they have a gun pointed to your head?” Ian said and looked at the greasy little man, knowing that they were more than compensated with the truck and supplies stashed just two blocks away. Ian was not a thief, but this chump had really pissed him off in the few short weeks he’d known him, so he would make sure he paid for his transgression. There was also something suspicious about him that got under Ian’s skin. He didn’t turncoat on clients as a rule, but sometimes it’s a necessary evil, especially when the evil is theirs.
“What was in the satchel?” Ian asked and grabbed his lab coat so he could shove the barrel up tight against the underside of his jaw again.
“Tha…that’s not your business,” he gasped.
“Usually you’re right, but the world has taken a bit of a turn.” Ian angled his elbow up. “If I shoot like this, I sever your spine and paralyze you for life—if it doesn’t kill you.” Ian leaned in and whispered into his face, “I call it the Stephen Hawking.”
Yeah, it was a terrible thing to say, but this guy was dirty, he could feel it.
Ian angled his elbow way down to his torso, bringing the barrel up straighter. “This will blow your face off; literally run a blast pattern up the front of your face. It probably won’t kill you, but it will stop you from visiting McDonalds for a while.” The stairway doors opened in front of him, and he saw Jose and Toby with their rifles.
Ian’s back was now covered, and there was no way the building held a garrison. From what they had seen on the east side of the city, he knew there was no one to call to for help. A mass of thousands of infected were rushing breakneck across the desert, devouring everything in their path, and Ian knew they were not ready for something that size, regardless of the military’s perimeter.
“Okay, okay. It’s a formula to start fighting this…thing,” the doctor said as he cowered under his grasp. Ian doubted Sanjay had been exposed to a physical threat since high school.
“That is very interesting, Mr. Sangay.”
“It’s Doctor Sanjay,” he moaned.
“We’ll worry about your name later. The result of this conversation might render the point of your name moot.” Ian paused for dramatic effect; he wanted to see if the man would piss himself or start to whimper. He didn’t, but he was close.
“Sorry, ah… Yes, it does concern the virus and yes, it is interesting,” he started hesitantly, his ploy obvious. He would now start to act super intelligent and try to turn Ian’s own thought patterns against him.
“I’ll tell you why it’s interesting, Dr. Sanguay,” Ian said, stopping Sanjay’s attempt to correct him with a glare. This was his way of saying that bullheadedness would beat the crap out of the doctor’s intellect any day of the week.
“You see, that satchel came to us on the second day of the outbreak in a facility I spent six weeks putting together specifically for this purpose. It was found wrapped around the shoulder of a teenage girl who had no business whatsoever being a bonded courier.” Ian noted the quick look of confusion at the mention of the girl who had been shot at the gate.
“It’s simple deduction, which, of course is all that someone of my limited intellect is capable of,” Ian continued. “I’ve come to see a discrepancy within the timeline to the point where I feel that you knew about this virus thing—if it really is a virus—before it happened. In fact, I believe you knew about it for quite some time before it happened. How?”
“No, no… That’s nonsense. Nobody could have known.”
“You’re not convincing me, Doctor!” Ian scowled, making sure his coffee-tinged travel breath washed across his face.
“No, I didn’t know anything unti…”
“Until when?”
He wilted and replied, “Until it was already…”
54
Outside El Paso, Texas
April 24th
Sidney looked in the rearview mirror for the thousandth time—five thousandth time. It was still there, and off to her front as well. It was like the city was in a giant bowl, the skies above clear except for all the planes and helicopters.
Two days of hard travel since the incident at the hotel had put her only a few miles outside of the city of El Paso and the Army base there, which the Internet said was designated as the closest, and only, reachable safe zone since New York City was besieged from land.
All the gas stations were closed down now, so she’d had to resort to siphoning gas from the many abandoned cars along the way, most of which were the scene of terrible carnage. She figured that staying in DC had been both a blessing and a curse. The crazy, awful first days of madness had passed by while they were hidden away safely, but it also meant that she was behind the leading edge of the infected. Of course, she wasn’t really sure if there was a “front line” in all of this since there’d been reports of infection all over the US at roughly the same time.
What the hell was this thing? It had to be terrorists. There was no way a virus would spontaneously mutate several places at once. Although, if it happened in an airport and passengers were infected without even knowing it… She’d probably never know the truth, but with no radio and hours upon hours of nonstop driving, it gave her something to think about.
The rain had died down after she left the hotel, replaced by a weird, giant dust storm in the east and west. She tried to find information about the storm when she took breaks to stretch her legs and pee, but nothing came up—not that even that was out of the ordinary, as more and more Internet sites were going down or only displayed cached pages with no new content.
“What is that, Rickie?” she asked the cat. He mewled at the mention of his name, and she glanced over to the passenger seat where she’d strapped his carrier. Technically, it wasn’t the safest spot for him if the airbag deployed, but she figured if she got into an accident, the cat being stuck in its car carrier, safe and secure in the back seat, just waiting for one of those infected fuckers to come and eat him wasn’t the best option either.
The car bucked wildly as she hit something. Instinctively, she pressed her foot on the brake, but thought better of it and took her foot off. She didn’t put it on the gas pedal either, which allowed the car to travel forward at a much slower rate than she’d been going.
In the rearview, she saw a thick, rubber mound that stretched from one side of the road to the other and off into the sandy scrub brush alongside the road. “Whoa,” she whistled and pressed the brake, pulling ove
r onto the shoulder.
She checked the surrounding area. It was wide open in this part of western Texas. She didn’t see anything, so she opened the car door to get a better look at the glinting object off the side of the road. A massive line of barbed wire stretched as far as she could see toward the south. It blended in with the sand and pitiful brown brush dotting the countryside, which is why she hadn’t seen it when she was driving at sixty miles an hour. The barbed wire was that curly kind that the military used—concert-something or other—but it was only one row high. The stuff she saw on television was usually two or three high.
“Huh,” Sidney grunted, absently rubbing her flat stomach where the baby was probably the size of a pea inside of her. “I guess they’re only using one row because they’re gonna make a big circle around El Paso…”
She trailed off as a line of cars appeared over a small rise from the east. She’d seen a ton of cars and trucks on her trip, all headed west, until this morning when she had to stop to pee again. It’d been at least two hours since she saw any since then. She just figured she’d gotten into a set speed with everyone trying to conserve fuel and make it as far as they could before they had to walk. To see—she counted quickly—twelve cars all traveling together was strange after all that time.
The first car slowed down as it neared her, and Sidney suddenly felt very stupid—and very exposed—for being out on the open road, all alone, and without any weapons.
Weapons, her mind repeated the word. She’d needed weapons on several occasions since this started and hadn’t had one except for the kitchen knife. She needed something with a little more reach-out-and-touch-someone range, like a gun preferably, but at the very least a baseball bat. That way she didn’t have to be within the grasp of someone to defend herself.
