The Redivivus Trilogy (Book 3): Miasma

by Kirk Withrow

  Eventually, her grunts of exertion gave way to resignation as she grew tired from fighting. Bayani was under no illusion that this was an indication of her acceptance. The little girl’s eyes still blazed with a calculating intelligence that told him she was more likely biding her time than resigning herself to her fate, whatever that might be.

  Bayani questioned her, but she refused to speak at all. When he addressed her by her name, he saw a hint of surprise flash through her eyes. Almost instantly, she reverted to her icy, defiant glare that seemed to be filled with a million thoughts. He wasn’t sure what it was about her expression that he found so disturbing. Perhaps it was that she showed no sign of fear, or perhaps it was that her eyes seemed to tell the entire story of her experience since the start of the outbreak. Whatever the case, Bayani knew that such a look had no place on the face of a child. He forced this glimmer of humanity out of his mind before he bound and gagged her, and delivered her to Connor.

  20

  Garza was roused by a sound like a plague of locusts from Hell descending upon him. He instinctively brought his hands up to shield his face as he squinted into the sun in search of the insects responsible for the buzzing roar. The sound continued to intensify even though he saw nothing. When a shadow momentarily blocked out the sun’s intense rays, Garza worried it might be some deranged bird of prey swooping down. Perhaps they were becoming as desperate as the rest of the world. An unusually strong breeze washed over him, cooling his skin that burned in the sweltering sun. In contrast to everything else, the breeze felt quite good. When his eyes regained focus, he stared up in disbelief.

  “What the…”

  Like the giant eye of a mechanical bird, the lens watched him cautiously. The aircraft lurched upward when he sat up, as if it knew the danger he posed. Garza scanned the area in search of the person piloting the drone hovering overhead. Having seen far more sophisticated drones used in combat, he knew the pilot could be virtually anywhere. All of a sudden, it dawned on him that what he’d heard flying between the buildings that morning had been the drone. Who’s flying that thing? And how long have they been watching us? How the hell is such a high-tech piece of equipment still functional?

  Garza didn’t see the pilot, or anyone else for that matter. The drone hovered about thirty feet above him, its camera panning around as it took in the details of Garza and his surroundings. He understood that the drone itself posed no threat to him. It was a far cry from the weaponized UAVs employed by the military, and it had already gleaned all the intel about him that there was to get. His more pressing concern was the pilot…and Anthony. Thinking of the boy made him realize that he didn’t have time to worry about the thing buzzing overhead. He needed to come up with a plan to save the boy.

  Garza moved around the side of several large air conditioning units on the roof. This provided him the most cover from anyone who might be hiding in the adjacent building. He crouched down and racked his brain for any ideas about how to get Anthony out of the predicament he was in. As expected, the drone moved into position overhead. Garza sighed as he looked up at the thing.

  “Well, whoever’s flying that thing already knows I’m here, so there’s no reason to try to hide from it.”

  Garza unslung his rifle and began rooting through his pack. When he found what he was looking for, he set the bag to the side. He uncapped the permanent marker and began hastily scrawling a single word in large block letters on the top of one of the nearby air ducts.

  FRIENDLY

  He leaned back against the A/C unit and drank greedily from the water bladder in his pack. The drone dipped up and down a few quick times before backing away a short distance and setting down on the rooftop. Garza stared at it in confusion. He wondered if it was in response to his message. A few moments later, its propellers started whirring and it rose into the air once again, though not very high. It flew sideways in a slow arc, as if to ensure that it kept Garza’s attention. Taking the bait, he slid to the edge of his cover before peering around. The drone flew to the edge of the roof, where it landed once again. Garza smirked when he saw the wiry man standing in the open atop the adjacent building—controller in one hand, waving with the other. Not knowing what else to do, Garza stood, moved into the open, and waved back.

  As though the gesture had offended the unmanned aircraft, its propellers roared to life and it lurched into the air violently. In a few seconds it was hovering over the pilot and beginning its descent. Garza watched as the man pulled something from a case and began hastily working on the drone. For a moment, Garza had the irrational fear that he might somehow be arming the thing. When the drone took flight once again, there was something dangling from a thin cable attached to one of its landing skids, causing Garza to wonder whether his concern was in fact irrational. He let out the breath he’d been holding when he saw what appeared to be a handheld radio dangling from the drone. He took hold of the walkie-talkie when it swung into reach. The drone flew back toward the pilot as soon as it had delivered its cargo. Even from a distance, Garza thought the pilot looked relieved to have his toy safely back in his possession.

  Garza pressed the talk button and said, “This is Sgt. Hector Garza with the United States Army. Whom am I speaking with?”

  There was a pause followed by a crackle. “Uh…um…this is…um…Jeremy…”

  Once again, there was silence. Garza stared at the radio waiting for more, but nothing came. He looked across to the other building, and Jeremy waved to him once again.

  The drone pilot looked to be in his late twenties and wore tattered jeans, a T-shirt, and a flannel shirt tied around his waist. His shoulders hunched forward as he held the radio awkwardly and shifted his weight from side to side.

  “I guess social skills aren’t his strong suit,” Garza murmured under his breath.

  He spent the next several minutes learning about the drone pilot and filling him in on Anthony and his current predicament. He learned that Jeremy was an A/V guy who worked for an aerial photography firm that had been doing a shoot in Atlanta when the outbreak began. He and his crew were trapped on an office tower roof with a few other survivors.

  Using his drone for surveillance, Jeremy located a window washer trapped on the adjacent building. Given the man’s occupation, he had plenty of rope. He also had a small gas generator as well as some solar equipment. The latter, as it turned out, was how Jeremy currently charged the drone batteries. At first, they communicated using handwritten messages until Jeremy got the idea to use his drone to deliver a handheld radio just as he had to Garza. Shortly after that, they used the drone to ferry rope between the buildings to create a bridge. They quickly expanded their domain by connecting several other buildings in a similar fashion. Crossing over the rope bridges was unnerving, but the window washer had several harnesses that added a safety element. Having witnessed the dangers posed by the infected on the ground, it was a risk they were willing to take. As they explored other buildings, they found other survivors and soon established something of a rooftop domain.

  Jeremy grew quiet when Garza asked the location of the rooftop kingdom and why Jeremy was out here alone instead of with the others he’d mentioned. Sensing it was a painful topic, Garza decided not to press him for an answer.

  After a long pause during which Garza wondered if the man was done talking entirely, Jeremy said, “I’m not much of a fighter, but I may be able to help by luring some of the stenches away with my drone. The sound is like catnip to those nasty bitches. That’s what we do to clear an area when we need to descend.”

  Nasty bitches? Stenches? Garza hadn’t heard anyone refer to the revs by those names before, but both described the infected to a T. The mere thought of the rancid odor of so many infected in the narrow confines of the hardware store made him instantly nauseous. He couldn’t even imagine how bad it must smell trapped inside the overturned bathtub. Garza immediately felt sorry for the boy, but then remembered he had no sense of smell. The realization made him chuckle.<
br />
  “Thank God for small miracles.”

  Garza shook his head to clear his mind. He needed to focus. Peering over the edge near the front of the building, he saw a group of nearly twenty infected gathered around the entrance. Looking down at the side entrance through which the infected had swarmed, he saw only a few revs milling about. Garza envisioned the building’s layout as something akin to a plan began to materialize in his mind.

  He brought the radio to his mouth, and said, “What kind of range do you have with that thing, and how long can it fly? Can you fly it in dark spaces?”

  Jeremy’s voice took on a far more confident and upbeat tone when he responded to Garza’s questions. “A couple of miles with no obstructions. The solar charger is so damn slow, and I haven’t had time to top off my batteries. I can probably fly for a little less than ten minutes before I’d have to change batteries, maybe another five after that. The dark is no problem since I attached a couple of LED spots.”

  “Good. How much clearance do you need? Can you fly it through an opening that’s about one by two meters?”

  “No problem. I used to bull’s-eye womp rats in my T-16 back home. They’re not much bigger than two meters,” Jeremy said with a chuckle that culminated in a snort.

  “What? Never mind. Give me a second,” Garza replied.

  He didn’t have time to figure out what the man was going on about. Anthony was still trapped inside, and he had no idea how long the boy could hold out. He moved over to the skylight and peered in. The god-awful stench that assailed him made him gag. Even though he wanted to turn away, he reminded himself that what Anthony was enduring had to be a thousand times worse. He saw nothing but darkness, but the dull thuds and rasping moans told him there was much more below. The fact that the infected still seemed to be congregated around the tub gave him hope that Anthony was still alive.

  All of a sudden, Garza heard a sound that made his heart swell. He turned and ran to the roof’s edge. Charon offered a confirmatory bark as if to say “who else did you think it would be?” Despite the fact that the dog looked as though he’d been to Hell and back, his tail still wagged in response to seeing Garza. Garza had often wondered if dogs could be infected with LNV. While the scientific team wasn’t sure, they’d told him that it was a distinct possibility based on what they knew about the virus. Covered in blood with a gore-matted coat, the dog limped forward looking very much like the canine version of a rev. Garza studied him for a moment. As if sensing his concern, Charon sat back on his haunches and gave him another small bark that left Garza with the feeling that the animal he was looking at was still Charon. He keyed the radio and filled Jeremy in on the details of his plan.

  When he was finished, Jeremy replied, “Easy peasy, man. You guys be careful, okay?”

  Garza pulled a length of rope out of his pack and threw one end over the edge after securing the other end to a pipe on the building’s roof. Ten seconds later, he was on the ground with Charon by his side. The dog looked like hell, but his eyes still held the same intensity Garza had grown accustomed to seeing. He rubbed the back of the dog’s head and said, “Glad to see you made it out. You had me worried for a minute there. Now let’s go get Anthony.”

  Garza swore he saw something shift in the animal’s eyes at the sound of the boy’s name. His plan was a relatively simplistic one. First, Jeremy would pilot his drone through the open skylight and then down the aisle toward the front of the store. Garza hoped this would draw the majority of the revs away from Anthony’s position. Once Jeremy gave him the signal, he and Charon would enter the building from the side and fight their way to the overturned tub. Depending on the situation at that time, he and Anthony would either head out through the skylight or through the side door with Charon. Thinking about it now, it seemed like much less of a plan than it had when he was on the roof.

  When he and Charon were in position along the side of the building, he signaled to Jeremy. The drone’s rotors sprang to life, and he saw the little aircraft zip across the gap overhead.

  “I’m in. Whoa! There’s a hell of a lot of those bastards in here. Are you sure you want to do this?” Jeremy said over the radio.

  Garza would have liked nothing more than to get as far away as possible, but that wasn’t an option with Anthony trapped inside. He let out the breath he’d been holding and said, “Just let me know when you’ve drawn as many as you can away. We’ll take care of the rest.”

  A few minutes later, the radio squawked and Jeremy said, “Okay, I’ve drawn a lot of them to the front of the store. I can’t say how many are still in the back but I don’t think it’s going to get much better than it is right now.”

  Garza took a deep breath and looked down at Charon. “You ready for this?”

  The dog showed no hint of anxiety—a fact that made Garza momentarily jealous. Were it not for the closed door in his way, the dog would’ve likely already been inside. Not knowing that Anthony was still alive, coupled with the fact that he had no idea how many infected were still between him and the boy, had Garza feeling more than a little uneasy. He realized there was nothing for it, and he forced the sentiment out of his mind. As if all of that weren’t enough, the radio crackled to life once again.

  Since no one spoke initially, Garza thought the transmission was likely accidental. It sounded as though the radio was in Jeremy’s pocket. Through the static came an ominous moan that sent chills down his spine and made him glance over his shoulder to make sure he wasn’t about to be overrun. In the midst of these sounds, Garza heard a frantic and muffled voice.

  “Son of a…” Jeremy screamed.

  Garza wasn’t sure if he’d heard the voice echoing between the buildings or over the radio. He called the drone pilot several times but received no answer. As much as he hated it, he didn’t have time to worry about the man.

  As though he were talking to another soldier, Garza looked at Charon and said, “On me. Let’s move.”

  He held his rifle to his shoulder with one hand and carefully opened the door with the other. He shone his light around the receiving office and was relieved to find it free of any of the infected. Moving quickly and quietly, they passed through the office and the adjoining stockroom before entering the store proper. The floor was covered with a slippery film of gore and filth that left Garza feeling as though he might lose his footing at any moment. He prayed he wouldn’t be forced to move fast.

  Rounding the corner, he turned onto the aisle that held the tub and shower displays. The sound of the infected was a low snarl, like that of an angry mob with everyone trying to talk at the same time. Panic rose inside him when he didn’t see the overturned bathtub. He quickened his pace as he wondered how a bathtub could simply disappear. It wasn’t until two figures popped up from the opposite side of the bathtub that he realized it was there. Its formerly pristine white surface was now a dark, ruddy brown color that blended in perfectly with the disgusting floor.

  The two monsters scrambled over the tub at the sight of more readily available prey. Charon wasted no time in taking down the rev directly in front of him. Its face was so stained with blood that it was difficult to say if it had been male or female. The dog barreled through it, his full weight forcing the rev back and toppling it over the overturned tub. There was a sickening crack like that of a watermelon being dropped on the pavement from a second story window as its head smacked the concrete floor. Charon’s vicious snarls made it clear that he was holding nothing back.

  Garza eyed the second figure coming toward him. It wore a red vest that still bore the man’s name tag. It read: Bill—Employee of the Year. Always the overachiever, eh, Bill? He resisted the urge to empty his magazine into the rev that had been trying to devour his friend. Instead, he shifted his rifle around to his back and drew his combat knife. The thing named Bill moved into the shaft of light beneath the open skylight. Garza lunged forward and buried the seven-inch blade in the thing’s skull. Cold, gelatinous fluid spurted onto his face as the b
lade punctured the thing’s eye; it went instantly limp. His forward momentum combined with the rev’s loss of support sent the two trundling over the capsized bathtub. It screeched loudly as it skidded along the concrete. He cursed under his breath, hoping the noise wouldn’t attract any unwanted attention.

  Garza shoved Bill’s lifeless legs to the side and worked his fingers under the edge of the bathtub. With a heave, he lifted the tub and peered into the darkness. At first, he saw nothing and panic began to sweep over him like a tidal wave. Where the hell is Anthony? Before he had time to really consider the question, a blur of movement flashed before him and his world disintegrated into pain.

  The next thing Garza knew, the rough surface of a rancid tongue was scraping against his cheek. A smell like that of hot death flooded his nostrils, causing bile to rise in his gorge. He turned his head and gagged. The pain in his jaw was intense and only added to his nausea. His entire world was shrouded in darkness, making every horrible sensation all the more frightening. He could barely move, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to. Garza felt a faint stinging sensation on the other side of his face. As if from a mile away, a vaguely familiar voice cut through the fog of confusion.

  “Garza! Garza! It’s time to go,” the voice said frantically.