The Redivivus Trilogy (Book 3): Miasma

by Kirk Withrow

  When the necessary preparations were made, they filed out one by one. Soon, only Lydia and John remained.

  “Thank you for going after Ava,” John said, breaking the silence.

  “John, I—”

  He raised a dismissive hand and said, “You did everything you could. Thank you for trying, and thank you for helping me get her back again.”

  Lydia nodded as she lowered her chin. She didn’t realize that John was still staring at her until she looked up nearly a minute later.

  “There’s something else, Lydia. I know you’ve already done so much for Ava and me, but I need to ask one last favor of you. I’d like you to look after Ava should anything happen to me out there.”

  Lydia picked up on the nature of his plea and began shaking her head before he even finished speaking. Despite having no children of her own, she’d grown to love Ava like a daughter. As such, her refusal wasn’t directed at his request but rather at the idea that something might happen to him. She’d witnessed too much death and seen too many lives shattered by its icy touch. The prospect of any more was simply unacceptable, yet she knew it wasn’t within her power to make such a declaration.

  John remained steadfast, allowing her to work through her emotions. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she balled her fists as if she were going to punch him. Her face bore an odd mix of anger, love, and sadness that he understood all too well. After a tense moment, she stepped forward and pulled him into a tight embrace. He held her as the sobs racked her body. When her shoulders ceased hitching, Lydia sniffed and said, “If it came to that, I would care for her like she were my own child.”

  30

  Garza peered through a pair of binoculars, scanning the area around the CDC compound for any sign of movement. From the rooftop, he had nearly a mile of visibility where his view wasn’t obstructed by the occasional building poking out of the ground like a giant tombstone in a long-forgotten cemetery. The terrain was mostly wooded aside from several once rolling lawns that had been transformed into overgrown fields. Without man to get in the way, the local flora thrived. Streets that previously flowed through the trees like asphalt rivers were hardly recognizable anymore. Garza marveled at how little time it had taken Mother Nature to start erasing mankind’s footprint from the face of the Earth.

  Although he was glad he saw no trace of the Puppet Master or his men, there was no doubt in his mind that they were lurking out there somewhere. He was far more relieved when he couldn’t locate either of the two teams that had left the CDC compound approximately thirty minutes earlier. Ten minutes before the planned contact time, Garza switched on the walkie-talkie. He continued his search as he listened to the radio’s dead air.

  Crouched down beside him, Kate asked, “Do you see anything?”

  “Nothing. Well, nothing other than a few scattered revs wandering around. The teams are doing a good job with concealment.”

  The radio Kate held came to life, the unexpected noise making them both jump. “Dr. San, this is One. Do you copy?”

  She pushed the button and replied, “Roger, One. This is Dr. San.”

  “Any activity to report?”

  Kate glanced up at Garza, who simply shook his head. “Negative, One. All’s quiet.”

  After a pause, Mother’s voice came over the radio again. “Roger that. I’m reading your signal five by five. Will hold position and wait for movement. Over.”

  Kate knew Mother meant he was receiving a strong signal from the GPS tracker secured to Garza’s leg. Mother’s team was designated as One, while John’s team was Two. Since Garza carried the radio given to him by Connor, Kate kept the radio they would use to communicate with Mother. Their plan was to use the walkie-talkies to relay as much information as they could, though they had concerns about the possibility that Connor’s men might be watching them once they got underway. For that reason, the GPS tracker would provide the teams with real-time information without the need for Garza or Kate to actively transmit anything. It had been decided that Mother wouldn’t transmit unless absolutely necessary; they didn’t want to chance Connor hearing the transmission if the other radio was in use.

  When the TriSquare radio squawked about ten minutes later, neither Kate nor Garza jumped. The voice that came over the walkie-talkie was not particularly foreboding, and the man might’ve sounded pleasant if Garza hadn’t known who he was and why he was calling. It occurred to him that his preconceived notions of what evil looked and sounded like were likely little more than fallacies fed to him by Hollywood and the media. Given that the only time he’d seen Connor it’d been getting dark and they’d been trying to kill one another, he couldn’t say exactly what Connor looked like. Garza doubted it was much like the monster he’d cooked up inside his head. In the time since the pandemic wiped out civilization, he’d come to realize that evil could be virtually anything, and virtually anything could be evil.

  “Hello, Sergeant Garza,” Connor hissed. “I trust you have Dr. San and the cure with you?”

  Connor’s smug tone made Garza grit his teeth. “Yes,” he replied tersely.

  “Excellent—short and to the point. I like that about you, Hector,” Connor said mockingly. “Now listen to me carefully, because I’m not going to repeat myself. You can follow directions, can’t you?”

  Garza was already angry, which made the patronizing question all the more infuriating. He glared at the radio with a level of disdain generally reserved for mosquitoes and cholera epidemics. Even in his anger, it occurred to him that the walkie-talkie probably had an effective range of a few miles at best—likely far lower under actual conditions. That meant that Connor had to be relatively close by. The thought made Garza glance around as though he expected to see him waving from the next building over.

  When Garza didn’t respond, Connor let out a wicked chuckle and said, “I’ll assume that’s a yes. Let’s go ahead and get a few ground rules and unpleasantries out of the way before we get started, shall we? First, I want you and Dr. San—no one else—to come to the location I specify. While I cannot allow either of you to carry any firearms, I am a reasonable man, and I understand that these are dangerous times we are living in. Feel free to bring a knife or other melee weapon with you. I’d hate to see anything happen to either of you before I get my hands on you. If I so much as think someone is following you, I will make you pay dearly. Know that I have eyes everywhere. And don’t think you’ll be able to fight your way out this time. You don’t have the manpower to match me. Now, I know you’re a smart man, so I won’t bother asking if you understand what I’m saying. What do you say we go for a short walk? I want you and Dr. San to leave your little fort and head south until you come to the railroad tracks. As I’m sure you know, they are located approximately 200 yards from the CDC’s outer fence. Report back to me when you’re there.”

  After a brief pause, Connor added, “I’m going to give you ninety minutes to get all the way here. After that, I’m going to start taking the little girl’s fingers off. You’ve a way to go, so I suggest you get moving.”

  Garza let the radio fall to his side. He checked the time on his watch before turning to Kate and asking, “You ready for this?”

  Without batting an eye, she keyed the radio discretely as she answered his question. “Ready as I’m going to be. Let’s head to the tracks so we can find out where to go next.”

  It took Garza a moment before he realized she’d relayed Connor’s instructions to Mother. If one of Connor’s men were watching them, it wouldn’t have looked like anything more than casual conversation between Garza and Kate. Once again, he was impressed with her cunning.

  Garza craned his neck to see the area outside the gate. There were relatively few infected milling about, so Garza and Kate shouldered their packs and descended the ladder from the rooftop.

  “Let’s get going then,” he said.

  Anthony had been monitoring the channel Kate used to talk with Mother, so he started toward the barricade as well. Someone n
eeded to close the gate after Garza and Kate left; he volunteered. He arrived at the same time as Garza.

  “Hey, kid,” Garza said with a weak smile.

  Anthony knew Garza as a steadfast soldier, but he could tell that his friend and mentor was nervous. That made the fact that he wasn’t going out with the group weigh even heavier on his mind. He felt torn between his feelings for Annalee and his desire to fight alongside Garza. In the end, Lydia telling him that Annalee “could use a guy like him in her corner” had convinced him that he should stay behind. The worry he saw in Garza’s eyes had him second-guessing his decision. Despite the fact that he’d been forced to grow up considerably in the time since the outbreak, Anthony was still a child at heart. Filled with emotion, he ran over and wrapped Garza in a strong embrace.

  “Be careful out there,” he said.

  “I will, Anthony. Don’t worry. You just take care of everyone here, okay?”

  The boy nodded wordlessly. He watched Garza and Kate disappear outside the barricade before closing the gate. As he was walking back to Building 18, it occurred to him that might be the last time he ever saw Sergeant Garza. In his heart, however, he did not think that would be the case.

  * * *

  The infected outside the barricade were spread out, allowing Garza and Kate to cover the short distance to the perimeter fence without much trouble. In the absence of large numbers or confined spaces, the danger posed by the revs diminished significantly. Being on foot left Garza and Kate more vulnerable to attack, but it also afforded them the ability to move more quietly, thus attracting less attention from the revs than if they were in a vehicle. Those that did take notice of them were dispatched with ease. Not having a firearm wasn’t an issue in these encounters, as Garza generally preferred using a melee weapon when faced with one or two revs. He tried to limit his gun to situations where the sheer number or proximity of the revs was such that a melee weapon couldn’t keep up.

  Even when suppressed, the sound of gunfire had the potential to attract more revs. The exact opposite typically occurred with the uninfected, as few sane people went running toward the sound of gunfire. He didn’t know what Connor and his men would do when the bullets started flying, but the old adage about not bringing a knife to a gunfight left him longing for his rifle and sidearm.

  Garza’s go-to melee weapon, particularly if it was to be his only means of self-defense, was a burly fixed blade knife that resembled a small version of a Chinese war sword. At nearly two feet long with a fourteen-inch heavy steel blade, it could be best described as a war cleaver—large enough to deal some serious damage, yet small enough to wield one-handed for an extended period of time without tiring him too quickly. An instrument born of the forge for the sole purpose of delivering death and destruction, it was perfectly designed to amputate and decapitate. It was three pounds of badass with a finely honed edge.

  Garza had found the war cleaver on a scavenging run a few months earlier. When he first hefted the thick blade, he’d felt a connection, as though it had been made specifically for him. Moments later, he was given the opportunity to test its capabilities when a rev burst into the room. He brought the blade to bear and delivered a hard forehand blow that nearly hewed the thing’s arm off. Muscle and sinew was riven in two, and the bone splintered under the force of the wide blade. The arm hung uselessly at its side, dangling from a thin strip of flesh. When he brought the blade down the second time, it connected with the thing’s temple. There was a satisfying thwack as the quarter-inch-thick steel pierced the thin bone and plunged deep into its diseased gray matter. The monster went rigid as though startled by the blow before crumpling to the ground. Garza’s love affair with the weapon only grew from that point on. It had pained him not to take it on the recon mission, but he’d needed to travel light in order to maximize speed and mobility.

  Once at the fence, Garza used his cleaver to prize the gate open enough for them to slip through. A break in the trees about twenty yards ahead signaled the location of the tracks. They paused to listen for any hint of danger lurking outside the perimeter fence. Aside from the gentle breeze rustling through the leaves, they heard nothing. What would’ve been regarded as a pleasant sound before the pandemic now served as a mocking reminder of the natural world’s indifference to the plight of humanity. When Garza thought about this, it occurred to him that Mother Nature might actually prefer the revs to their uninfected counterparts, considering the unabashed disregard mankind showed for the rest of the world’s well being.

  Seeing nothing moving through the trees ahead, Garza said, “Looks like the coast is clear. Stay behind me.” Even though he knew that Kate was more than capable of taking care of herself, he felt an obligation to protect her. Sure, she had voluntarily placed herself in harm’s way, but in doing so, she had allowed Lin to stay safe, and for that he was forever indebted to her.

  Garza and Kate moved wraithlike through the wooded area. When they reached the tree line bordering the railroad tracks, they crouched among the undergrowth. To the right, Garza saw several overturned train cars that had been slowly rusting away since the early days of the pandemic. The tracks were clear in the opposite direction, and seemed to stretch into infinity. He sighed as he looked at the radio. He wanted to smash it. He wanted to scream. He wanted to kill the Puppet Master. Unfortunately, he could do none of those things right then. Instead, he brought the radio to his mouth and said, “We’re at the tracks. Now what?” The entire situation was really starting to grate on his nerves.

  The radio chirped a few seconds later. “You sound a little tense, Sergeant. Is everything going okay?”

  When Garza didn’t answer, Connor continued, “Follow the tracks to the east. That’s to your left in case you were unsure. Several overpasses span the tracks along the way. In approximately three-quarters of a mile, you will come to the third one. Let me know when you’re there.”

  “Thanks, asshole. Can we stop with the games? Why don’t you just tell me where you are and we can settle this like men—face to face?”

  Connor let out a wicked chuckle that made him sound as giddy as a vampire in a blood bank. “Now, now, Garza. You know I make the rules. So be a good boy and call me when you’re there.”

  Kate sensed that Garza’s anger was about to reach its boiling point, so she placed a calming hand on his shoulder. “Take it easy, Garza. Getting under your skin is his game. Try not to let him goad you into playing along. He gets far too much enjoyment out of that; I can hear it in his voice. Don’t worry—his time will come. It always does for guys like him.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. Having to listen to his bullshit just pisses me off, you know?”

  Kate did know. Ever since the bikers had held her captive in the house in Hermitage Estates, she’d had very little patience for men that took the pandemic as a license to do whatever they pleased. It was part of the reason she’d volunteered to join Garza in the first place.

  Once again, she pushed the transmit button on the radio hidden beneath her shirt, and then she said, “Well, let’s follow the tracks east and see if there really is an overpass in three-quarters of a mile.”

  Lost in their own thoughts, they didn’t talk as they walked along the tracks. The only sound was that of the gravel crunching beneath their boots. There were still several hours of daylight left, and the sun’s rays shone warmly upon them. After a quarter mile, the tracks diverged into two parallel lines. They each walked down the center of one set of the tracks. Garza kept a watchful eye on the surrounding woods, looking for any sign of revs, Connor’s men, or their own teams. He saw nothing. Just as Connor had said they would, they came to the third overpass less than a mile down the tracks.

  A slight embankment on each side of the tracks led up to the road crossing at an angle overhead. The words Repent Now! Jesus Is Coming Soon! were spray-painted on one of the concrete girders under the overpass. Garza wondered if the person responsible had sensed the coming pandemic or if it was just the typical apocalyp
tic rhetoric often spouted by street preachers and crazy homeless guys. Whatever the case, he instinctively touched the small cross he wore around his neck as he read the graffiti. Aside from the vegetation steadily consuming everything in its path, Garza saw no signs of life in the otherwise dreary landscape.

  Kate watched as Garza scanned the area. When he glanced at her, she offered him a reassuring look. He took out the radio and called Connor to inform him that they’d arrived.

  “Good. You seem to have calmed down since the last time I spoke with you. I was beginning to think you might be having second thoughts about our little arrangement. I’m sure sweet Ava here will be glad to know you’ve come to your senses.”

  Connor let his words hang in the air, as though hoping they might incite some sort of reaction out of Garza. When he did not take the bait, Connor gave him the next part of his instructions.

  “Head north from your current location. This will take you into a woodland preserve. Continue on that heading until you come to a small lake on your right side. About 300 yards farther will bring you to a large mansion. There’s no need to contact me, I’ll know when you’re there.”

  Garza didn’t bother confirming that he’d received the directions. Instead, he turned and began walking toward the embankment. Kate followed him, relaying the instructions to Mother as she’d done previously. Having seen no trace of either of the teams, Garza and Kate could only assume that they were out there and ready to move forward with their part of the plan. When Kate and he crested the rise, they found themselves in a wooded area where the trees were much denser. This limited their visibility and forced them to move at a slower pace. The thick undergrowth grabbed at their ankles with each step.

  With the noise of the wind blowing through the canopy, Garza wasn’t sure he would be able to hear any infected that might be wandering through the forest. It seemed as if there was movement around every tree, and soon his mind tried to turn nearly everything he saw into a monster that was out to get him. The inability to easily detect any nearby revs combined with suboptimal maneuverability made him increasingly nervous.