by LC Champlin
After opening the gates, he urged the livestock out into the yard. They snorted and grumbled.
“Go!” Dodging around behind them, he clapped his hands. “Go, go, go!”
As a mass, the twenty or so swine surged toward the lights in the fire station parking lot.
The villagers turned, then gaped.
Chapter 23
Among the Pigs
The Wolf – Foxworth Hall
The thugs who held Rodriguez pulled her farther into the garage, under the two bodies and between the blood puddles. Several yards from them, two cannibals—males—wearing nothing but collars, pulled against the chains that restrained them. Time for step two, which unfortunately involved stepping into the spotlight.
Raising his hands in the universal sign of surrender, Nathan strode across the street. “Are you my ride?” he called to the combat operatives. Likely paramilitary, since they bore no insignia.
The point man moved forward with his carbine half raised. “Nathan Serebus?”
“The same.”
The chief gaped at him. “How the hell did you get out?”
“Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies.” Nathan smirked as he sauntered to the center of the lot’s light. “There’s not much time left; the authorities will be here soon. Say, are you going to kill the DHS woman?”
“I’m gonna string her up with the other two. I think three’s a nice number. She’ll get rid of that gap between them there.” At the word gap, the chief pointed to the bodiless area between the corpses.
Nathan ambled toward the garage—and Rodriguez. “I suppose another corpse would make it more aesthetically pleasing. Tell me”—he looked over his shoulder at them—“do you work for LOGOS? Lexa Birk? Perhaps even Kenichi Oshiro? Do you even know who employs you?”
The three armed newcomers glanced at one another. Whether it came from recognition or confusion remained a mystery, as their combat eye protection and balaclavas obscured their expressions.
“I’m on familiar terms with all three,” Nathan added. Just a little farther toward Rodriguez . . .
By now, the people had begun rounding up the hogs.
“Well then,” Nathan continued, “if you’re going to string her up, let me be the one to do it. I was her prisoner, so it’s only right. Except I want to hang her feet-down, so the entertainment lasts longer.”
She regarded him with disgust.
“Yeah . . .” The chief nodded, slow. “That might be fun.” He motioned to the thugs as he ordered, “Throw the rope up there.”
After a few attempts, they swung it over the rafter between the corpses. One of the bastards held the rope, while his cohort tied the other end to Rodriguez’s handcuff chain. They would wrench her shoulders if they pulled it up.
The chief turned toward the confusion of villagers and hogs. “Everybody, get them pigs rounded up. We’re gonna watch the prisoner string this government bitch up. Then we’ll really have some fun!”
“No.” From the head stormtrooper. “Secure him; he’s ours.” The prospective captor marched toward Nathan.
Nathan lunged for Rodriguez’s end of the rope. His full bodyweight jerked it from the thug’s hands, sending it hissing back over the rafter.
As it landed at their feet, Nathan closed the gap, slamming an elbow into the enemy’s nose. Head snapping back, the bastard staggered. Nathan stuck his foot out behind the prey. Catching the bastard’s arm and stepping forward bent the thug backward. Thud-crack. Skull bounced off concrete.
Rodriguez needed no encouragement to take on her captor. She rammed in with her shoulder, hitting the man’s solar plexus and doubling him over. A mule kick followed, snapping his knee backward. As he fell onto all fours, she brought her knee up into his throat.
When Rodriguez straightened, Nathan caught her around the waist and half dragged, half carried her behind the wall. Not a moment too soon. Gunfire rattled. It struck the lead paramilitary operative, hammering into the gap between helmet and vest. The bullet tore off his jaw. The other two jackboots sprinted for cover. One went down as the bullet slammed into his thigh.
The chopper rotors’ RPM increased. The lone survivor threw himself into the aircraft—even as a string of gunfire popped. He stumbled, blood spraying from his calf. But the small-arms fire failed to strike any vital points on the Eurocopter. It cleared the roof of the garage, thudding into the night.
The chief made a dash for his truck. He reached for the door, but fell against it before he could open it. Polkadots appeared across his back as bullets struck his bloated carcass.
Yelling and confusion erupted. Locals recovered their wits enough to remember how to operate their weapons. Hopefully Sophia had evacuated.
Nathan scrambled for the downed thug’s hunting rifle, which leaned against the wall. Locked and loaded? Bingo!
Chapter 24
Rescuers
Fallen – Imagine Dragons
“Ew.” Denver wrinkled her nose as she leaned away from the corpses. She had witnessed other such executions and, typical of a child, had grown inured to the violence.
Albin turned to Berhmann. “Ms. Josephine, do you have any idea how this outbreak may have started? You are normally the most informed person regarding community developments.”
She brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. “Nobody new has come in that I know of. People have been a little sick lately, but I was assuming that that was just left over from the lay-down’s effect, or from being in close quarters.”
“You mean when the military dusted everybody with the stuff that was supposed to stop the cannibals?” Denver asked before Albin could pose a similar question.
“But that was almost two weeks ago,” Taylor put in.
Albin’s jaw muscles pulsed as he regarded the corpses. “Could it have evolved?”
Amanda shook her head. “I don’t know, but I suppose anything’s possible, especially after the lay-down. It was supposed to make the cannibals more susceptible to being rewired with a radio frequency broadcast, but it didn’t work. It just made them worse. They wouldn’t respond to the repellent frequency anymore.” The citizens’ flight from their community occurred in the wake of this mutation, but she did not dredge up the memory.
“Do we have to stay here with those things?” Denver gestured toward the bodies.
She made a sensible point. If the contagion had evolved, perhaps it spread via air in addition to contact with fluids.
“But it’s just as dangerous outside,” Behrmann observed. “We could be jumped by them.”
If Albin ventured out to locate assistance, he would leave his comrades. In his absence, they might encounter more cannibals. Only one firearm existed among the five of them.
He slung the M4 over his shoulder. “There is no optimal solution.” The idea of escorting four people and himself down narrow ship halls with the possibility of cannibals leaping out from any direction failed to appeal.
The hatch opened. Rather than cannibals pouring in, a team of four security personnel in gas masks and HAZMAT suits entered. At the sight of their M4s, he dropped his own, hands climbing by reflex. “We are not infected.”
“Civilians,” the leader reported to his comrades. He signaled to Albin and the others. “All of you, come with us. Is it only you five?”
“Yes, sir.”
The squad escorted them out, hustling their charges down corridors and up stairs. When they reached a deck near the middle of the ship, or so Albin judged by the amount of flights upward and passages forward, they halted before a hatch.
“You’re going to be in quarantine for a while,” the squad leader announced, regarding them from behind the gas mask’s lenses. “The medical team has to check you out. We just have to make sure no one else is infected. You’ll be locked in, but if you need help, use the intercom.”
Quarantined again. Brilliant. Albin gave a nod. What choice did he have?
++++
++++++++
One last task before Nathan could ditch Dodge. The chains that secured the cannibals ran through a loop on the far wall, tying off at carabiners on a support pole to the right. This permitted the locals to release or adjust the chains without turning into lunch.
Black oil streaming down their chins and bare chests, the monsters strained toward the crowd outside.
“Shall I, Rodriguez?” he asked, pointing to the carabiners.
“What the fuck are you waiting for!”
The fugitives charged deeper into the cover of the garage, behind a tanker truck. Nathan ran bent double to the carabiners. Click, click. Chains rattled through the loops as the cannibals hit the ground loping. The crowd awaited.
The townspeople had regrouped. Yelling, rifles and flashlights raised, they spread out. They attempted to stay behind cover, using buildings and vehicles as best they could.
A moment later, yells turned to cries as the naked cannibals found prey.
Nathan took the lead, opening the garage’s rear door for Rodriguez. They ducked out—and halted before the mobile command unit: thirty feet of deployment and support superiority more impressive than any luxury RV.
Let the door be open—Yes! Now let the vehicle be empty. No such luck. In the communications pod near the front of the bus, the sergeant spun about to gape at them. His pistol rose to gape at them as well.
“Down!” Rodriguez dove into a booth across the center aisle as Nathan threw himself into an alcove to the left.
He ducked across the aisle, scrambled over a built-in desk, then launched in low toward the dirty cop.
Bang! Bang!
The rounds shattered a computer screen on Nathan’s right.
He caught the weapon’s frame with his left hand. Slap it into his right palm—kick out the fucker’s knee while wrenching the pistol forward.
Caught in the trigger guard, the man’s finger bent backward. Crunch!
Nathan snapped his head forward in a headbutt, catching the man in the triangle between eyes and nose. Grunting, the bastard staggered back, or would have if Nathan hadn’t rammed a knee into his gut. An elbow to the cervical spine dropped him.
Keys, keys—he patted the sergeant down. There! Pulling them free, Nathan bolted for the driver seat. The engine rumbled to life. Now for Sophia. He swung the RV-sized vehicle around, aiming it for the road, the general vicinity of where he left Sophia. He laid on the horn as he went. “Rodriguez!” he called over his shoulder. “Get ready to pick up Sophia.”
“Is that who was shooting?”
“Who else would it be?”
There, movement beside an outbuilding, north of the station. Rodriguez threw the side door open. “Sophia! Get in!”
She sprinted for the RV as Nathan slowed the behemoth. Behind, the townsfolk continued yelling. Their flashlights locked on the vehicle. Gunfire rattled. He couldn’t turn the bus to block.
She lunged in as bullets peppered the rear of the vehicle.
Chapter 25
Reprieves
Home – Phillip Phillips
The mobile command unit’s door slammed shut. “In,” Sophia panted.
“Sophia,” Nathan called back, “please toss the trash out before it begins to smell. Then I need you to be my navigator. How do I get to the National Guard base in Santa Fe?”
“If you keep on this road, you’ll pass one,” she grunted as she manhandled the sergeant’s body to the door.
“No.” Rodriguez made her unsteady way to the front of the vehicle, hands still cuffed behind her back. Perhaps the position would improve her empathy for prisoners. “Not that one.”
Sophia pushed past her. “The one by the state Pen?”
The infamous New Mexico Penitentiary? Nathan’s mouth went dry. They couldn’t sentence him to that facility, though, since his crimes had nothing to do with New Mexico. Not that any Federal detention facility offered a more desirable option . . .
“That’s easy. You take a left at the intersection and go north toward Santa Fe.”
Nathan cleared his throat. “Sophia, are you joining us, or do you want me to drop you elsewhere?”
“I’ll get a lift back on my own.”
“I’m not riding the rest of the way cuffed,” Rodriguez declared.
Nathan smirked. “I don’t have the keys. I’m driving, anyway.”
“It’s not too far,” Sophia responded. She seemed in no hurry to uncuff Rodriguez. Evidently she understood his need to prove himself.
Behind, headlights glowed. Perhaps taking the command unit wasn’t the best idea. It couldn’t achieve more than eighty miles an hour. But since the Dodge Charger’s keys had failed to materialize in his pocket, he’d made do. At least he had a head start, and the vehicle had momentum. Hopefully he could put enough miles between him and the town that the people would lose interest.
He leaned on the accelerator, pushing the needle past seventy miles an hour.
“Are you really going to the Army base?” Sophia asked as she propped her feet on the dash. “She’s handcuffed.” This came in a low voice. “You could run. Get out at the next settlement.”
He shook his head. “I must see this through. It’s the only way. If I can pay for what I’ve done, I may be able to see my family again. And if not, then at least they’ll know I tried to do the right thing for once in my life, even though I fucked up royally.”
“You married?”
“I have a wife, and a son who’s almost four. They’re in New York.”
“Why did you do it?” Sophia didn’t meet his eye, instead gazing out the window.
“Because he’s a greedy bastard,” Rodriguez supplied, bracing herself in the entrance to the cab.
“I thought I was doing the right thing. I was trying to protect my friends and my people.” Ahead, the highbeams cut a path through the night.
Rodriguez snorted. “Road to hell, Serebus, and you’re on it, good intentions or not.”
Perhaps he should have left her. His previous Good Samaritan acts hadn’t paid off quite as well as desired. Hopefully this one would gain him points with the court—and show Rodriguez his true character. If nothing else, it would assuage his guilt for the moment. Not as well as the drugs, but almost.
“Sophia.” Glance in her direction—“Thank you for your help.” The deaths of the stormtroopers should count as some justice for her loss.
She shrugged it off.
Miles passed. At an intersection, Sophia motioned for him to turn, but the Santa Fe sign did her work for her.
The group remained silent. They had nothing to say, and no energy to say it. At last the sign for the National Guard Armory appeared, glowing in the headlights.
Nathan slowed as he pulled up to the guard house. His pulse hammered in his ears as he rolled down the window and leaned out to greet the astonished MP. “I have a DHS officer here who’d like to speak with you. Our convoy was attacked near San Luis. Also, we have a prisoner.” He surveyed his traveling companions and took a deep breath, steeling himself. “It’s me.”
++++++++++++
June 2, 2016—
Albin and his companions filed through the hatchway into a spacious storage hold. Inside, strangers from Foster City and surrounding areas, as well as Redwood Shores residents, milled in groups.
Cots ran in rows down the length of the chamber, with pallets of bottled water and MREs occupying the center. The five newcomers made their way to a cluster of unoccupied bunks.
As Albin dropped onto the closest cot, pain made itself known in the face of fading adrenaline. He propped his elbows on his knees.
Cannibals loose aboard the ship, and he could do nothing to protect his people. The military would supposedly perform that duty. The Sailors had worked with speed and efficiency, but their efforts came too late to save a number of the people. Now they kept the civilians as prisoners. Understandable for safety considerations, given the situation. That did n
ot lessen his restlessness, however. I need to get off this ship.
Exhaustion tugged at his mind, allowing the wolf howls in his ears to begin. Though faint, they would rise. His muscles ached. The undertaking had required more energy than he had anticipated. Ten days of semi-bedrest and decreased activity had deconditioned him.
A blanket fell over his shoulders. He looked up. Amanda smiled down, concern in her eyes. “You were shivering.”
“Was I?” A headache throbbed behind his eyes, but the howls faded. “Thank you.”
“Albin,” she sighed as she sat beside him. Her shoulder touched his; he did not shift away. “I don’t know what this will lead to, but I know you and your colleagues will get home. I don’t know if she’s said anything to you, but Josephine is planning to go with you.”
“Delightful.” And unsurprising.
Across the room, the reporter moved from bunk to bunk, speaking with people.
“I know you think she just wants a story,” Amanda continued, “but she really cares about these people. And I think she cares about what happens to Nathan as well.” Her tone held only encouragement.
“Perhaps she can be of some use, then.” The floor absorbed Albin’s gaze. “I am uncertain what I will do when I leave the ship. I need to find Mr. Serebus, but when I do, I . . .”
“I thought you planned to use your legal skills to help him?”
“I specialize in business law, not criminal.” The wolves began to howl again, not accepting his prediction.
“But you’ll at least get to see him again. That was one of your goals.”
