Miller would end this war, maybe right here and now. Today. What happened after that, once they’d dispatched those in charge—the Triad, as McDivitt’s people called them—they’d all just have to just deal with when the time came. She and Scratch and Sheppard would find a way to survive, just like they always did.
Just burn one bridge at a time.
The light shifted again and the truck slowed to a halt. Miller heard Judy talking to someone. Not a guard, the conversation seemed too casual for that. Someone whistled very loudly, and the truck moved once more. Judy drove another thirty seconds or so. Then she changed direction and backed it up some kind of ramp. She stopped the van and killed the engine.
“Okay, we’re here,” Judy called in a normal tone of voice. “You can come out now.” She sounded even more relaxed than before.
“What the hell was the point of the boxes if they were just going to let us straight through,” asked Scratch. He groaned, as if stretching, and noises surrounded Miller. The top of Miller’s box opened abruptly, and bright light poured in on her dilated eyes. She winced and blinked. Scratch chuckled. “Well, hey there, darlin’.”
Miller stood up carefully and studied Scratch. She flashed suddenly to the first time he’d called her that, back on that first terrible night of the apocalypse. If she recalled correctly, he was pawing his crotch and generally making a nuisance of himself back then, acting like a sexist pig, trying to be all badassed. He’d been her prisoner that night, when the first wave of the infected attacked her jail. He’d ended up shooting her in a stand-off, just a half-second after she saved his sorry ass from a zombie. They had been through so much, experienced so much death and destruction, after such an inauspicious beginning. But Scratch had been by her side all the way. Now he smiled at her brightly, not as a gentleman, but as a caring lover.
“Merry Christmas, Scratch.” Miller held out her hand. He helped her up and out of the box. Her battle rattle was mostly taped down, but some of it clanked or squeaked. Miller tried her legs and stretched again. Scratch cracked his back. They were both ready to rock and roll.
“Don’t remind me of Christmas,” Scratch replied with a fond smile. “Christmas makes me think of ol’ Terrill Lee in a stupid Santa hat out in the middle of that damned burning lodge. Man, he could be strange.”
“And don’t forget those zombie elves,” Miller replied, “locked down in that parking garage. I could have done without them, too.”
“Yeah, no shit. We don’t have much luck around holidays.”
The rear doors of the van opened, but very little light entered the vehicle. It appeared that Judy had backed the van out of sight and deep into a warehouse. Now Judy stood there on a loading dock with her hands parked casually on her hips. She was carrying her machine gun. She was clearly at home and in her element.
They had made it. They were inside.
“I thought we were going closer to the flight line,” Miller said.
McDivitt emerged from his own hiding place. He picked up his weapon—an M-4—and held it close to his chest. “We’ll be able to see the flight line clearly from inside.” He stepped off the van’s bumper and onto the loading dock. “Come on Sheriff… Scratch. Let’s go people, we haven’t much time.”
A hand touched Miller’s shoulder, but she didn’t jump. She turned her head and saw that Rolf was standing close to her. He had an odd way of appearing from the shadows. Miller had come to expect that.
“Chosen One,” Rolf said quietly, “I believe your next test is fast approaching.”
“I’m getting a little tired of your tests, Rolf.” Miller spoke without animosity, but she meant every word.
Rolf smiled broadly. “They are not my tests, Sheriff Miller. They’re God’s.”
Miller winced as the others appeared around her. Rolf just used her real name for the second time. Again she wondered if that meant he was getting better. Perhaps was just as crazy as before and merely switching tactics. As long as he helped the group rather than hindered it, Miller figured she wouldn’t worry too much. Rolf carried himself well in a fight. She’d seen that firsthand.
“God, huh? Okay, noted.”
Miller turned and saw that Scratch, Bean, Scobee, Piper, McDivitt, and their driver Judy now awaited her on the loading dock. They looked like the Dirty Half-Dozen. They’d left Sheppard back at the compound to heal. As far as Miller was concerned, she’d rather have him with her, but this wasn’t the right mission for that. Soon.
Bean slipped behind the others to stand with Judy. She patted him on the shoulder but did not take his hand.
Miller stepped off the van, followed by Rolf. “Where to?”
McDivitt turned and led them deeper into the deserted warehouse. “We have been aware of this entrance for several months now. It’s very rarely guarded. In fact, this part of the facility has been largely abandoned for months. It’s still occasionally used for offices, but even those are mostly up at the front of the building. We’re going the other way. From there, we’ll be able to see the flight line. But most importantly, we will have access to the Triad’s escape tunnel from here.”
“Nice. Let’s go.” Miller took her place next to McDivitt, on point. She ignored his sideways glance. She wasn’t about to follow this guy again. Not a chance. Miller was determined to get the job done right. She heard a crunch and glanced down. The floor was littered with broken glass from beer bottles, torn packing materials, squashed cigarette butts, and a ton of bird shit. Miller figured this was where the airmen partied when off duty. Either that, or some big-assed pigeons had taken up smoking in here.
Miller looked up and scanned the ceiling of the empty building. Birds’ nests and broken windows. Some of the overhead lights still worked, but a few were blackened and dead inside.
They headed into the building, staying low and spaced well apart without having to be told. Miller peeked behind her. Judy and Bean walked as a team. Piper marched on alone with her buff shoulders squared, looking for all the world like a mixed martial arts star. Skinny old Scobee walked behind McDivitt on the left flank. Scratch and Rolf followed Miller. She wouldn’t have had it any other way.
Some pigeons cooed and rattled in the rafters above and a few feathers floated by, one tiny one tickling Miller’s dry nose. She could smell cat piss and a few dead animals here and there. Nothing out of the ordinary and certainly no sign of zombie decomp.
They pressed on and made good time in relative silence, pausing once in a while to listen for voices or movement. As promised, the area was long abandoned. When they hit an open corridor, the group began to leap frog from corner to corner. Miller was proud to note that her people set the pace and kept their form. A light breeze came in through a shattered skylight and moved dust around.
It was actually Judy who wound up leading them to their destination. She brought them into an empty room, one the size of a fairly large concert hall, with big windows directly facing the flight line. It too had been empty for ages. For half a second, Miller wondered what this gigantic room had once been used for, perhaps military briefings. That didn’t matter now. The room was empty and the windows were nicely tinted. No one was likely to find them there, lurking about all armed and dangerous on a secure military base. They were in and now they were close to their target. McDivitt and his people had delivered on their promise.
Staying low, Miller, Scratch and McDivitt edged closer to the windows and peeked up over the splintering old wooden frames. The glass was tinted, yet Miller felt weirdly exposed whenever she stuck her head up. She kept imagining a sniper taking one of them out. She focused on the air strip.
“Shit on a shingle,” Scratch whispered. “We’re in the neighborhood, all right.”
Four C-17 Globemasters were right outside, maybe fifty yards away. Each plane had a single armed guard standing nearby and was surrounded by a thick red rope line lying flat on the tarmac, its message quite clear: Stay the hell out. The guards stirred now and then to pace back and forth or
stretch and yawn. Otherwise, there was no activity in the area.
“Tell us what are we seeing, Major.”
McDivitt looked at Miller with a surprisingly worried expression. “Not a whole lot, in fact. That’s what’s bothering me.” He turned to face Piper, his voice hoarse and low. “Are those are the aircraft you reported?”
“Yes, sir.” Piper whispered. She pointed. “See, those are even the same tail numbers, 06 through 09.”
Miller kept her eyes on the sleeping airplanes. “Major, you worked here for a time. Is that usual, for them to load the cargo aboard the craft and then just leave them sitting on the tarmac?”
“No,” said McDivitt. “Something strange is going on.” He turned to fix his gaze on Bean. “Okay, Bean, it’s time to get our asses in gear. Have you got everything we need?”
“Yes, sir.” Bean held up a large satchel. It rattled slightly. Bean was carrying C4 and detonators and various other explosive devices. Miller had watched him load up.
“Then let’s go.” McDivitt spun around, crouching low from long habit, and headed for a door set in the wall next to the windows facing the flight line. Miller and the others followed. Despite their having come this far unobserved, there was no guarantee they’d remain that way. They could be discovered at any time and come under fire. Miller knew that, and they all felt it.
Covered by the others, Bean and McDivitt opened the door. Outside sat a large white vehicle that looked like something out of a dated, cornball science fiction television show. Without pausing, Judy walked ahead and climbed into the front. McDivitt climbed into the back. He motioned for the others to hurry up and get on board.
As Miller took her seat and buckled in, Scratch asked, “I don’t want to be a killjoy here, but just how do we plan to get past the guards again?”
The vehicle moved forward, causing Miller to be pushed into Rolf, who’d sat on her right. She was similarly squashed by Scratch on her left. The strange craft rocked back and forth like an old-time train.
“We’re going to kill them, Mr. Bowen.”
“Call me Scratch, or I’ll find out your middle name and drive you bat shit.”
“Okay. Scratch, then.” McDivitt caught and held Miller’s eyes. “You don’t have a problem with doing that, do you? Killing Americans in uniform?”
Miller looked at Scratch. She did, in fact, have a problem with the plan, but also couldn’t see a safer way around the problem. This was war, and those poor bastards had chosen the wrong side. But they were live human beings, and something about cold-bloodedly murdering them just didn’t sit right. For the tenth time Miller ran every possible scenario through her mind, but any other move would leave someone at their rear to be discovered by other guards, someone who could manage to alert the authorities and set up the ambush that could block their retreat and end the whole damn mission. Unfortunately, Major McDivitt was right.
After a long moment, Miller said, “No, Major. We don’t have a problem with that.” Nevertheless, something inside her died just a little. They all had precious little humanity left. It hurt to let any more of it go, no matter the circumstances, or how valid the excuse. Miller studied the shadow of the craft as it fluttered on the tarmac.
As they moved forward, Bean and Scobee each took up a position on either side of the vehicle. They pointed their rifles out of small gun portals set in the thick steel walls.
McDivitt said, “On my word, gentlemen.” The vehicle began to slow, and then came to a complete stop. “Now.”
Miller plugged her ears out of reflex. She needn’t have bothered. The two silenced shots popped quietly on each side of the vehicle. They sounded like two pairs of hands clapping just a bit out of synch.
“Both subjects down, sir,” said Bean.
“Same here,” said Scobee.
“Okay, everyone out. Nice and slow, just act like everything is normal.”
Miller was the first one out. She looked to her left involuntarily and spotted two men lying flat on the ground. A small pool of blood spread out beneath each of their heads. On the right, the picture was the same. She stepped around the vehicle, and spotted the four enormous cargo planes. They were all buttoned up and dark and cold as the shadows creeping up their sides. As if waiting for something, or perhaps someone, to set their twisted contents free.
The others were standing behind Miller. She walked over to where McDivitt stood, her boots scraping the tarmac. “Okay, how do we get in?”
“We don’t. We’re just going to set charges in the wheel wells and get the hell out of here. We detonate them remotely.”
“What if these are those wrong damn planes?”
They had covered this before, but Miller didn’t like his answer. She shaded her eyes against the sun almost directly overhead.
“We have no better option, Sheriff. If these planes are empty, at least we will have tried. If we’re too late, and the zombies are already gone, does being wrong make such a big damn difference?” He looked around, back towards the main part of the base. It was quiet. “I don’t think anyone has seen us yet. Let’s all finish the work and try to get home safely.”
But Miller still wasn’t satisfied. She followed him along the tarmac, whispering. “Yes, it does make a difference. Like I said before, if these aren’t the right planes and the zombies have already left, then it will make a huge damn difference to millions of people, innocent civilians who still believe the world to be the same as it was a few months ago.”
“What do you want from me, Sheriff? This is exactly what you asked for. As soon as we’re done here, we head for the Triad’s escape tunnel and blow up the planes. When these planes go away, everyone on base is going to be looking for us. If everything comes together, we take out the Triad, and then fight our way off base. Some of us go home tonight. Some don’t. That’s what you’re paying for. Wasn’t that clear during our briefing?”
They reached the first aircraft. Bean took a rather large explosive device out of his satchel, and handed it to Piper. She took it carefully and ducked under the wheel well and placed it inside. The two worked like professionals with experience. Miller admired their speed and coordination.
McDivitt said, “Sheriff, we’re actually just following your lead. You wanted the zombies stopped before they could fly out. Loria reports that these are the same planes she saw being loaded. This is the best, safest…”
Miller put up her hand. She was watching Scratch. He was looking off into the sky. He did not look happy. In fact, he looked pretty damned scared.
“I think we’re fucked, Penny.” Scratch pointed toward a lazy, puffy cloud shaped a little like a humpbacked whale. “Major, get a look at that. You might need to go change your shorts.”
McDivitt shifting his rifle to his right shoulder. He squinted into the bright sky, shading his eyes with one hand. “That’s a drone, Scratch. It’s probably just coming for a landing.”
“Nah, they’re watching us,” Scratch said. He was nervous. “Smile, you’re on TV.”
McDivitt snorted. “A little paranoia goes a long way in combat, Scratch, but I think you’re probably overreacting. They don’t even know we’re here yet. Come on, men, let’s get cracking.”
Something in the distance caught Miller’s attention. Something set very low to the ground was emerging from the quiet base. It came from dead ahead and rapidly came into focus. She saw blue and red lights, flashing and turning and racing ever closer.
“Major, tell your people to step on it, because Scratch is right. We’re fucked.” Miller nodded to Scratch, and they both jogged back to the transport truck. Rolf stayed close behind. Unnerved at last, McDivitt whistled sharply, and Piper, Scobee, Bean, and Judy came running as well.
McDivitt shouted. “Are the charges all set?”
Scobee said, “Yes, sir.”
“Pile in.”
Judy was up at the front of the transport, already starting the engine. McDivitt slammed the rear doors closed, and the truck lurched into
motion. The engine howled like an animal in pain. Judy made a hard U-turn to the left and accelerated back toward the back of the warehouse, where their brown van was waiting. The thick tires hummed below them. Now faint sirens could be heard. Miller wasn’t sure, but the military police seemed to be coming from more than one direction.
Miller peered out of one of the portals. “They’re getting closer, Major. I think it’s time for some fireworks.”
McDivitt reached into Bean’s satchel and pulled out a green wand that reminded Miller of a military grade dildo. On the top was a red safety cover, and beneath that, a trigger for the charges that they’d just set on the nearby cargo planes.
Scratch said, “Are you sure we’re far enough…”
“Cover your ears,” McDivitt said, and activated the trigger.
The only sound was the transport frame going over a deep pothole. The metal complained.
“Is it on a delay?” asked Miller. Her heart was sinking.
“No.” McDivitt gave Bean a look that would have melted granite. “What’s the story here, Bean?”
“Major,” said Bean, “I swear, those charges were live when I assembled them. I checked everything three times.”
Miller shook her head. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
Scratch shrugged. Miller sighed. She kept her eyes on the approaching security forces. “We killed those poor bastards and gave away our position for nothing?”
The truck lurched to a stop with a squeal and another complaint from the frame. Judy turned in her chair. “Everybody out, double time. Run for it. The security forces are almost here.”
Piper pushed open the back doors and jumped out. Miller and Scratch followed and after them came Scobee and McDivitt. A guilt-ridden Bean was the last man out. He had his weapon in hand, and spun around to cover their retreat. Pale faced and tense, he took up a position next to the loading dock. “It’s my screw up. I’ll cover you. Get in the van and get out of here.”
The Hungry (Book 6): The Rule of Three (The Sheriff Penny Miller Zombie Series) Page 12
