First Wave Series Box Set (Books 1-3)

by JT Sawyer

  “Could the meds be keeping this in remission—slowing her metabolism down enough to prevent it from spreading?”

  “No, we tried that on test subjects with no obvious effects. It could be she is one of the three-percenters who are blessed with immunity or…” He paused staring at the floor and back at the girl. “…or it could be the virus has mutated and she won’t exhibit the normal replication pattern found in others during the first wave. The only way to find out for certain is to let her completely revive and follow the natural progression of the virus.”

  “What about the vaccine—will it be ready in time to try on her?”

  “It is nearly done—maybe another thirty minutes, but it would be best to use it on a non-human test subject first.”

  Travis raised an eyebrow, glancing at the empty animal cages to his left. “It looks like you’re fresh out of chimpanzees or whatever the hell you were spoon-feeding in those cages.”

  “Logan should have some lab animals at his facility. He said it was well-equipped with the proper biotech equipment.”

  As they spoke, Becka began squirming and trying to focus her eyes. “Talia, get me some zip ties,” Travis said. He looked down at Becka. “Sorry, sweetie, I promise these restraints will be temporary until I can get you feeling better.” Talia walked over and they secured her wrists and ankles to the stretcher which was resting upon the table.

  “What’s happening to me? Where am I?” She stuttered out the words, trying to lift her head.

  “You’re with me, Becka. We finally made it to Durango and are almost done with the cure. Just hold on.”

  “Travis, is that you?” she said, rapidly blinking her eyes as they darted around the room.

  “You bet. I’m not leaving your side so just lie still and it shouldn’t be long before you’re up and moving around again,” he said nervously, looking up at Gummerman. Then he nodded for the man to go back to his research.

  ****

  Three hours later, Travis’s patience was depleted and he stormed over to the counter, where Gummerman was leaning over his laptop studying a graph. “What the fuck is taking so long—you told me you were nearly done a while back. Is it going to work or not?” Travis growled.

  “I’m one man—I’m doing the best I can. Do you see a lab full of technicians assisting me?”

  “If the vaccine doesn’t work and the girl dies, then you die—get it?”

  “Travis, a word, please?” said Logan, who was sitting at a desk to his left.

  Travis pivoted abruptly and walked over to Logan. He planted his fists on the desk; his face was taut and a vein in his neck was protruding. “Is this old man a doctor or not? He’s got more degrees than a fucking thermometer and yet he can’t explain what’s going on most of the time,” said Travis.

  “Give it a rest for a while,” Logan said. “Did you think we were just going to prance in here, hand off the vial, and line up for our immunization shots? It’s going to take time.”

  Travis touched his fingers to his temples while closing his eyes, feeling the pressure mounting. “Time…out of time, biding my time, pressed for time, no more time…” he said through clenched teeth. “Fuck this. All of it,” he said, swiping his arm across the desk and shoving everything onto the floor with a crash.

  Logan leaned back with his eyes wide. Talia came up alongside Travis, resting a hand on his arm. “Let’s go up top and get some fresh air. The walls in this place can close in on a person after a while.”

  Travis rolled his shoulders back and pulled in his chin, taking a deep breath. “Alright by me,” he said, wrenching his jacket off the chair and trudging down the corridor with Talia in tow.

  As they walked, Travis heard a speaker on the wall begin blaring. “That’s the perimeter security alarm,” said Talia. They bolted back to the main chamber and saw Logan and the doctor scanning the security camera monitor. It showed three groups of heavily armed assault teams moving towards the water tanker above.

  “Those sure don’t look like our guys. Our teams must have been eliminated,” said Talia.

  “Those are Pallas agents. Our helos and Team One pulled out a while ago but I left enough breadcrumbs to lure the opposition here into our reach,” said Logan.

  “How are we going to get out of here now?” said Travis.

  “The trick is not to—not yet, anyway. I have a squadron of my remaining Blackhawks two miles away with instructions to strafe the opposition once they are in position and take down their helos. I’ve had my people feeding false intel over the airwaves to Pallas today about the location of our units here.”

  “But they know where we are,” said Travis. “They’ll just send more troops.”

  “I’m counting on it, and when they do we will track their point of origin and respond in kind with a drone strike. I know it’s somewhere in Colorado but I haven’t been able to get a fix on it as of yet. Not until this opportunity presented itself. Hopefully by the end of this day we will have our precious vaccine and a crater in the ground at Pallas’s western headquarters,” said Logan as he radioed his Blackhawk teams to commence the air assault.

  Gummerman pulled himself away and returned to the research area. The rest of the group hovered around the computer screen, taking in the slaughter as it unfolded above. The minigun strike from above resembled other images of offensives Travis had witnessed via satellite before. The sound of the conflict above sounded like rainfall on the water-tanker hatch as the reinforced walls in the subterranean complex muffled out the unfolding of wanton murder. Within minutes several of the security cameras went black as the miniguns took their toll. Two cameras to the north remained intact, revealing the carnage of bullet-shattered bodies strewn in the red snow. Explosions in the distance followed next as Pallas’s helos were destroyed. When it was all over, only the hum of Gummerman’s centrifuge penetrated the former silence of the chamber and reminded Travis of his whereabouts.

  “Hell of a thing, isn’t it,” he said in a low voice, staring at the countless figures on the screen.

  Talia sighed as she gazed over the bloodbath. “Hell of a thing.”

  Chapter 21

  After the assault, Logan tapped on his earpiece and activated his radio. “This is Raven. Do you copy, over?”

  “Go ahead, Raven,” said the voice on the other end.

  “Do we have any more inbound enemy helos yet?”

  “Negative. No movement.”

  “What about any additional movement in the immediate area?”

  There was a pause and then the voice resumed. “No human movement—but plenty of RAMs making their way to your location.”

  “Shit, all that noise and now the fresh meat up top must be drawing them in. How many creatures and what’s their ETA?”

  “This is a pretty thick signature, sir. I’d say around two hundred. They are about twenty minutes out from your location. They are moving slow like we’ve seen before in the higher elevations.”

  “Copy that. Let me know if you pick up any chatter about the enemy. Raven out.”

  “I thought you couldn’t get reception down here?” said Travis.

  “No, I can get reception here alright. I just used that as an excuse to go up top and flash my face around for a while so Pallas would pick up sat imagery that I was here and zoom in on our location.”

  “Never thought I’d hear the day when you used yourself as bait instead of one of us,” Travis said.

  “Ha-ha!” shouted Gummerman. “Yes, at last. At long last.” The old man turned, holding up a small test tube and wrinkling his leathery skin with a huge grin. “Lady and gentlemen, this is it.”

  “Great, because I don’t want to stick around this tomb any longer than we have to,” said Logan.

  “We ain’t leaving until Becka gets the serum. Otherwise, she could turn or the virus could claim her life.”

  “You really willing to play God with this girl?” said Logan as he grabbed his gear and laptop off the desk.

 
“Spare me your self-righteousness. I didn’t see her survive this long only to have her die in this vault.”

  Logan shot a glance at Gummerman, who has nervously biting his lower lip. “We should test this out on an animal subject first, don’t you think?”

  “Alright, Travis—but remember there will be consequences for this girl and an even greater burden on your back if this doesn’t work.”

  Logan nodded to Gummerman to proceed. The older man grabbed a syringe and extracted some of the yellow serum from the vial. He walked over to Becka and slid up the left sleeve of her sweater while Travis stood on the opposite side, consoling her. Minutes after receiving the injection, Becka showed no change.

  “OK, now we gotta go, before we get pinned here,” said Logan. “Help me get her up the ladder and we’ll be on our way.”

  While they began lifting her, one of Logan’s men shouted from the entrance chamber. “Too late, sir, these things are moving in around the water tower.”

  “There’s a secondary escape route in the storage room in the hall. It leads down to the river where the doctor found me,” said Talia. “From there, we’d have to hoof it on foot to some flat ground where the helos could extract us.”

  “It seems that there’s no alternative,” said Travis.

  “Alright, take some men and sweep the escape exit,” Logan said, nodding to Talia. “Travis and I will take care of the girl.”

  “That’s mighty dignified of you, Logan. But how are your men gonna get a fix on your shiny aura if you’re in the rear?”

  “Shut up already and help me lift her.” Logan scowled while looking back at Gummerman, who was busy packing notebooks and vials. “Grab what you need, Doc, this is going to be a hasty exfil.”

  Chapter 22

  As they moved through the dimly lit tunnel, Travis could smell damp earth and decaying leaves as they neared the riverside hatch. One operative, along with Gummerman, was in the rear behind him while the rest of the seven-man team was up front with Talia, who was in the lead. Travis gripped the improvised stretcher, trying to keep it level as he and Logan scurried through the low corridor.

  Talia whispered over her shoulder as they all huddled near the rusted door frame. “Prairie Falcon indicated that the immediate area around the tunnel and river are clear of RAMs. We need to move northeast, hugging the riverbank until we make it to the bridge, 90 meters away,” she said, removing the safety on her M4. “From there, we have to cross over to a city park where the helos will extract us. The pilot said if we can get there without incident, then we should be far enough away from the downtown area where most of the zombies are clustered.”

  “This little lady ain’t getting any lighter, so any time you’re ready,” said Travis, adjusting his handhold.

  Logan nodded at Talia, then she proceeded to slowly open the steel door as it groaned on its blemished hinges. Daylight pierced the dank confines of the tunnel as Talia pushed her way past a twisted oak branch, currant bushes, and dead ferns that were along the little-used pathway outside. Ten feet away was the surging Animas river, heavy with chunks of jagged ice and driftwood.

  Travis and Logan moved cautiously over the slippery rocks, constantly staggering to maintain their balance. The air held a faint odor of ammonia but he could only see a handful of RAMs wandering across the river as they greedily searched for any signs of the living.

  The entire procession of warriors moved like a black ribbon along the narrow band of shoreline. Gummerman was the only one who stood out as he clumsily tried to negotiate the slick river cobbles while holding on to his laptop case and satchel of notebooks. Travis could hear the older man cursing in pain with each step.

  “Shut your piehole, Gummerman, or you’re gonna alert those pus-brains to our location,” murmured Travis.

  “I’m trying, young man,” Gummerman whispered.

  As they crept up to the steel girders under the narrow footbridge, Travis saw the park in the distance. It was around two hundred meters away and completely exposed. Two Blackhawks were circling in the distance, awaiting Logan’s command to descend.

  Logan beckoned one of his men to come over and take his end of the stretcher. Then he clamored over to the cement incline and slowly raised his head along the guard rails on the bridge, scanning the path ahead.

  He dropped back down towards the group. “Talia—get everyone to the field. I’m going to skirt around to the left and divert the RAMs’ attention towards my location by that three-story office building there,” he said, pointing to a structure a hundred yards in the opposite direction from the intended landing zone. “Give me a minute to draw their attention and then haul ass to the field.”

  “Gonna go down in a glorious battle so you can get one of those engraved bronze plaques on your grave, eh?” said Travis.

  “I plan on seeing you in the chopper in a few minutes. Have ’em pick me up on top of that building once everyone is securely on board.”

  They got into a tight formation and prepared to move. Talia radioed in to the pilots as Logan sprinted from his concealed position below the bridge. Within seconds, the nearest zombies turned sharply to his movement and began advancing.

  With their suppressed rifles, Talia and three other operators began dispatching zombies who were getting too close to Logan.

  A few minutes later, Logan had peeled to his left and began pounding on a truck’s horn in an abandoned parking lot. This immediately garnered the attention of a throng of undead that were headed towards the park. Talia motioned for the rest of the group to begin moving across the bridge and then in the opposite direction to the riverside park.

  Travis was clutching the stretcher as Becka’s figure jostled under the blankets and her restraints while Gummerman ran alongside him. Travis could see the Blackhawks descending and the crew members inside sniping the undead that were closing in around the park. To his front, Talia and the others had their weapons ablaze, swiftly dispatching the growing crowd of creatures encircling the field.

  As they ran past a brick restroom, Gummerman lost his grip on his satchel and dropped it into the powdery snow. He stopped to retrieve it while the rest of the group continued moving and one man slowed to cover him. With the item in hand, Gummerman stood up as a wispy figure jumped out from behind the building onto the operator’s back, taking a massive bite out of his cervical region. The man fell hard as the creature climbed over him, ripping into his supple flesh. Gummerman was aghast, shrieking in horror. He turned and looked into the corpulent face of an approaching zombie with skin that looked like flaked drywall. It stared at him momentarily and then descended upon the body of the mangled soldier a few feet away.

  Gummerman’s feet refused to budge and he stood white-faced, clutching his belongings to his chest while the other zombies feasted on the fallen soldier. A second later, he saw the creatures’ skulls splinter into red fragments from rounds sent downrange from the other operators. The doctor swung around and staggered towards the rest of the group in the distance.

  As they approached the helos, Travis and the other man slid Becka on board while the rest of the operators formed into an arc behind them, dropping the ever-increasing horde of zombies. He could hear the rattle of gunfire interspersed with constant magazine changes as their weapons ran red hot under the assault.

  With Becka and Gummerman on board, he turned and tapped Talia on the shoulder, shouting over the sound of the rotors. “We’re ready to roll; let’s get Logan.”

  As each operator peeled back into the helo, Travis and the others kept shooting at the approaching creatures. As they ascended, a vortex of white powder encapsulated the crowd of undead below. A few minutes later, Logan was safely aboard, the barrel of his rifle red hot and still smoking as he buckled himself in. As the helos cleared the city and flew north through the spruce-covered mountains towards Montrose, Travis looked over at Talia, who nodded with a sigh of relief. “Just like old times, eh, amigo?” she said.

  “I’ve come to prefer the
hours after a mission, myself—when you’re at the bar, countin’ all your fingers and having your friends close at hand,” Travis said.

  Chapter 23

  Four hours later at the hospital in Montrose, Travis stood outside the observation room where Becka was located. She was in a triple-sealed intensive care unit with a physician and two nurses in hazmat suits examining her. Her temperature had receded and her normal color was returning but she was still unconscious. Logan’s chief virologist indicated that the vaccine had worked and her healthy red blood cells were rebounding but he wasn’t sure if her recovery would last weeks or months, given she was the first survivor.

  Travis had been pacing back and forth for the better part of an hour and a heavy fatigue was sweeping over him. As he stood with his arms crossed in front of the viewing area, he could hear numerous doctors and lab assistants who were scurrying around the central desk behind him discussing news of the cure. His head was reeling with the noise of their conversations, coupled with the past forty-eight hours of insanity. Feeling the walls closing in on him, he moved off to his left, ducked into a side room and closed the door. At last there was quiet. No wind on his back, no strange nighttime sounds to worry about, no one’s whereabouts to account for. He walked to a large window and yanked aside the faded yellow curtains.

  Peering over the city, he couldn’t believe how well ordered it appeared, with people moving around the streets and the occasional truck driving down the main strip. He leaned his hands on the cold windowsill, staring out at the vibrant avenues below. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, wondering if he was dreaming or if the past three months had been some kind of hallucinatory hell he had been trapped in. His mind raced over the images of his friends, the landscape that they had survived in, and the wide-eyed faces of the people he had killed. Was it really over now? Was this the end of this madness and the beginning of the hope he had so desperately fought for?