by W. J. Lundy
PRIMAL RESURRECTION
A Whiskey Tango Foxtrot Novel
W.J. LUNDY
Edited by Terri King
Edited by Sara Jones
Illustrated by AJ Powers
PRIMAL RESURRECTION
A Whiskey Tango Foxtrot Novel
W.J. LUNDY
Copyright
© 2018 W. J. Lundy
Disclaimer:
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Some places, especially military locations and facilities, are intentionally vague or incorrect in layout and security perimeter. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental. All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.
Notice: The views expressed herein are NOT endorsed by the United States Government, Department of Defense, Department of the Navy, or the Department of the Army.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Thank you for reading
DON’T FORGET TO CHECK OUT
OTHER BOOKS FROM UNDER THE SHIELD OF PHALANX PRESS
Five Roads to Texas
Sixth Cycle
The Invasion Trilogy
Dead Island: Operation Zulu
INVASION OF THE DEAD SERIES
Whiskey Tango Foxtrot
Zombie Rush
Zed’s World
Grudge
The Path of Ashes
As the Ash Fell
Human Element
This book was formatted by
Chapter 1
Coldwater Compound, Michigan Safe Zone
The coffee was watered down, but it was hot. The tin cup warmed his hands. As he wrapped his dry and worn fingers around it, he found comfort in the old, dented cup. With the room, he wasn’t as lucky. The space was cold and drab, more like a storage locker than a living space. He could see the vapor of every exhale as he fought back the temptation to put his heavy coat back on. Made of cement blocks, obviously not designed for living, it was low-lit and heated by a thick handmade candle. This is what they called a dorm, but to Brad it resembled a cell more than a home.
He looked down at the cup and grimaced. He didn’t know what to call this place or what to think of it. Was this what survival meant in the north? Was this survival? It was the closest he’d been to his home in northern Michigan but suddenly, he felt as a far away as ever. He wasn’t a prisoner—he was sure of that; they’d allowed them to keep their weapons. They provided them with food and treated them well. Treated them like guests. Even given them clean uniforms and bedding at the entrance before ushering them into this underground sanctuary.
Hearing footsteps outside, Brad looked to the door. He could hear children’s voices.
Not a military base—not entirely. A shelter, maybe? he said to himself. A housing area, in the drab confines of a cement building. This is what passes as a safe area? In West Virginia, they’d lived in cabins and walled compounds. They were free to move around and to hunt. But here, in this supposedly safe area, they all seemed to be confined indoors. Is this what safety looks like in the north?
They’d only been here for hours, less than six, maybe. After crossing the wall, they were quickly brought into a tent, which was dressed in clean white fabric. The room, filled with stainless-steel carts and furniture, had the strong scent of bleach and disinfectants. Brad and Chelsea were inspected for infection and injuries, given a chance to shower and exchange their uniforms for fresh ones, then moved into another waiting area. Soon after, an army officer took a quick statement from them. It was supposed to be a debrief, but the man didn’t get far, and it was apparent to Brad that his answers struck a nerve. The de-brief suddenly ended once General Carson’s name was mentioned.
The officer appeared worried, and Brad knew this must have been far from the ordinary, not what they’d expected to hear. He’d felt from the moment they arrived that the place was under siege from primals or something else; he wasn’t sure. They were moved to a small tent with wooden benches, where they waited until a military ambulance arrived. The vehicle had two windows, both covered with tightly coiled wires. The drive was longer than he’d expected. When he was able to see out, they appeared to be driving down city streets, then onto a narrow county road, and finally to this place.
From the outside, it looked like an old manufacturing plant, tall steel-sided buildings surrounded by chain link fencing. The military had augmented the structure with entry control points and tall watchtowers, complete with spotlights and sandbag barriers. All along the perimeter, the gates were secured and guarded. The sentries were as professional as any Brad had seen in Afghanistan. Whoever ran the place was doing a good job.
Once inside, things were remarkably different; instead of the drab feel of a military base, it looked more like a shopping mall. A long center aisle was lined with market squares where people peddled goods. Behind them, Brad could see living spaces—some very elaborate, others nothing more than cardboard shanties. The micro community seemed to go on for hundreds of yards down the middle of the steel building. He smelled wood smoke and roasting meat and vegetables. Brad had turned to move toward them when the escorting soldiers blocked his path and turned him away.
He was told the town square was for civilians only and was quickly moved around a corner to a guarded steel staircase. They descended several levels before stopping at a deep subbasement. A long hallway with doors on both sides, it was previously used for equipment storage and maintenance but was now utilized as soldier and military family housing.
He took another sip of the coffee, shaking himself from his deep thoughts. He looked at Chelsea asleep in the bed by the opposite wall. Watching her sleep, he wondered if they were lucky, or just another step back from where they had been a month ago. Life had been good at the camp, and they could rebuild it if they put in the effort. He wondered if it was a mistake to come here alone without the others.
He heard heavy footsteps in the hall and the casual banter of soldiers on the move. Yeah, they could have stayed in the free territories, but they would never be safe; someone else would always come for them. He felt guilt at leaving Sean and the others, but they knew how to find him, and if they were smart, they would do the same and pack up. Head for the Safe Zones in Michigan or Texas and abandon the wastelands.
Brad shook his head at the self-doubt. “No, leaving was the right thing to do,” he whispered to himself.
There was a light knock on the door, and Brad got to his feet then moved to the entrance. Turning the knob, he pulled the door in and was greeted with the smiling face of a young woman. Her brown hair was
pulled back over green eyes. She held a tray of thick-sliced bread and a bowl of hand-churned butter. Brad opened the door wider and allowed the girl in.
“It’s not much, but it’s the best we can do for breakfast these days.” The girl turned and spotted Chelsea asleep on the bed. “Oh—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
Brad smiled and waved her in. “It’s fine, miss. She’s just tired from the trip; rest when you can.”
The girl smiled again and extended her hand to Brad. “Please, call me Maria.”
Brad accepted her hand and nodded. “My name is—”
“Sergeant Brad Thompson; yes, I know. We haven’t had a survivor from the south in quite some time. Especially a military man still in his uniform. Most of the formal military is gone outside these walls.”
Brad attempted to shrug off the comment before she continued. “Can you tell me what base you came from? Are there more soldiers there?”
He shook his head and looked away. “I’m sorry, no. But there are more soldiers in Texas, and there is an outpost in the Carolinas.” He immediately recognized the woman’s disappointed expression. “But, hey, why worry? You have plenty of soldiers here. I saw the wall; it’s impressive.”
This time it was the woman who shrugged. “The wall…” she whispered, turning away. “Yeah, it was great against the infected. The senator’s council saved us all by constructing the wall. We owe a lot to them.” She looked off into the corner and then dipped her head. “But it didn’t do much to save us from ourselves.”
“You mean General Carson and his raiders? I wouldn’t worry about him anymore.”
She reached out and took Brad’s hand. “Carson…” She frowned. “I know the name. He’s a monster, but the movement against us is far larger than just one man. We are constantly under attack. Without help, we won’t be able to stay here much longer.”
“Stay?”
She nodded. “Most of the safe zones in the east have already been vacated.”
“Vacated?” Brad asked, still not understanding.
She nodded. “Yes, when the Alliance began breaking apart, a new government began to form in Pennsylvania. It goes by many names, but some of the people call it the New Republic. They pretend to be patriots, but I swear to you they aren’t.”
Brad scoffed. “If Carson was a part of it, then I believe you.”
Her brow tightened. “Our senator refused to join with them. He refused to give in to their demands.” She turned away then looked back at Brad. “Texas was our only hope to hold out against them. When you arrived—well, we’d hoped you were part of them.”
There was a stirring from the end of the room. Chelsea rose up on an elbow as she looked at them, overhearing part of the conversation. “I don’t understand. They said Carson was in charge of the resistance. He’s dead. It’s over.”
“Dead?” Maria pulled back her hands, embarrassed when she realized she’d held Brad’s for so long. She moved to the wall and checked the coffee pot, finding it nearly empty. “I heard what you told the soldiers at the gate. If Carson is dead, things will only get worse.”
“Worse? How?” Brad said, a puzzled expression building on his face. “I thought Carson was the one causing all the problems. With him gone—”
“I shouldn’t have said anything; it’s not my place.” Maria turned away. “I’ll have more supplies sent to your room. But you should dress and take advantage of this time to clean up.”
“Wait,” Chelsea said, moving to a sitting position. “The soldiers, they said this is a safe zone.”
Maria nodded. “Safer than some, but we don’t know for how much longer.”
“I still don’t understand,” Chelsea said.
“It’ll all be explained soon enough. Please get cleaned up; he will want to see you as soon as he arrives from the capital.”
“Who?” Brad asked.
“The senator, of course.”
Chapter 2
Crabtree, West Virginia. Free Virginia Territories
The scent of bacon woke him. He pulled the tattered wool blanket away from his face as he looked into the hazy room. Brooks was standing over him with a porcelain plate. He angled it down just enough for Sean to see the strips of glistening bacon.
“Are you kidding me?” Sean asked.
Brooks took a long strip of bacon, folded it in half then pushed the entire thing into his mouth, grinning, before handing the plate to Sean, who quickly stood upright. “Where in the hell did you get bacon?”
“You can thank Texas; those boys know how to live,” Brooks said, taking a step back. “Seems even with the Primal holocaust, the wild boar population is thriving. One thing Texas has plenty of is pork.” The big man opened a knapsack, removed a large slab of cornbread and tossed it onto the bed next to Sean.
Sean nodded at him. “You bring coffee too?”
Brooks shook his head. “You can get your own coffee.” He moved across the room and dropped to a stool near a glowing woodstove. “So, what’s the plan?”
Shrugging, Sean broke off a corner of the cornbread and stuffed it into his mouth. “The Rangers are setting up here. By the sounds of it, they have no intention of surrendering this ground now that they’ve taken it.”
“Surrender it to who?” Brooks asked.
Sean shrugged. “I don’t know. Makes no difference to us; we’re headed back out—”
“After Brad,” Brooks said, interrupting. “That’s what I’m talking about.”
“I figured you were anxious to get moving,” Sean said. The younger SEAL had been harassing him to track down Brad and Chelsea since they’d been separated on the train just days earlier. It took them the better part of two days just to get all the civilians back to Crabtree in one piece. The long walk put a beating on all of them, and now Sean was wary about asking his men to turn back around and head out without any rest.
“What’s the plan then?” Brooks asked. “You want me to get our crew gathered up?”
“No,” Sean said between mouthfuls of cornbread and bacon. “We’ll take Joey. I won’t ask the others to leave their families again; they’ve risked enough. Besides, we can move faster with a small group.”
Sean finished the last of the bacon and tossed the empty plate at the foot of the bed. He turned out and grabbed his trousers hanging off a hook and quickly dressed. “And keep it to yourself; outside of you and Villegas, I haven’t told anyone about our plan.”
“So just us and Joey? What about Hassan and the others? They’ll want in.”
Sean shook his head. “I know they would demand to come if asked. That’s why we can’t tell them. They all have families now; we’re the last bachelors out here. If we’re going to leave, we need to keep it quiet. And as far as Texas is concerned, their mission has to come first. They won’t approve of us slipping out of camp.”
“What the hell are you talking about? Mission, my ass.”
Sean laughed. “Come on. Burt has called a morning briefing. Cloud is supposed to be coming down out of the mountain so we can talk things out. I’ll bring up our excursion to him there.”
Brooks shook his head. “What is there to bring up? It doesn’t matter what he thinks.”
Sean made his way to a weapons rack by the door and slung his rifle over his shoulder. “Well, we kinda entered into an alliance with Texas, and we have a previous obligation to Cloud. Or did you forget that? They won’t be pleased with us just running off. We have commitments to these people too.”
“You’re shitting me, right?”
Seeing he was starting to rub a nerve, Sean looked back. “Just relax, brother. We’re going, but we have to be cool about it. We need to stay on good terms with the guys now that they are providing the bacon,” Sean said, throwing another wink. “Now, come on. Let’s go have this meeting.”
Sean opened the door and stepped outside. Snow was coming down and blowing across the frozen muddy road. Most of the tent city built by the raiders was still intact but was
now supplemented with more tents constructed by the Rangers from Texas. Men were positioned all along the walls, and the watchtowers had been rebuilt or repaired. The doors to the large barn stood open, and supplies were being unloaded from a large flatbed truck.
Sean waited for Brooks to fall in beside him then, without turning his head, said, “They are intent on staying. No doubt about it.” He pointed out the activity in Crabtree.
Brooks grunted. “All of our civilians were moved back to Camp Cloud or farther south to the main farm sometime last night. There ain’t a damn thing keeping us here,” Brooks said, his voice now lower. “Our troopers left here can handle themselves. I heard some talk that they have another company of Rangers moving in tomorrow. Might even be regular Army troops out of Fort Hood on their way up.” Brooks paused. “Don’t sound like this all ended here; they’re prepping for something big.”
Sean shook his head and continued walking toward a building marked Horton’s Sundries on a tin sign over the door. The raiders had previously used the building as a meeting place—a sort of headquarters—and it appeared to match the requirements of the Rangers, as well. Sean opened the door and felt the warmth of the fire as he entered, stomping his feet to loose the mud and snow from his boots.
