Primal Resurrection: A Whiskey Tango Foxtrot Novel: Book 8

by W. J. Lundy

  The room was filled with talking men in mixed uniforms. Either none of them noticed Sean’s entrance, or they were just not concerned with it. He looked to the woodstove and spotted a steaming coffee pot on the top. He made his way straight for it but was cut off by Colonel Cloud before reaching his destination. Blocking Sean’s path, the man grinned and turned to pour himself a cup. He then turned back and smiled before handing the filled ceramic mug to Sean. “I was just catching up with Burt. He says you were an immense help in getting our people back.”

  Brooks grunted behind him. “If by ‘help’ he means us doing all the heavy lifting, then I’d agree.”

  Sean frowned and stepped in front of Brooks. “What’s going on out there? Looks like they are staging for something big. This is a hell of a lot more than I expected.”

  Cloud looked over his shoulder toward a group of Rangers positioned around a large map table. He leaned in and hushed his voice. “Things are a lot worse than they led us to believe.”

  Brooks chuckled, drawing Cloud’s eye, before Sean shot the younger SEAL a glare.

  “Am I missing something?” Cloud asked.

  Sean nodded. “The Rangers seem to have a habit of leaving out details. If they had been forthcoming from the start, we could have saved a lot of people. It was on Burt’s word about the treaty mission that we took that party out of Camp Cloud. We left the place defenseless on his instructions. He failed to mention anything about this Carson character.”

  Cloud used a hand to rub his chin and grimaced. “I see, but I’m afraid that’s all water under the bridge now. As far as those out east are concerned, there is no distinction between us and Texas anymore.”

  “That’s all old news, with Carson as good as gone, isn’t it?” Sean questioned.

  Cloud raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure?”

  Brooks pushed his way back into the conversation and nodded. “Hell yeah. Brad went after him, and he wouldn’t have missed the opportunity. Which brings me to ask—”

  Sean raised his hand, cutting off his partner again, then looked at Cloud. “Sir, we still got people out there, and—like you said—the disposition of this Carson is unverified. I’d like to mount a party to go check it out.”

  Cloud rubbed his chin and stared at a far wall, considering his options. “There’s a problem with that. It seems the original mission we agreed to… well, things have changed. These people aren’t here to stage for an invasion of the North; they’re here to build up a defensive perimeter.”

  “Against what?” Sean said. “But if we confirm Carson is dead—”

  “That’s only part of it. Carson was a big shot with this group here, but as far as the larger picture, it sounds like he was just another bully that was looking for a land grab,” Cloud interrupted. “One of many.”

  “The hell you mean ‘one of many’? Wait… all of this? What they did to the camp? All the dead?” Brooks said. “Carson was the one behind it all.”

  Cloud looked back at the table of Rangers again. “There’s a lot of stuff they held back. Carson was only a chunk of what’s been moving against the Midwest Alliance—and he wasn’t even a key player, as far as I can discern. Sounds like messing with Carson was just a distraction from what they’ve really got going on up North.”

  This time Brooks pushed ahead. “Finding our people was a distraction?! Going after Carson was a distraction?!” The pitch in his voice rose as he spoke. “With all due respect, sir, we wouldn’t have even been in this mess if it wasn’t for Texas.”

  Cloud raised a palm, silencing Brooks. “Relax, I get it. But there is more to it… a lot more.”

  “Then let us in on it,” Sean said.

  Looking behind him, Cloud pushed the two SEALs to an out-of-the-way corner. “Texas is saying there are hordes of infected massing in the north. They are looking to setup defensive lines to keep them from moving south.”

  “We’ve dealt with hordes before,” Brooks said.

  “Not like this. We’re talking about massive amounts moving in from New York, Indy, Chicago… everything that was dormant has been activated by all the infighting. Not only that, but Burt says they are hungry and erratic. It’s as bad as the days after the fall. The doctors at Fort Sam Houston are scared, and if they are scared we should be too.”

  Sean rubbed his chin. “All the more reason for us to go after Brad; hell, we can do a bit of recon for you in the meantime.”

  A Ranger behind them started barking for the men’s attention. Cloud leaned in closer to Brooks and Sean. He took in a deep breath then let it out slowly. “I don’t have confidence on where this is going, so if I were you—” Cloud paused again and looked back toward the men gathering at the front of the room. “If I were you, I’d pack my gear and get out on the trail before I’m ordered to stop you.”

  Chapter 3

  Near Crabtree, West Virginia. Free Virginia Territories

  Henry used a stick to push the coals together at the edge of his fire-pit. He watched as the flames nipped at the carcass of the rabbit hung on a spit. The old man sat on a high overlook, positioned in the shadows of tall pines so the smoke from his fire broke apart and dispersed in the wind as it wended through the trees. He picked this spot intentionally so he could look down over the camp of Crabtree, and this morning the view was providing plenty of entertainment.

  Men were moving in fast; they’d been pouring into Crabtree all morning long. As civilians loaded in the backs of covered trucks and moved south—presumably back toward Dan Cloud’s place—military vehicles were convoying in and staging on the main road. From the looks of it, they were setting up for something big.

  Henry heard a whinny behind him and turned to see his horses, as well as two new ones, tied amongst the trees. He’d found the four of them sitting at the crossroad, kicking at the snow to get at the grass beneath. He knew his girls and knew they would follow the trail that led back to his cabin higher up in the mountains. The horses had been making their way home the way they’d been trained, which is exactly what he should be doing now. Being a loner had kept him alive during the fall, but that was the extent of it. After his wife passed, he’d been nothing more than a shell, and it was no way to live. The last week, being back with the men and making a difference, had sparked something in Henry. Now, with everything that had happened, he wasn’t sure he could bear going back to his solitary existence.

  Still, looking down at Crabtree, he wasn’t sure what that meant. Maybe he’d invite folks back to live on his farm. Maybe he just needed to spark up some sort of association with those people down there. But maybe it was more than that. The way he felt knowing his friend had been murdered for nothing… the way those poor people below had been treated. It all sparked a fire in Henry, one he wasn’t sure he could soon extinguish. Maybe he’d just continue on alone, looking for something else, anything else.

  A snapping branch and the locking back of a hammer caused him to freeze. He dropped the stick he’d been probing the fire with and raised his gloved hands into the air. Henry looked toward his right boot and could see the lever-action rifle. Its stock was within arm’s reach, but he was certain it would be the last reach he’d ever make.

  “No need to shoot; I’m friendly,” Henry called out. “It’s just me alone here. I’ve got some food and water if that’s what you’re after.”

  Henry held his position and listened intently to the sounds of shuffling feet and heavy footfalls in the brush behind him. The horses whinnied again before snorting at the unknown person intruding in on their space. The stranger crossed into view, circling around the fire and stopping to Henry’s front. Big and burly with a red beard and a black watch cap, the man pointed an old .357 Colt revolver directly at Henry’s chest. His chapped lips pursed, and his eyes widened before lowering the pistol. “Hey, wait a minute; I know you,” the man said.

  Henry nodded, grinning. He recognized the stranger from the gate watch at Crabtree. Henry slowly lowered his hands and spoke. “You were w
orkin’ the gate the day I rode into town.”

  The bearded man nodded and moved closer to the fire. “Yeah, that’s right—the bounty hunter. You rode in with that kid.” The man’s head swiveled then looked back to Henry. “Where the hell is he, anyhow?”

  Henry shrugged and retrieved his poker stick, adjusting the roasting rabbit. “Not sure. We got separated out there in the bush. Came back this way hoping to meet up with him in Crabtree; that’s when I saw the place been overrun. Figured I should keep my distance for a bit. Least till I can figure out what’s going on down there.” Henry reached into the fire and lifted the rabbit. He tore off a hind quarter and tossed it to the man across from him. “What the hell happened down there, anyway?” Henry asked.

  The bearded man shook his head and scowled. “I don’t know. They come in at night. Attacked us right after General Carson arrived on the train.” The man paused, taking a hearty bite of the rabbit. He looked off in the distance, contemplating as he chewed. He nodded his head then looked back at Henry. “They were ready for us, almost like they were looking for us. They hit hard and fast. We lost control of the walls then everyone kind of just let out.

  “Carson abandoned us by knocking the wall open. Busted right through the gate, leaving us all exposed. What was we supposed to do? Them infected were inside and men was attacking from the back. Carson gone on his train. I lost sight of Gus and the others, and once the infected started in, I made a break for it.” The man again lifted the rabbit to his mouth. He took a bite and pointed the leg bone at the dancing flames “You know burning a fire so close to the camp is taking a risk. They got a lot of men down there; they’ll be patrolling soon. Those boys from Texas get a hold of you, they liable to hang you on sight.”

  Henry nodded as if considering the suggestion. “Yeah, I reckon you’re right on that.” He took a bite at the meat and washed it down with a swig from a canteen before tossing it across the fire to the bearded man. “So, tell me, big man—”

  “Name’s Riley.”

  Henry dipped his chin. “Okay, Riley, so what was to have happened if you didn’t recognize me from the camp? Were you figuring to shoot me?”

  The man shrugged. “Nah, nothing like that, old timer. Look.” Riley lifted the pistol back from his lap and flipped open the empty cylinder. “I ran empty during the fight. Been out here just looking for a way out… my chance to get away. If I didn’t know you, I imagine things would go similar. I’d get some of this here rabbit and some of your water and let out. I’m not fixing to kill anyone that ain’t looking to kill me.”

  “So, what’s your business then? You headed back east? You looking for Carson? Gus maybe?”

  The big man looked at Henry, trying to study his expression, before shaking his head no. “Screw Carson. To hell with Gus. I’ve never been interested in his shit. Only reason I’m here is because they were holding my family hostage.” The man turned and looked over his shoulder toward Crabtree then back at Henry. “I figure with all of that down there in Crabtree, maybe I can get back to my family. Get them out while Carson is busy with problems of his own.”

  “Sounds reasonable to me,” Henry said, smiling. “Where would you take ’em? After you fetch ’em, of course.”

  The man frowned and gazed back into the fire. “Not sure. Anywhere free, I guess. Michigan, Texas… hell, I’d take a cave if it meant seeing them again.”

  “You think they would take you in Texas after what you’ve done?”

  The man looked at Henry, his face turning hard and cold. “And what exactly have I done, old man? I watched a gate, I trained people on how to secure a compound; I never had a part in any of the other evil shit Gus and his people were up too.” The man took a long drink from the canteen and wiped his chin with his sleeve. “What the hell was I supposed to do? Carson had my family. Said he’d kill them if I didn’t go to work for him.”

  Henry raised his hands and smiled. “Hey, partner, I’m not judging you. I was just saying.”

  The old man worked on a shirt pocket and retrieved his pipe. He tapped it against his knee before stuffing it with tobacco. He grimaced and placed the pipe between his teeth. He lit it, puffing until smoke drifted from the end. “You say you trained folks? You military or something? A policeman maybe?”

  The big man let his head hang as he looked down and into the fire. “Nah, nothing like that. I worked in the steelworks until it shut down. With nothing else to do, I caught me a security job guarding the same damn mill I used to work in. You know, I hated that job. But that factory, the steel buildings, and tall fences are probably what saved my family.”

  Henry nodded, puffing on the pipe. “How so?”

  “When people started getting sick, when things went to hell, others went to the shelters; not me. I had the keys to the steelworks, and there was plenty in there. Plenty to keep us alive while the rest of the country went to shit.”

  Henry puffed on the pipe, nodding his approval. “And no problems from the infected?”

  “Some, but we were able to harden the fences and seal the gates. For the first few months, it was mostly a game of hide and seek. We stayed quiet and hoped the infected outside wouldn’t hear us. We made it one month, then two, and before you know it, it was winter. We did good, considering. We’d go out during the day, find survivors and bring them back. We saved lots of people; we really did. We had a good thing going until Gus and his group came along.”

  “What happened?”

  “We were naïve. They came under the flag of the Midwest Alliance, said they wanted to trade, to work with us. Hell, you know, we had it bad enough just trying to keep people fed; we let too many in, got overextended. Seeing Gus and his men roll up in them trucks and eighteen wheelers full of goods… we kinda thought we’d been saved.”

  Henry took a long puff on his pipe. “When did it all turn on you?”

  “First evening they was there.” Riley looked across the fire directly at Henry, trying to read him. “They waited until nightfall. We’d only let a handful of them stay inside, so one of them must have killed the man at the gate and let the rest in. They took it all, killed many of us, then those of us he could leverage, he made us join up with him. Took our families and left some of his own scum behind to take over the place.”

  “That easy?” Henry asked.

  Riley bit at his lower lip. “I know you must be thinking what kind of coward runs off and leaves his family with folks like that.”

  Henry shook his head. “I wasn’t thinking no such thing. I reckon they didn’t give you much choice.”

  “No choice that ended above ground. There was ten of us when we left the mill. I’m the only one of the group left.”

  “And now you want to go back?” Henry asked.

  Riley nodded his head. “I’m going back. I have to try.”

  Henry took a final puff from the pipe then tapped it against the log he was sitting on, knocking loose the ashes. “Well, if you’re looking to travel east into trouble, then I reckon I should go with you.”

  Riley looked at him, his face scowled. “And why would you do that?”

  The old man stood and pointed out and across the valley at the gates of Crabtree. He watched as three men left the gates of the compound below. They rode stiff-backed and high in the saddle. Instead of rifles in sheaths, they carried them across their chests. Henry smiled, knowing who the men were and thankful they were still alive. He watched as they guided the horses down the road and up an embankment toward the railroad bed. He stood and pointed toward the men on horseback. “See those riders down there? I know ’em and I reckon they’ll be going east too. I think they’ll be good ones to join up with.”

  “And why is that?” Riley scoffed.

  Henry laughed, kicking snow over the fire. “Let’s just say we hate a lot of the same people.”

  Chapter 4

  Coldwater Compound, Michigan Safe Zone

  They were escorted down a tight corridor, past hallway intersections and unmark
ed doors. Light bulbs hung from the ceiling by thin wires. The walls were drab and made entirely of concrete. At the end of the hallway, a uniformed soldier removed a keyring from his pocket and unlocked a thick, steel door. The soldier pulled down on a heavy handle and swung the door open, revealing a staircase leading up. Before Brad could ask where it went, another soldier stepped into view. The man was carrying an MP5 close to his chest. “Sergeant, if you could follow me,” the man said, looking Brad in the eye.

  Brad turned his head to look at Chelsea, giving her a reassuring smile before stepping through the doorway and following the guard up the stairs. There were no windows in the stairway and, as before, the passage was dimly lit. The soldier spoke over his shoulder without turning his head. “This was once a cable conduit for the plant’s servers. When we moved in, we ripped it all out to make room; now it’s a fast track to the control room.”

  “Interesting.” Brad looked at Chelsea and rolled his eyes. “Where exactly are we going?”

  The soldier stopped at another locked door and turned back to face him. “The senator has been eager to meet you.”

  “He’s in there?” Brad asked.

  The soldier grinned and rapped his knuckles on the door. After a brief pause, there was the clunking of a lock, and the door pulled out into a larger room. The soldier waved Brad and Chelsea ahead then secured the door behind them. Brad turned, watching as they quickly relocked the door.

  “It’s all for our safety,” an older white-haired man said from the front of the room.

  Brad took a side step and scanned the space. They were in a large rectangular office. Workstations covered with dust spanned the room, and dead computer monitors covered the desks. Old whiteboards and faded engineering charts were pinned to the walls. Brad examined the white-haired man, who stood in front of the large window at the end of the room. Wearing burgundy slacks and a grey jacket that didn’t match in texture or color, Brad found himself thinking the man looked more like a high school math teacher than a senator.