“Tell me, Romeo Ramirez. Are you a Bible-believing man?”
“Four generations of Catholics in my blood. You?”
“I have no faith to speak of. My dad was a Baptist, and my mom was a Methodist. I never saw anything in their lives that led me to believe anything they told me was true.”
Romeo remembered the preacher’s prophecy and fell somberly quiet.
“That being said,” Mason continued, “I don’t believe in fate and destiny and that jive, either. I’m not going to kill you. I’m going to leave you there to die as you see fit.”
Mason left, grabbing Lydia by the hand and Shemika in the other. “Let’s go, ladies.”
“Where are we going, Mason Loss?” Shemika asked.
“Don’t you have a brother west of here, Shemika Young?”
“I do, but he’s a big boy that can handle himself. I only said that because I don’t like talking to strangers,” she said with a smile on her face. “When you pressed me to help you save this little button, I couldn’t say no. I’m glad you talked me into it.”
Mason looked deep into her eyes. They were so beautiful that they drowned out everything the Ebony Pistols had done to her face. All Mason could do was smile when he looked at her. It took about a minute of time to pass before he could speak again.
“We should probably head east. Not only will it be a warmer climate, but I hear there’s no ash on the ground.”
“Is that right?”
“Yeah, I hear the farther east you go, the thinner the ash.”
“Do you believe they might have a summer home for us?”
“Probably not. I suspect the eastern states will be overcrowded with travelers trying to get as far away from the infection as they can. That would concentrate populations into smaller pockets of land. Hopefully there’s employment opportunities.”
“You gonna get a job, then?”
“Somebody’s gotta take care of my girls,” he said, smiling at Shemika and Lydia.
MCB Camp Lejeune, NC
Two and a half weeks later
Captain Brian Gibby entered the Quonset hut and approached the front of the room. Twenty Marines were seated in front of his presentation wall that was covered with maps and images of Cheyenne Mountain Complex along with various other related photographs.
“Okay, listen up, Marines,” Captain Gibby said to the men as he called their attention. “Washington gave this one to us,” he said, referring to the mission for which he was about to give his briefing. “Twentynine Palms is down; Barstow is down. Bridgeport was evacuated and reassigned to Lejeune. Miramar is down. So, counting Lejeune, Albany, Japan, Hawaii, and Quantico, we have five bases of Marines from which we salvaged the best of the best. That’s where you twenty come in.
“Every base closest to our destination has been compromised, so it’s up to us to get in, rescue a high-value civilian who claims to be clear of infection, and get out. When I finish up with this briefing, we will load up on ammo and weapons and hit the choppers, which are fueled and waiting for us on the parade deck. The destination is the Cheyenne Mountain Complex located in Colorado Springs, Colorado. We are on a time frame, so I must be brief.
“We have limited information on the enemy, but we know a few things that we can exploit if we can keep it together. As many of you know, the enemy is code-named the Rive and carries a blood-borne pathogen that it spreads through bite. If it kills you, you will turn in a matter of moments. If it bites you, you will become sick with fever, you will die, and then you will turn. There are other tidbits of information on the spread of this contagion, but it has no bearing on this op.
“The enemy is likely to be seen either lying on the floor or standing around motionless. Do not mistake this behavior for a siesta, and do not underestimate its dangerousness. It is not asleep, and it is not harmless. It will kill you when it detects your fear.
“The Rive are covering every floor of every building inside the complex. Fortunately for us, we are only maneuvering on the research facility, which is ground zero for NORAD. We are expecting troops to meet us at the front blast door to give us access to the complex. The research facility is located here,” the captain said, pointing to a two-story building on the map of the complex, “and we have no idea which floor our man is on.
“For those of you who have never encountered the Rive, they have a nasty bite, which is its primary means of attack. They run very, very fast and have pronounced strength. If you get into a brawl with one, you will not win without assistance.
“Look at the Devil Dogs sitting to your left and to your right. This is it. These are the Marines that will be by your side once we hit the deck. There will be no fire support. There will be no search and rescue. If we fail our mission, we are alone. The choppers that drop us off will be waiting outside to pick us up when we are done; beyond that, this is a onetime mission that cannot go wrong. There’s no margin for error, Marines.
“The complex is two thousand feet down from the entry point. When we debark the choppers, we will get on a bus that we will drive to this blast door,” Captain Gibby said, pointing to the entry door. “There are thirteen three-story buildings and two two-story buildings down there. Let’s not confuse them with this one.
“Each building is connected with ramps and hallways, so don’t be misguided into thinking that once you’ve cleared the building, it will stay that way. Any number of enemies can re-enter. This is why we are going to place det-charges on every ramp and every hallway that connects to the research facility. We are going to isolate that particular building.
“If we encounter the Rive, there are a couple of ways to stop them. Each of you will be carrying an SMG and a shotgun. The SMGs are for the high rate of fire. Aim for the knees to stop or disable them. The shotguns are fast brutal takedowns. You will be using buckshot, so don’t shoot at too much distance and don’t let them get too close. Severing their spinal cord is another way. If the creatures are not receiving brain signals to their legs, they cannot move. Shoot them here, in the neck, or use your Ka-Bar, if for some reason you enter hand-to-hand proximity, and stick it in any location of the spine to disable it. These moves will not kill the critters, but it will neutralize them.
“If, for some reason, you feel like taking its head off, the body will die, but the head will live on. I cannot urge you enough, do not take risks! There’s a science behind all of this, Marines, but we’re all killers, and these weapons are the tactical way to drop these ghouls.
“There may be civilians on the inside that we are unaware of. We have not received any intel to support this notion. All we have is a single phone call made from an emergency port, and the caller notified us that the complex was overrun and that he was a lone survivor. Washington has placed a high value on this man and made him a top priority. If you encounter a body standing out in the open, it is a threat. If there are any survivors, they will not be found in public places; they will be secured away from the contagion.
“I have Dr. Baker here with me. I am opening the floor for any questions you may have on the Rive or the mission.”
The captain looked around the room and saw a hand raised. Each Marine was wearing a nameplate on their right chest pocket. Reading them as he went along to respond to raised hands, he said, “Sergeant Vasquez, you have the first question.”
“Sir, we’ve been on lockdown for two years. Colorado is near ground zero. Why now? What happened that we have to risk our necks for a single person?”
“Sergeant, nobody made you sign your name on the dotted line. This is what we do. If you don’t like it, there’s the door. We’ll see you when we return,” Captain Gibby said, with eyes that pierced Vasquez’s soul.
Vasquez didn’t leave; he sat there and waited for the next question, quietly hoping someone else would support him in his protest.
“Moving on. Sergeant Fitzgibbons, go ahead.”
“This is for Dr. Baker. If the creature carries a blood-borne pathogen, is it wise to use weapons that expose s
aid blood to the air?”
Dr. Baker stepped to the front of the group, and Captain Gibby gave him the floor. “The Omega virus is what makes the Rive’s blood so deadly. It is so small that it can travel on small pieces of dust and even ride through the air on blood spatter, or on what you may know as ‘pink mist’. If you breathe it in, get it in your eyes, or on an open wound, you will be compromised. This is why you will be wearing the latest in respiratory gear, Kevlar tactical suits, and eye shields. They will not be able to penetrate your Kevlar barrier, but if for some reason they are able to get your respiratory mask or eye shields off, they will go for your face. They smell a cocktail of hormones your body releases when it enters the fight-or-flight response. If you freak out or otherwise respond to a threatening high-stress situation, it will respond.”
Captain Gibby moved back to the front of the group. “Corporal Sullivan, what’s your question?”
“Isn’t there something we can spray over our bodies, some kind of chemical barrier like Off or Raid, to hide our scent?”
The group laughed out loud.
Captain Gibby gave the floor back to Dr. Baker. “We’ve been studying just that thing, but as of now, there’s no known chemical barrier that we’ve been successful with in studies.”
Dr. Baker saw another hand rise. He pointed to the Marine and read his name tag, “Yes, Fleming?”
“I was wondering—these respirators that we’re going to be wearing… what do they protect us against?”
“The respirators are not designed to protect you against chemical attacks, but they will defend against smoke and droplets.”
“Is that it?” Captain Gibby asked. “Okay then. Head over to the loadout and fill your magazines. Everybody gets two Bouncing Betty Mark VIs. Sergeant Early, you’ve got point.”
Fifteen hours later
Five Iroquois helicopters were approaching the landing zone at NORAD’s Cheyenne Mountain Complex. This was the farthest west any of the Marines had been since Yellowstone’s eruption. For each of them, it was the thickest collection of ash they had ever seen. When the Marines disembarked the choppers, they situated their gear and met some military personnel near the front entry point of the base.
“I have to ask…” one of the military personnel that was waiting for them said. “What is so important in there that you would risk exposure?”
“We were wondering the same thing,” Sergeant Vasquez answered.
“There’s nothing in there but death, Sergeant,” the man responded.
“That’s what bothers us,” Vasquez replied.
“Lock it up, Vasquez,” Sergeant Early shouted. “Let’s get our war faces on and do this so we can go home. Fall in,” Sergeant Early shouted.
All the Marines fell into formation so that they could get a head count and do a gear check. When they were sure their numbers were correct and their gear was spot-on, they loaded into old Viet Nam-era military Jeeps and began their descent to the front blast door.
Once there, a man gave them radios and said, “When you’re done, contact us and let us know you’re ready. We’ll be here to open the door. Make sure all threats have been neutralized before you do.”
Sergeant Early nodded to him. It took two men to pull the two-foot-thick solid steel door open. The Marines were stacked against the wall when it swung open, and they moved inside the complex as rapidly as they could.
“Clear,” Sergeant Early shouted to the Marines behind him as he continued to advance. Initially there was no visual sign of anything out of the norm. After moving deeper into the facility, a putrescent smell like rotten flesh could be noticed through their tactical respirators.
As point leader, Sergeant Early made the decision to slow their advance in lieu of the smell that indicated the undead were near. Every member of the team was on extra high alert and each had their weapon of choice firmly planted in their shoulder and were ready for immediate action. Beyond the initial entrance stood a double door with windows and an awning that read “Welcome to Cheyenne Mountain Complex.”
The sight of the underground facility was spectacular. It was reminiscent of a modern society that had been built into the walls of a mountain.
Red emergency lights flashed through the hallways, reflecting off every smooth wall and shiny object, giving the false impression of moving objects. The lights had the Marines on edge, causing them to rapidly swing their rifles and shotguns from point to point as they moved along, only to find that there was nothing moving. That false impression changed when they turned the corner to face their objective.
The building was labeled “Scientific Research” and had “CDC” on the sign in a different font as if it was added later. The door of the building had a window, and there appeared to be a person standing on the other side of it with his, or her, back turned to it.
Sergeant Early stopped the platoon-sized unit and used a hand signal to communicate to the Marines behind him that there was a possible enemy combatant, or in this case, an undead target. Two Marines moved forward and grabbed the door handles and waited for Sergeant Early to give the word. Using his hand, he counted down from three. When he reached zero, the doors were pulled open, and a gush of air poured out of the building followed by the stench of the undead that quickly filled their masks.
The creature stood there, partially disemboweled with its parts stretched from its gut to the floor. It seemed undisturbed by their presence and seemingly unaware that the men behind it were moving into a position to destroy it. Two more Marines moved forward and positioned themselves with their shotguns pointed at the creature’s knees. Again, Sergeant Early counted down from three until he reached zero. The Marines simultaneously pulled their triggers and dropped the monster to the ground. It landed face up but was not reacting to pain or sound. Its jaw was grinding and its eyes were darting around in its skull.
“Let’s move,” Sergeant Early said.
One by one the Marines stepped over the creature as they continued to make their way deeper into the building. The last Marine was looking backward providing rear security when he accidentally tripped over the undead. It made a guttural sound when he fell backwards over it.
The entire team stopped dead in their tracks, startled by the sudden noise the Marine had made. The incident sparked a chain of events beginning with a loud scream by the undead Rive. The scream was followed by a sudden and unexpected thrashing about on the floor as it tried to reach for the Marine that had already picked himself up off the ground.
“Somebody shut that thing up,” Vasquez called out from near the front of the line.
The second-to-last Marine in the line shot the creature in the mouth while it was screaming. The buckshot opened a hole in the back of its head, severing the spine at the base of the cranium. The creature stopped screaming, but its eyes continued to bounce around with no apparent rhyme or reason.
“Look at its eyes,” another Marine said, intrigued by the soulless white glossy appearance.
“Let’s keep moving,” Sergeant Early said.
When the Marines reached the end of the hall, they entered a larger stem area that connected to other hallways that led to other buildings. In the center was a control point surrounded by glass. The door was open and there were no people inside. There were bloodstains and brass casings all over the floor. Bullet holes littered the walls outside the control center.
A few feet away, towards a hallway labeled “Decontamination/Laboratory,” stood a Rive dressed in tactical gear. The door was secured, but the Rive stood there standing at the door as if it were waiting. It was wearing a helmet, but there was no face shield. The face of the Rive was partially gone, and the rest was badly decomposed. It was obvious that this man had died a slow death after his face had been eaten off.
The sight was enough to alert the Rive that prey was near. It let out a shriek and began its run toward the team. The scream was followed by several more screams from a separate hallway. While the Marine took aim and blew the kne
ecaps off the first Rive, a horde of about a dozen came running out of the narrow corridor, tripping over themselves as they did. The battle-hardened fighters aimed their weapons at the throng about knee high.
“Focus your fire on their knees,” Sergeant Early said. The move was effective, but not effective enough. Though they sustained heavy damage, the Rive continued their advance.
“Early,” Fitzgibbons called out as he shot his SMG into the advancing Rive.
“Yeah?” he answered.
“These buildings are connected, right?”
“That’s right.”
“Let’s head for that laboratory.”
“Let’s hold it here and finish these things off,” he said.
The horde had reached some of the Marines, and they were fearsomely defending themselves, but were grossly overpowered once they were within arm’s reach.
The screaming continued as the group of twelve shrank to a group of four that were still actively attacking the Marines. The rest were on their abdomens or on their backs, but they continued to grab at the men as they gave a small retreat to open the gap between them. No sooner than they thought they had the Rive under control, a loud echo of shrieks could be heard coming from another building. The Marines turned towards the sound and looked across the expanse to a red flashing hallway with the shadows of dozens more Rive responding to the screams of the Rive that they had already neutralized.
“Okay, the laboratory it is,” Sergeant Early said, caving into Fitzgibbons’s request.
Vasquez threw out a Bouncing Betty proximity mine as the rest of the Marines retreated to the laboratory door. The front Marine grabbed the door, but it was secured.
“It’s locked,” he called out.
“The control center,” Early replied, seeing the panel of buttons.
“We’re out of time,” another called out.
Sergeant Early ran for the control center and diligently searched for the laboratory access buttons. He was joined by Vasquez, who spotted the button and pressed it. The first door opened just as the Rive exited the far corridor and ran out into the open area that the Marines were previously fighting in, and tripped the Bouncing Betty. It made a popping sound then zipped up into the air about knee high and exploded, dropping several Rive to the ground, where they continued to pull themselves along the floor by their arms.
No Light Beyond Page 18
