by JE Gurley
“Take them back inside and tie them up.” He looked around the make certain no one had witnessed their coup, hoping no one would miss the guards for a while. Inside, he raced down the rows of comatose patients searching for Karen. When he reached the end of the last row, he knew she was not there. Disappointed, but not defeated, he said, “Try to wake them up.” To Renda, he added, “Keep them inside. I’m going to have a look around. If I’m not back in an hour. . .”
Renda kissed his cheek. “Good luck, Jeb.”
Back outside, Jeb tried to act like a soldier. He passed several other soldiers, who paid no attention to him. His breath tightened when he saw a building with a red cross on its side and a sign reading, “Base Infirmary” on the door. To his relief, there were no guards, just two nurses and a doctor. As he passed a desk, he picked up a sheet of paper and confronted the doctor.
“I’m here to check up on the munies, particularly the woman named Stone.”
The doctor, a thin, white-haired man in his 60s, set aside a syringe and stared at Jeb. “What condition do you expect them to be in?” he said gruffly. “You keep them sedated for months and force-bleed them like some medieval physician. They’re weak and barely alive. Now, leave me alone and let me keep them alive.”
Jeb immediately liked the doctor, but he had no time to make friends. He pulled out his .45. “Show me the Stone woman right now.” He pointed the gun at the nurses and waved the barrel. “You two sit down and stay quiet.”
“Who are you?” the doctor demanded, ignoring the threat of the pistol.
“Jeb Stone,” he said.
The doctor’s face twitched. “I see. Do you really think you can get her out of here?”
“I intend to try.”
He smiled. “Good.” He looked at the two nurses. “Then we’ll help you. We are as much prisoner here as these patients.”
Jeb wasn’t sure how far he could trust them, but knew he could not bring himself to kill them to keep them quiet. “All right,” he said, “But I warn you, we’re going to get as many out as we can.”
“How?”
“Trucks, boats – I don’t know. My friends are dealing with that aspect of the breakout. Where is she?”
When Jeb followed the doctor into the room and his eyes fell on Karen, his heart nearly burst. Beautiful, robust Karen was thin, frail and ghostly pale. Always slim, she had lost thirty pounds. She looked like a child lying nestled in the bed. He reached for her hand. It was cold, almost lifeless. Only the slow movement of her chest showed him she was still alive.
His words caught in his throat as he asked, “Can we move her?”
“If we must,” the doctor said. “These four,” he pointed to three men and a woman who were almost skeletal, like Holocaust victims, “have only days to live, if that. It will serve no purpose to bring them.”
That left Karen and one other woman. Jeb wanted to carry her in his arms, but that would look suspicious and he would not be able to fire his M16 if necessary. “Do you have two wheelchairs?”
When the nurses brought in two wheelchairs, Jeb carefully lifted Karen from the bed, sickened by how light she felt in his arms, and sat her in one of the chairs. The doctor and nurse saw to the other woman.
“Act as though we’re delivering them to the barracks,” he warned.
Outside, he marched along behind them, praying they encountered no one that questioned their authority to move prisoners, but that would have been too much to hope for. As they neared the barracks, a civilian man approached them scowling.
“Where are you going with these people?” he looked at the doctor. “Can’t you see they’re in no condition to move?”
“Orders,” Jeb replied, lifting his weapon higher.
The man ignored the threat. “You bastards make me sick with your God damned Judgment Day Protocol. Maybe it would be better if we all died.”
The irate man refused to budge. Finally, Jeb pointed his rifle at him. “Look, maybe you don’t like all this, but if you don’t get out of my way, I’ll shoot you.”
The man stared at him a moment and laughed. “No you won’t. You’re not one of the soldiers. Who the hell are you?”
“This is my wife and I’m talking her out of here. Along with as many of the others as I can. And I will shoot you if I have to.”
He looked at the doctor and nurses. “You’re going along with this?”
They nodded.
“In that case, I’ll help you. I’ve got no reason to stay here, and saving a few lives might be worth the risk. The name’s Elliott Samuels.”
“No time to shake your hand, Elliot,” Jeb replied. “If you mean what you said, come with us.”
As they reached the barracks, Renda’s eyes widened when she peeked out the door and saw the strangers.
“Friends,” Jeb said.
She lowered her pistol and did not argue. Jeb counted heads. With the thirteen not attached to the blood pumps, there were now twenty-one of them. Of the comatose patients, only six or seven showed signs of movement. Jeb didn’t want to leave anyone behind, but knew from the start that he might have to make just such a decision.
“We have another hour before we find out if Mace and Vince managed their end of the plan.” He hoped a few more patients revived by then. They could manage to extract only the walking and those they could carry. “Check the stock room. Bring me all the alcohol and anything else that will burn with you.”
Renda looked at him with a questioning stare.
“It’s for a signal fire,” he explained. “Get everyone ready. I have a feeling we’ll need to move fast.”
* * * *
With the promise of a bottle of tequila and some pot, Vince convinced two soldiers to allow him to go to the Humvee. To his dismay, one insisted on accompanying him. Vince thought his eagerness was more for a chance at the first swig of tequila than to watch him. He rummaged under the seat and pulled out the tequila. As the soldier smiled and reached for the bottle, Vince swung it into the side of the soldier’s head. He didn’t check to see if he had killed the soldier. He didn’t care. He knew he would kill more before the night was over. He dragged the body behind a stack of crates and drove the Humvee to the barracks assigned to them. Mace was standing outside smoking a cigarette. He stepped around the side of the building out of the view of the others. Vince followed him. As Mace jumped in, he slipped into the gun turret and manned the M60. So far, no one had noticed his and Mace’s absence. Vince was sure their luck would not hold.
He had not seen the direction Renda and Jeb had been taken, a real flaw in their plan, but knew Jeb would find a way to disclose his location when he was ready. First, they needed a way off the base. His first idea of stealing trucks would not work. The bridge was too well guarded. They wouldn’t make it halfway across. A boat seemed the best option. Driving to the dock, he spotted a small patrol boat tied up to the dock with a single guard posted on the dock. If they managed to take the boat and get well away before their absence was discovered, they stood a chance of reaching shore. Point Loma was just across the bay, or if their luck held, they could head further north along the coast. He failed to notice the jeep approaching, until its lights flashed on the Humvee.
“What do we do?” Mace called out from behind the M60.
Their options were gone. They could never explain what they were doing. “Shoot the bastards.”
The sound of the big M60 cutting loose sealed the deal. The lights died and the jeep swerved into a palm tree. Both men inside were dead. They had just a few minutes to locate Jeb and Renda, and make their escape.
* * * *
At the sound of a machine gun firing near the shore, Renda smiled. “That’s Mace.”
“Time to go,” Jeb called out.
Altogether, they had twenty-one people able to walk and seven more in wheelchairs or people to carry them. They had one M16, two .45s, and their two derringers – not a large arsenal. While waiting, he had soaked a pile of bed linen with alcoho
l and white lithium grease from the storage room. He ferried it to the gate, added rubber tubing, latex gloves and set it afire. The blue alcohol flames quickly spread and ignited the grease. The latex and rubber shot black smoke into the air. Their immediate problem was that others could see the flames as well.
“We can’t wait here for them. They might not bring enough transportation. We’ll head toward the sound of gunfire and meet them. We might not have much time.”
Herding the frightened people along was difficult. Every sound sent them scurrying for cover. Jeb was afraid some of them would bolt and become lost. He saw the Humvee approaching and felt a moment of relief. However, it was short lived when he saw both Mace and Vince in the Humvee.
“Where’s the truck?” he yelled as Vince pulled up.
Vince looked at the crowd. “Where the hell did you get all these people?” He shook his head. “A truck won’t work. We found a boat. You’ll have to run for it. It’s about half a mile.”
Jeb was dumbfounded. “Half a mile? Some of these people can barely walk.” In the distance, the ominous warning of a siren broke the night. “That tears it,” he grumbled.
One of the men in the group stepped forward. “Can we use a helicopter?” he asked.
Jeb stared at him. “A helicopter? Can you fly a chopper?”
“Yes. There are two Mi-17s nearby. I think I can fly one. I flew an Apache in Afghanistan.”
Mace was passing out extra M16s and Ak47s to everyone. He stopped what he was doing and looked at Jeb. “Hell, a chopper beats a boat. Let’s try it.”
“Whatever we do, we had better do it now. Company’s coming.”
Around the base, the sound of cranking engines cut through the siren. Searchlights began to flash on from towers.
Jeb looked at the pilot. “Go with them. Rev it up and land here. We’ll never all make it.” When he hesitated, Jeb yelled, “Go!”
He hopped in the Humvee. Mace looked as if he were going to protest. Renda blew him a kiss. “See you later,” he yelled. The he tossed her the other M7 LAWS rocket.
As the Humvee drove away, he could hear the fear in the people’s mumbling. “Find cover,” he yelled at them to shake them up. “We may have to put up a fight.”
Samuels said, “I have an errand to run.”
Jeb didn’t know Samuels; didn’t know if he could trust him. “Errand? What kind of errand?”
“A few friends. The Mi-17 holds thirty. A few more won’t matter.”
He stared at Samuels. Something in the man’s manner told Jeb, he would not take no for an answer. “If you’re not back in time, we’re not waiting.”
Samuels nodded and disappeared into the night.
“Where’s he going?” Renda questioned.
“Picking up some sandwiches for the trip. I told him you preferred rye bread. Is that okay?”
She stared at Jeb for a moment before turning away. He could not hear what she said under her breath, but he could well imagine it was not complimentary. As he feared, less than five minutes later, two jeeps and a M113 armored personnel carrier approached. The twelve-ton carrier had an M2 Browning machine gun mounted in front. Behind them, he saw the silhouettes of a score or more soldiers. They were declaring war. Renda settled the LAWS rocket on her shoulder.
“Wait,” he cautioned.
When the personnel carrier was less than fifty yards away, she fired. The rocket struck the carrier just inside the right track beneath the chassis, exploding like a roadside IED, lifting the front of the twelve-ton vehicle off the ground. The right track unfurled, spinning the carrier to the right. Soldiers flew from it like shrapnel. This slowed their advance. The remainder assumed they were up against a well-armed force and fanned out. Small arms fire began to ping off the asphalt and the brick wall behind which Jeb and the others had sought cover. He fired an occasional volley to keep the army from rushing them. He knew that if Mace and Vince didn’t return very soon, their short burst of freedom was finished. He had no doubts as to what would happen to him and Renda.
27
When she heard the first shots, Erin’s immediate thought was of Susan. Whatever was happening, Susan was alone on the beach. As she rushed out the door, she ran into Samuels.
“What’s happening?”
“We’re getting out of here,” he replied. Before she could question him, he said, “Go get as much of the vaccine as you can carry.”
Erin was stunned by his order. “It’s locked.”
He handed her an M16. “Shoot the lock off. I’ll go for the others.”
“Susan’s on the beach,” she called out as he ran off. She didn’t know if he had heard her.
The sound of heavier weapons in the distance frightened her. Whatever was happening, Samuels thought they could escape in the confusion. He was right about the vaccine. They would need it to survive. If it lasted three months, they would each need three doses a year. She was not familiar with the M16 and it took a couple of tries before she discovered the safety, but a short burst from it shattered the lock on the freezer door. She placed six trays of serum, sixty vials, enough for twenty people for a year, in a portable cooler and slipped it over her shoulder. The heavy battery operated case was cumbersome. On the way out, she stopped to download the research notes onto a disk and shoved it in her pocket.
Outside, she didn’t know what to do and waited. A few minutes later, figures appeared from the shadows. To her relief, among them was Samuels, and Susan, who was wearing a bikini. Dave Cuthbert, Ang Lee, Charles Bemis and Kevin Houseman were with her. She did not see Mike Jenson, one of the younger technicians.
“Where’s Mike?” she called out.
“I don’t know,” Susan answered, almost out of breath. “We were on the beach when the sirens went off. I ran back to the house. Mike didn’t follow.”
“We can’t wait,” Samuels said. He took the heavy case from her.
She nodded, but she was distressed about Jenson.
“Follow me,” he said.
Erin was a little leery, when he headed toward the gunfire and explosions, instead of away from it. She could see soldiers firing at others behind a brick wall. The wreckage of a tracked vehicle sat burning in the road. When a helicopter like the one that whisked them from the mountaintop in Colorado flew into view, she thought it was all over. To her surprise, the helicopter fired two rockets into the massed soldiers, exploding one of the jeeps and killing several men. When a machine gun opened up on them, the rest retreated. The helicopter landed in the road. Men and women rushed out from behind the wall, some carried by others or pushed in wheelchairs. Her group joined them.
A man looked at Samuels and smiled. “You made it. Who are your friends?”
“The people who just might solve the zombie problem.”
The man whistled. “Then let’s get the hell out of here.”
The helicopter was crowded, probably overloaded, but the pilot managed to get it airborne. Below them, shots rang out, but none found the helicopter. The pilot hugged the ground, almost leaping over buildings. He made one pass over a second helicopter parked on the helicopter pad and fired a rocket. The helicopter exploded, scattering flaming wreckage across the pad.
Below them, Erin watched the choppy dark waters of San Diego Harbor breaking alarmingly close to the bottom of the helicopter. They followed the beach of Point Loma north and turned east.
“Where are we going?” she shouted into Samuels’ ear to be heard above the noise of the engine.
“Arizona.”
His answer surprised her. She had expected them to head for Mexico or somewhere out of the country.
“Yes. Tucson. Mace says they have just the place for us to hide out, Biosphere2.”
Of course, she had heard of the glass-enclosed research domes, but it did not seem the ideal place to go.
“Why there,” she asked.
A woman leaned over and said, “Because my garden needs tending to.”
To Erin, it oddly seemed reas
on enough.
28
The ride from San Diego was harrowing. The helicopter became a cloud’s shadow, hugging the ground so close that Erin could have reached out and plucked a flower from the top of a giant saguaro, if she could have seen it in the moonless darkness. With every sudden movement, she expected to crash into one of the surrounding mountains they skimmed. The pilot was either experienced or lucky.
They arrived at Biosphere2 at dawn. The sun glaring off the glass structure gave it an ethereal appearance, like a fairyland castle. She expected to see unicorns grazing in the fields and gryphons flying in formation around it. She had never seen anything so beautiful.
“Quite an eyeful, isn’t it?” The man she now knew as Jeb asked.
“Beautiful,” she agreed.
“Just wait until you see the inside.”
“Is it safe?”
Jeb smiled. “It will be.” He pointed to the cases of weapons and ammunition they had made a detour to pick up from a farmhouse outside Yuma.
It would be good to feel safe again, she thought.
The pilot landed the helicopter expertly in an open space beside the largest dome. She helped ferry the weakest passengers, noticing how lovingly Jeb carried his very weak wife in his arms. He had informed her earlier that the entire journey to California had been to find and free her. She wondered if anyone was capable of caring that deeply for a woman. His love and dedication had inadvertently freed her of her obligation to do a job she saw as inhuman. Her team was safe. She worried about Mike Jensen, but he was young and quite capable of taking care of himself. He would probably continue his work with Lucas and the others.
Inside, the dome was a wonderland.
The man called Mace, with his arm around Renda, saw her admiring the dome. “We’ll have to locate some beds and linens, and raid a warehouse or store for food, but the garden will be ready soon and can feed an army.”
An army, she thought as she looked at the thirty-odd souls who would now call this crystal palace in the desert their home. “Yes, we’ll have to become an army won’t we? That’s what the weapons are for.”
