The Dying of the Light: Interval

by Kristopher, Jason

  A short time later, Lopez returned to the breakroom. “I’ve got something, sir, but you’re not going to like it,” he said.

  Shaw sighed. “Of course not. It couldn’t be good news, could it? For once? Just a slight chance?”

  Lopez shook his head. “Not even a little good news, sir. I did find a terminal map in one of the offices that shows the non-public spaces, and I went upstairs to take a look.”

  “And you found…”

  “Do you want the bad news or the worse news?”

  “Why fuck around? Give me the worst.”

  “Yes, sir. I found on the map where the refuel station is. It’s about half a klick away, and the whole building is destroyed. Or at least, it appears that way from here. It’s burned out, a hollow shell, sir. The tanks themselves appear OK, but we have no way to get to the fuel inside. Not without a lot of work, anyway. Which means we have no way to refuel. We could make it back, but we’d just be in the same boat.”

  Shaw sat down on one of the chairs. Head in his hands, he rubbed his face and looked over at Lopez, motioning for him to take a seat. “And? The bad news?”

  “The water’s off, and there’s no food left that I could find in my quick sortie. The power’s been out for a long time, and everything has long since rotted. It’s been so long, I wouldn’t even trust cans, necessarily, sir.”

  “Did you find any cans?”

  “Well, no.”

  “Then we don’t need to worry about that, do we?”

  “I suppose not.”

  “Arturo!” Shaw shouted, calling in the volunteer leader from the corridor outside, where everyone had spread out. As the man entered, Shaw pointed to another chair. “Grab that and have a seat. You’re the civ head, so we’ll need you in on this discussion. Lopez, tell him what you told me.”

  As Arturo heard Lopez’s dutiful recitation of the current state of affairs, his face proclaimed the despair he felt at the words. “I… I have no words, Major.”

  “Well, I need some from you, Art. How’s our supply situation from your end?”

  The Argentinian shook himself and focused. “Not much better, really. Only three of our people thought to grab bags with food or water. The rest brought whatever was closest to them, which, as it turns out, is survival gear, such as sleeping bags, ponchos, maps of Christchurch, etc. Nothing that will be useful in here,” he said, gesturing to the ceiling of the room. “Almost all outdoor equipment. We also found these.”

  Arturo handed both Shaw and Lopez a small two-way radio. “I’ve already given one to the other two men, and kept one for myself. We have one charger, but these were already charged. They’re all set to the same channel, and I tested them to make sure they work.”

  “Well, at least there’s some good news. And what’s the state of the volunteers?”

  “We’re all hungry, Major, and more than a little frightened. We didn’t expect anyone… well, anyone normal, anyway… to be here when we landed. We all expected some walkers, but thought you military folks would take care of them and then we’d have some breathing room to get ourselves situated. As it is, none of us know what’s going to happen now, especially with those crazies running around.”

  “Any immediate concerns I should be aware of?”

  “Well, one or two have talked about leaving the terminal and going into the city proper to look for more supplies or help. I’ve tried to dissuade them, told them it was a bad idea and there was obviously no help coming from there, but they’re determined.”

  “I see. Anything else?”

  Arturo hesitated, then shook his head. “No, that’s the only thing I can think of. We’ll be fine if we have a clear direction, a clear goal to work toward.”

  “I’m working on that. Thanks for your input. Get what supplies you can together in as few packs as possible. Grab anything that might be useful from the nearby area but don’t go wandering off.”

  “All right. What about the bathrooms? Some of our people need to…”

  “No, I understand. Lopez, you know this place best. Round up the ones who need to go, and escort them. Radio back at the first sign of trouble, and don’t take any chances.”

  “Yes, sir. The closest restrooms aren’t too far. Mr. Onevás, you’re with me,” Lopez said, escorting the older scientist out of the room.

  Shaw stood and moved out into the corridor, taking care to make some noise as he approached Evans, who was guarding the hallway from thirty yards down the hallway. “How’s it look, Mr. Evans? Anything?”

  “I’ve seen a couple shadows moving quickly down there, sir, near the escalators.” Evans pointed, but his eyes must have adjusted to the gloom inside the boarded-up terminal better than Shaw’s had, because the major couldn’t see a damn thing.

  “I’ll take your word for it, son. Walkers?”

  “No, sir, not unless these walkers are a lot faster than the ones outside, sir. I’d say it’s the crazies, looking to find out more about us but too scared to approach.”

  “Very well, keep an eye out, and if they get too close, let me know.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Shaw stepped away, looking at the long hallway lined with volunteers on both sides, talking in quiet groups. Lopez was leading a group of four or five down a cross-hallway, where Keith had taken up a guard. All of the other volunteers were agitated, as Onevás had told him.

  “OK, folks, let’s just calm down. We’re safe in here, for the moment, and we have at least a few days of supplies. We’re working on a plan—”

  “A plan for what?” said one of the men. “We’re dead already. Look at those poor bastards who came out to the plane—”

  “That’s enough!” Shaw said, his loud voice echoing off the wall. “Are you infected? No. Are you starving? No. So stop dwelling on what might happen and get ready. Arturo’s already given you your instructions.” He nodded at the scientist. “We’re going to be fine, but we need to get our bearings, first. We’ll find a safer, more defensible location and then I’ll decide what to do. We will stay alive, I can promise you that, but I can’t do it alone. I need each of you to help us all make it through this.” As he spoke, the volunteers gained strength from his words, and looked less scared, if only a little.

  I’ll take what I can get, he thought.

  “I want everyone to be ready to move out when Lopez comes back from the bathrooms.” The voice of command he was used to using on his flight deck worked here, too, as people began working together to follow his orders.

  “Major, I did think you should have this,” said Arturo, handing Shaw a rifle. An M-4, it was one of only a handful of rifles stored at McMurdo, all of which had been sent with the expedition. “It’s the only one that made it off the plane. We found several clips, I think you call them, too.” He handed those to Shaw as well, who distributed them amongst the pockets of his flight suit.

  “Well done, Arturo. This will help.”

  “I thought it might.”

  “How long until your people are ready to move?”

  “Give us ten more minutes, and we’ll be ready.”

  “Roger that,” said Shaw, walking back into the breakroom and looking over the map that Lopez had left. Their current spot wasn’t good, at all. At the end of the terminal, they were bottled up and subject to anyone that came down the long stretch from the main building. They needed to get into the main area, but there was just one problem: the crazies.

  He wasn’t sure how long he’d been standing there, looking at the map, when a voice came over his radio. “Sir, I have some movement,” said Keith.

  “Roger that, on my way.” It only took a few moments for him to arrive at the chief’s position, and Shaw readied his rifle as he approached. “Coming up on your right, Chief.”

  “Yes, sir. I thought I saw something over there,” Keith said, pointing into the darkness.

  Shaw squinted, but still couldn’t see anything. “I wish Arturo had managed to find a flashlight.”

  “He d
idn’t give you one, sir?” asked Keith, pulling a small flashlight from a pouch on his flight suit and handing it to Shaw.

  “No,” he said, annoyed. “Must’ve slipped his mind.” Turning on the flashlight, he pointed it the direction Keith had indicated, and then nearly dropped it at what he saw. A corpse, not fifteen feet away, nearly invisible in the darkness. A corpse with fresh blood, and an Air Force flight suit.

  Keith swore.

  “Stay here,” Shaw said.

  Moving forward, his rifle at the ready, he approached the body on the ground, lying on its stomach, still and lifeless. Shaw prodded the form with his foot, and when there was no response, knelt to turn the body over, flinching back at what he found.

  Lopez had not died an easy death. His throat was gone, showing why he hadn’t called for help, and he was covered with bite marks. His flight suit was torn, one arm of the fabric ripped away to expose several deep wounds on his forearm, and a missing finger that appeared to have been torn off somehow.

  Shaw snapped his gun up, the flashlight alongside, and swept the darkness. He didn’t see anything at first, but kept moving the light back and forth slowly as he retreated toward Keith’s position. Handing the chief the flashlight, he reached for his radio.

  “Evans, fall back to the breakroom and get everyone inside. Lopez is down; walkers got him.”

  “Roger, falling back,” came the reply from Evans.

  “Are you sure it was walkers, Major?” asked the chief.

  Shaw’s first inclination was to retort with some snappy comeback, but instead, he took a deep breath and answered, “Yeah. And now we have a problem—.”

  “You mean we can’t leave him there, and we have to see if there are any survivors of the folks he took.”

  Shaw grunted. “How’d you get to be so smart?”

  “I stayed enlisted, sir. Got to keep all my brains. I’m ready whenever you are, sir.”

  Shaw nodded. “Let’s go.” He rotated the flashlight’s head so he could leave it in his upper pocket with the beam pointed straight forward, then slung the rifle on his back and drew his pistol. The chief glanced at him, and Shaw just shrugged. “Close quarters. Pistols are better.”

  The chief nodded and moved forward, slowly, straight ahead. When they arrived at the body, he put the barrel of his pistol to Lopez’s head, and fired once, careful to keep the bullet, and the spray of blood and bone, away from the major. Then he snagged the man’s radio from his pocket, along with Lopez’s pistol and extra magazine. “Waste not, want not,” he mumbled, and Shaw said nothing. The chief was right.

  He deserved better than this.

  “Look, there’s a trail,” he said, pointing and shining his flashlight. “Damn, looks like Lopez must’ve dragged himself this far.” The trail of blood led back into the darkness and around a blind corner.

  “He was a tough bastard, all right,” said Keith. “I remember once—” The chief broke off as Shaw raise a finger to his lips, and signaled that there were two enemies ahead. Keith got ready, and as they moved forward, he could see two walkers feasting on one of the unfortunate volunteers. Shaw signaled he’d take the one on the right, and counted down. The two men lined up their shots and fired as one. There was a moan from up ahead, and another walker shambled into the light of Shaw’s flashlight. Another gunshot, and he was down.

  They waited for more, Shaw scanning the darkness with his light and both trying to listen for shuffling footsteps over the pounding of their hearts. Nothing. Shaw motioned for them to continue on, and as they turned the corner, they saw the blood trail leading back to the restrooms nearby. Keith turned and vomited quietly to one side, unable to control his roiling stomach. The stench alone nearly knocked Shaw over, and he just barely held onto his lunch.

  Christ, what a mess, he thought as he looked at the scene. All of them, dead. He looked over at Keith, who nodded and signaled he was ready to move. Deal with it, flyboy. Time to do your job.

  “They are all dead?” said Arturo, as everyone stood, crowded into the breakroom, with Evans standing guard.

  Shaw leaned against the counter on one side of the room. “Yes. It appears that there were at least four or five walkers in the bathrooms, and they surprised the group. Lopez managed to take out two of them, but the others attacked him, and then when he went down…”

  “Why didn’t we hear any screams?” asked one of the women.

  “They were attacked inside the bathrooms, around a corner and down a hallway. I can only guess that the acoustics didn’t carry to us here. I’m sure there was screaming, but…” Shaw trailed off, trying not to think of what he’d seen, and unable to see anything else when he closed his eyes.

  Where’s a therapist when you need one?

  No one said anything then, realizing that there was really nothing to say. Six people they had lived with, had worked with for four years, were gone. Just like that, in the blink of an eye.

  It would be hell to take in normal circumstances, Shaw thought. But now, when our supplies are out of reach, not to mention our only exit… Who knows what this could do to them?

  “Sir, I’ve got something,” said Evans. “One target, thirty yards.”

  “BOHICA,” whispered Shaw, and moved to the doorway. Behind him, he heard Keith explaining the acronym to one of the volunteers.

  “Bend Over, Here It Comes Again,” Keith whispered.

  “What’ve you got, Mark?” said Shaw, looking down the hallway. He could barely make out a form coming down the hall with slow, shuffling steps.

  “Appears human, sir,” said Evans. “I can’t see any wounds or decomp.”

  “Got it. Cover me.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Shaw unslung his rifle, and holding it ready, moved out into the corridor, shining his flashlight on the approaching man. The man was old, probably in his late fifties, and stooped a little bit with age. Shaw saw sunken cheeks, yellowed skin, and a nasty limp as he looked the man over, but there weren’t any signs that he was a walker.

  “All right, sir, stop right there, please.”

  The man slowed and stopped, raising his hands in the universal sign for “Don’t shoot!” As he straightened, he began hacking and coughing. At the moment, Shaw couldn’t have cared less about the man’s health.

  “Please…” said the old man, coughing again. “I mean you no harm.”

  “Funny, doesn’t seem like it. Why don’t you tell Fraser that?”

  The old man looked confused. “Fraser?”

  “He’s the man you people shot in the back while he was protecting everyone! We had to…” Shaw broke off, swallowing hard. “We had to leave him for the walkers, damn you!”

  The man bowed his head, and Shaw could just see his lips moving. Praying? That’d be a stretch.

  “I am truly sorry for your loss. I have asked God to take him into his everlasting light, and grant him peace. He was not killed from meanness, or spite, but simply from fear. It was… an accident.”

  Shaw did his best to calm down, knowing that killing this man or his followers wouldn’t bring back Fraser or do anyone any good. “I’ll make sure to tell that to his wife, when I see her.”

  A pained expression crossed the old man’s face. “Again, I am sorry. Would that I could bring him back to her, but alas, I cannot. I am Liam, head of the Believers.”

  “Major Bill Shaw, US Air Force.”

  “We welcome you to the Sanctuary, Major. You and your flock.”

  Shaw couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Uh, thanks, I guess. How many of you ‘Believers’ are there?”

  Liam frowned. “Only twenty of our number remain, sadly. The rest have fallen to the Darkness.”

  “The Darkness? You mean, the walkers?”

  “If that is what you call them, then yes. But the darkness grows even in ourselves, and must be purged.”

  “The darkness grows… you mean some of you are infected?”

  “It is not for me to say how the Darkness works, but
I am here to welcome you to join our group in the Sanctuary.”

  “Are there any more… uh, darkness… around here?”

  “Only in the restrooms, there. The purged ones were sent into that place.”

  Shaw fumed. “Yeah, we found them. They’re dead.”

  Liam bowed his head once more, praying again. Shaw had lost his patience, though. “Where are the rest of the Believers?”

  “In the main Sanctuary. If you’ll follow me…”

  “Wait here. I’ll talk it over with my ‘flock.’”

  “As you wish.”

  Shaw backed up, then turned to Evans. “He moves this way, give him a warning shot, then shoot him if he keeps coming.” Evans nodded, and Shaw went into the breakroom and found Arturo, who was somewhat less than sanguine about joining the group that had caused them so many problems already.

  “They have caused the death of your Mr. Fraser, Major. Why would you join them?”

  “I think they’ve been here for quite some time, so they’ll know the layout, what’s around here, where it’s safe, etc. Besides, a bigger group is safer than a smaller one, and gives us more options.”

  “I fear these options you insist on having may prove our downfall. But very well, if you think it best, I will agree.”

  “Good,” said Shaw, turning to face the room. “Everyone, prepare to move out. We’re going to be joining the others in the main terminal.” There were some raised voices, but Arturo calmed them with some hushed and quiet conversations. When Shaw moved back out into the hall, everyone was ready. “OK, Evans, you’re right flank, Keith, you’re left. Both of you keep an eye on the rear, and I’ll take point. Stay close, keep it tight, and we’ll make it. Any questions?”

  There were none, and Shaw approached Liam. “Well, Mr. Liam, we’re ready to go with you.”

  The old man brightened considerably. “This way.”

  The large group made their way down the terminal, spears of light from cracks and spaces in the boards covering the windows shed just enough light to see by, with the aid of their flashlights. Shaw and his men kept their eyes open, but as Liam had said, there were no walkers on their way.