“What the fuck is this?” asked Cale.
“Not sure. A cache? A bunker?” he proposed. “We should leave.”
“Wait,” Cale replied. “I don’t think it’s military. I think it’s civilian.”
“Why is that?” inquired Curtis.
“The jumpsuit,” he nodded toward the corpse pinned by the truck. “It’s not a military uniform.”
“I don’t know,” Curtis reluctantly stated.
“I’m…I’m going to go down there,” volunteered Cale.
Chapter 4
PRIVATELY OWNED
“Wait,” Curtis stopped him. “You can’t go down by yourself.”
The staff sergeant waved the rest of the squad forward. Soon they all stood around the opening in the ground.
“What is this?” asked Huffman.
“Not sure,” Cale answered. “That’s why we’re going down there.”
Ballard laughed. “You’re joking, right sergeant?”
“No,” SSG Curtis added. “No he’s not.”
Everyone looked uneasy.
“Look. There is no way we’ll make it to the town before sundown,” Curtis said as he pointed to the sun. “We’re already out of time. Now I don’t like this idea either, but the sergeant here is convinced it’s our only choice. And I’m inclined to agree with him. Sergeant, Tomes, and Ballard, we’re going in. Everyone else, you’re staying up here.”
“I don’t even have a weapon,” Tomes objected.
“That’s fine,” Curtis retorted. “You can hold the light.”
Curtis produced a lighter from his breast pocket. He traced the engraving on it with his thumb. It bore his name. Well, actually it was his grandfather’s name, as well as his father’s, and his. All three generations of them had the same name: “Whitney Christopher Curtis.” In his hand he held a lot of history. History he handed over to Tomes.
“Staff sergeant?” Tomes asked.
“Don’t burn your fingers,” Curtis chuckled.
Cale turned away so Tomes wouldn’t see his smirk.
“Stack up,” Curtis ordered. “Cale. When you’re ready.”
“Roger,” Cale said, before checking his magazine.
After ensuring he had plenty of rounds, he loaded it back into the magazine port. The first step caused a rush of excitement. Behind him Tomes followed closely clutching the lighter. The stairs were covered in water stains. Leaves were piled on the landing below. It was apparent that a few animals had taken refuge here. Their musk was heavy in the air. Tomes lit the lighter after a couple of tries. Cale could see that the door to the right was slightly ajar. Not far enough to be open but not closed either.
“It’s open,” he whispered back.
Tomes whispered the update back to Curtis and Ballard. Cale, while still holding his weapon up, used his left hand to push open the door. He’d underestimated how heavy it was. Slowly he forced the door open and stepped into the darkness. Tomes followed him in with the light. The feeble flame did its best to pierce the darkness. The air was musty and stale. All four men filed in. There was a door to the right that had a Red Cross symbol on it. Cale nodded to the door.
“Is it open?” whispered Curtis.
Cale slowly and quietly turned the knob. It turned easily. He nodded again.
“Ballard get the door. Cale and Tomes you’re first up,” the staff sergeant ordered.
Cale stepped back so Ballard could grab the handle.
Ballard whispered a count down. “One-two-three.”
Quickly he whipped open the door. Two infected had been sealed into this room. Cale had grown accustomed to the stenches that emanated from these creatures. A metallic click sent the woman that stood in the center of the room into the next life. The other, a man, sat huddled behind an exam table. Cale’s first shot missed and struck the cabinet. The man slowly stood to investigate the noise. Slowly he turned around. Like the infected pinned to the tree he wore a similar blue jumpsuit. Another metallic click and the man fell back into a tool table. It, and everything on it, crashed to the floor.
“Damn it,” whispered Cale.
The four of them moved into the room. Cabinets of medications and medical equipment lined most of the walls. A large machine occupied the corner on the right.
“What is that?” Ballard asked.
“Looks like an X-ray machine,” answered Tomes.
“A medical facility?” inquired Cale.
“Looks that way,” Curtis replied.
A loud thud from the other room startled them. Cale already had his weapon pointed at the open door back into the main room. He looked to the staff sergeant. Curtis nodded for him to proceed. Cale stepped over the woman’s body and exited with Tomes right behind him. The lighter still had difficulty piercing the darkness. But as they moved forward, it revealed a large leather chair and a sofa. Both men maneuvered around the coffee table that sat between the sofa and the television mounted to the wall. Another thud cut through the darkness.
“Over here,” Cale whispered.
It was another door along the left wall. Straight ahead they could see a dining table with booths seats along the wall. Three chairs lined the opposite side of the table and the space opened into the kitchen.
“We’re in a bunker,” said Tomes.
“A what?” asked Cale.
“You know,” Tomes explained. “A bunker for the end of the world. A bunch of nuts thought that the world was going to end back in nineteen ninety-nine. The Y2K thing.”
There was another thud behind the door. Cale aimed his weapon at it. Curtis pointed to Ballard then the door. Just as before he counted to three then opened it. A wall of darkness lay beyond its opening. Tomes moved closer in an effort to reveal the source of the sound. It started in a low moan then grew into a loud shriek. A reanimated corpse wearing a blue jumpsuit stumbled out at Tomes. She seized his arms and attempted to bite his face. In the scuffle the light went out.
“Fuck! Get her off me!” Tomes cried out.
The image of them falling to the floor as the light went out was engraved in Cale’s mind. Somehow, he knew exactly where everyone was standing. He was able to grab the woman by the collar and pull her to his side. He then placed his boot on her throat.
“Where is she?” shouted Ballard.
“I’ve got her here,” answered Cale. “Check on Tomes!”
“I’m good!” Tomes replied.
“Get the lighter lit!” Curtis shouted.
Tomes scrambled around on the floor searching for the lighter. He felt it in the dark but hit it away.
“Shit!” he exclaimed.
“Hurry up!” ordered Curtis.
“I’m trying!” Tomes replied as placed his hand on it. “I’ve got it!”
It took three strikes before the light was back on. The woman grasped feebly at Cale’s pant leg. Her shrieks were reduced to a gurgling sound due to the amount of pressure Cale exerted on her vocal cords with his boot. Cale prepared to shoot her in the head.
“Save your ammo, sergeant,” said Ballard. “I’ve got this.”
He used his combat tomahawk and cleaved off the top of her head at the bridge of her nose. Her rotted brain spilled onto the floor. Another growl echoed out of the darkness. There were more of them.
“Form back up,” ordered the staff sergeant.
Cale took point in the doorway and Tomes followed with Ballard behind him. Now that the light was through the door they could see inside the small hallway. A closed door to the left and an open walkway to the right. The moans of the undead were coming from the opening. Before Cale could move forward anymore an undead man walked out. Half of his face and his entire left arm had been eaten off. The fabric of his sleeve hung off in strips. Cale’s rifle recoiled as the bolt slammed back then forward again. The man’s head kicked to the side and he collapsed to the floor.
“Nice shot, sergeant,” praised Ballard.
Cale had acquired and destroyed his target in less than a second.
>
“Let’s pat each other on the back when we’re done, yeah?” whispered Curtis.
Neither of the men answered, but continued their sweep. Cale stopped just short of the opening.
“Tomes,” he whispered. “Come around to the other side..”
“Roger, sergeant,” replied Tomes as he did.
Carefully he shrouded the light from Cale so as not to blind him. Ballard positioned himself with his back against the closed door and faced the opening. Cale looked to him for any information about the next room. Ballard shook his head to signify no threat. Cale moved around the corner slowly. It was a bathroom. To his left and right were stalls, like you’d see in a barracks or a shopping center. Two on each side. Straight ahead he could see a figure. His initial response was to shoot, but he quickly identified the image as his own. It was a mirror. Tomes, then Ballard, and finally Curtis followed him in. To the right of the mirror on the same wall was another door.
“For fuck’s sake,” Tomes said. “How big is this place?”
The first stall shook as an undead threw itself against its walls. She screamed loudly, startling the four men, who leapt to the opposite side of the room.
“God damn!” shouted Ballard.
“She’s fucking pissed,” joked Curtis.
Their shadows danced on the stall door. Curtis attempted to push it open but it was locked.
“She’s also trapped,” he informed them. “We’ll come back to her.”
Cale turned just in time to watch an infected trip over a lip from a room to the left. The creature was unprepared and smashed its face into the floor. Brown and grey goo splattered across the tile. It had ended its own miserable existence.
“Did you see that?” he asked.
“Let’s hope all of them kill themselves for us,” chuckled Ballard.
Another moan reverberated through the restroom. It was followed by the sounds of shuffling feet. Curtis tapped Tomes on the shoulder and pointed to the wall opposite the opening. As the light source moved, Cale could see that the next room was a locker room. A lone infected groaned and moved toward the light. Curtis observed the undead man walk up the aisle. As the thing attempted to navigate the ledge that had fowled up its comrade, Curtis used his knife and stabbed it under the chin. The blade easily slid through and into the brain. The staff sergeant let him slump to the floor.
“Cale,” he whispered, then he pointed to the entryway to the locker room. Cale stepped over the lip. He stayed within the limits of the light until the rest of the group followed. It looked like a small locker room. Cale was reminded of the locker rooms in high school. A row of lockers formed an island in between benches. Cale swept along the right wall down the aisle. Each locker had a placard above it. It was too dark to read them, however. He followed it until he reached the back of the room. He then came up the other aisle, meeting back up with the other three members standing at yet another opening.
“It’s clear back there, staff sergeant,” he reported to Curtis.
Curtis looked back from the next room. “Showers are all clear.”
The woman in the stall scratched the metal walls and screamed from her cage.
“Ballard, shut her up,” Curtis ordered.
“Roger, sergeant,” he confirmed.
The group moved back into the restroom and Ballard, with the assistance of Tomes, entered the stall next to her. He stood on the toilet and peered over the wall. Her hands shot up and out of the darkness for him.
“Fuck!” he exclaimed as he fell off his stand. “God damn it.”
Tomes laughed.
“What’s goin on?” asked Curtis.
“I put my foot in the fucking toilet,” Ballard replied.
Everyone but Ballard laughed. But after only a moment he joined in too.
“Hurry up with her,” Curtis chuckled. “We have another door here.”
Ballard, now prepared for the woman’s attack, stood back up on the toilet. He couldn’t exactly see her face but brought his tomahawk down between her out stretched arms. The sound of her skull splitting was almost sickening, but her screams ceased. Her body slid down the wall and hit the floor. Almost perfect silence enveloped them. The men’s breathing was the only thing audible.
“Next room,” whispered Curtis.
Cale and Ballard moved into position and Tomes adjusted the light. After the count down Ballard opened the door. Immediately the light revealed a man sitting in the corner. On reflex Cale put two rounds into him.
“He’s already dead,” observed Tomes.
They took notice of his positioning. A 9mm pistol sat in his lap. His arms were limp. The wall behind him had a spray pattern that originated from his head. Obviously a self inflicted wound. He too wore a blue jumpsuit. An open mobile flip phone was loosely sitting in his left hand. Above him was a grey panel. Shelves with various supplied lined the walls. Directly to the left sat a generator.
“Dibs on the gun,” announced Ballard.
“Damn it,” whispered Tomes.
“Holy…” said Cale as he looked at what the shelves contained.
There was an assortment of fuel cans, batteries, camping supplies, and other equipment. Tomes was the first to see the row of flashlights and lanterns.
“Hey we got lights here,” he pointed out.
Tomes continued to hold the lighter while the others prepared the lanterns and flashlights. He closed the lighter and handed it back to Curtis when Ballard handed him the lantern.
“Perfect,” said Cale.
“What?” Ballard asked.
All three men turned to see what Cale was talking about. He snatched a roll of duct tape off of the shelf. He stood his rifle up between his legs and used the tape to secure a flashlight to the hand guard. Once he was satisfied with his work he turned the light on and raised his weapon to get a feel for it.
“Little heavier up front but it’ll work,” he stated.
Ballard picked up the 9mm pistol that sat on the dead man’s lap. He ejected the magazine to look at it.
“Empty,” he sounded disappointed.
“Hold on to it anyway,” Curtis ordered.
“Roger, sergeant,” replied Ballard as he tucked it into his pants.
“Look at this,” said Tomes.
Above the generator he found a placard.
“It’s an overlay of the facility,” observed Curtis.
Along with a map of the bunker it displayed other information. This was a private shelter with its own closed power and air and water purification systems. It housed up to ten people comfortably and provided a commons area, kitchen, latrine, sleeping quarters, two separate storage areas, a fully equipped medical section, and an armory.
“Where are we at on this thing?” asked Tomes.
“Right here,” Cale pointed to “Storage 2” on the map. “If we cut back through the latrine and swing through the crew area we’ll find the armory.”
“I noticed that too,” voiced Curtis. “Ballard and Tomes, stay here and see if you can get this thing running,” he tapped the generator with his boot.
“Roger, sergeant,” both men answered.
“Sergeant, take point,” Curtis ordered Cale as he picked up a lantern.
“Roger,” replied Cale as he moved past the two men working on the generator.
The light on his rifle assisted him in navigating the bodies in the latrine.
“Thank God for LED lights,” whispered Cale.
“No shit,” laughed Curtis.
The two of them arrived back in the hallway that joined the latrine with the kitchen. They focused on the closed door in front of them.
“Should be the living area,” said Curtis as he grabbed the door handle.
He looked at Cale to ensure he was ready. Cale nodded. Curtis opened the door and Cale rushed in. He panned his light around the room making sure to check every corner. Some of the bunks along the wall were folded down with duffle bags and suitcases sitting on them. The other bunks were in their
“stowed away” positions. Blue carpets and white walls ran the entire length of the room.
“Clear,” said Cale.
Staff Sergeant Curtis walked out ahead of Cale and stopped at the center of the room.
“Here,” he pointed to the right wall.
According to the placard, this was the door to the armory. They just hoped that their armory had the same funding as the rest of the facility. This door was different, made entirely of metal and much heavier. The handle creaked and groaned loudly. Cale adjusted his rifle in preparation for what could be behind it. He hurried in and swept into the first corner to the right and panned the rest of the room. Curtis followed, his lantern fully illuminated the room.
“Clear,” Cale stated again.
“Holy shit,” Curtis looked around at the racks that lined the room.
Metal lockers were filled with rifles, handguns, shotguns, ammunition, compound bows, crossbows, arrows, and bolts. At the back of the room was a workbench with spare casings and powder. The people here had the ability to manufacture their own ammunition as well as explosives. A hard back book sat on the bench. Cale walked over to investigate.
“They’re equipped to supply a small militia,” said Curtis as he opened one of the lockers. “All they’d need now was some claymores or hand grenades,” he laughed.
“They have them,” announced Cale holding up the book. “It’s a book of recipes for making explosives. Grenades, dynamite, C4. It’s all in here.”
“What the fuck?” Curtis looked surprised. “Who were these people?”
“That’s a good question,” replied Cale.
Curtis, now armed with a semi-automatic shotgun, searched for shells for his newly acquired weapon.
“Whoever they were they had a lot of money to afford all of this,” said Curtis. “This room alone has to be a quarter of a million dollars. Easily.”
Cale could believe it. It obviously belonged to someone wealthy. The overlay showed underground water tanks for purification and what looked like a natural well. These people were almost prepared for everything. Almost.
“None of this did them any good,” said Cale as he sat the book back down onto the workbench. “Not when you’re unsure of the kind of apocalypse that will be thrown at you.”
Z Plan (Book 3): Homecoming Page 4
