Winston rubbed his face. “No, I haven’t.”
“Sir, go get some rest,” Lane said, patting Winston’s back. He managed a very weak smile. “We can take care of the walkers in the parking lot. Whenever Caine and Helton show up, I’ll give you a holler.”
Winston didn’t say anything; he just nodded and got to his feet. Without a word, he left Master Control and headed towards some cots they had set up down the hall in the admin offices. Within a few seconds of lying down, he was fast asleep.
Lane grabbed the emergency keys and left Master Control herself, opting to go outside and take a look for herself at the undead situation in the parking lot. She grabbed a radio as she exited and called for Putnam and Henderson to meet her out front. A few moments later, Lane saw the SUV pull around to the main entrance. She went outside to meet them.
“Winston is finally sleeping. I told him we would take care of the dead in the parking lot,” Lane said.
Putnam – who was driving – nodded. “Seems like the noise draws ‘em out. How we gonna do that without making noise?”
Lane smiled. “You’re driving a two-ton SUV, Putnam. Take a wild guess?”
“Ah. Didn’t think about that,” Putnam said, grinning. He turned to Henderson. “You ever play mailbox baseball as a kid?”
* * *
Travis and Betty Pierce lived a very unassuming life. Both retired from government jobs, both drew their pension from Uncle Sam, and both knew more about the other person than they did themselves. They mowed their lawn, paid their taxes, and took care of their grandchildren when the undead began to rise.
Typical country grandparents.
Travis Pierce watched over his granddaughter as she slept. While she snoozed away, he was vigilant about keeping her safe, no matter how long it took her mother and father to get to her. He had no doubt that Michael and Lindsey were coming for her, no matter how long it took. Travis felt a bit odd watching over Anna with his HK416 slung across his chest, but he would never be caught with his pants down, literally. He once took a shit on himself waiting for a sniper target in Venezuela. Of course, that was nearly thirty years ago, when he was a much younger man. In his older years, he’d let his hair grow out, let his beard be the envy of any Duck Dynasty fan, and spent a good portion of his time out in the woods hunting. Of course, he’d kept his arsenal of goodies in the basement, out of sight of prying eyes. The government didn’t care what he had in there, but the average citizen need not know.
Travis didn’t let himself get too far out of shape, despite just celebrating his fiftieth birthday. He still walked when he had the chance, still stayed relatively healthy, and planned on having many more birthdays in his future. He’d become a grandparent last year, but there was no adjusting period needed. He’d immediately taken to his granddaughter. With Michael and Lindsey both working now, he got to spend more time with Anna, and he couldn’t get enough. Sure, he was the overprotective male figure in every girl’s life, but so was Michael. Between the two of them, her first boyfriend was going to have a hell of a time.
Travis smiled and watched his beautiful granddaughter snooze away. No reason to wake her, not after the night that they’d had. After Lindsey had made her last phone call, the outside world had gone all to shit. Civil services went first, followed by high technology. He’d been through this drill before. After leaving his government job, he’d taken on the job of being a prepper. He had plenty of time on his hands and little else to do, so preparing for whatever might be coming became sort of a hobby.
Twenty years working for a PMC (private military contractor) and doing some shady work for shady people, he’d learned that it wasn’t a matter of if the world went to shit, it was when. Travis knew what was coming, and there wasn’t much he could do about it. Fortunately, he was prepared, however. It wouldn’t be prudent for them to take off just yet. He needed to let things die down for a few days first. Once things had settled some, they could make their way out to his bunker. The bunker would have everything that they needed to survive for a nearly infinite amount of time. It was fully self-sufficient, even able to withstand anything short of a straight-on nuclear blast. The dome shape prevented it taking damage from any wind less than 500mph. There was one glaring issue with the bunker, though.
It was in Kansas.
And he was in Virginia.
Travis slipped out of the small bedroom and gently closed the door. It was time to go outside and do some rounds. Betty was sleeping in their bed alone this morning, as she had done most of the night. She didn’t need to worry about what was going on outside. She knew that Travis could take care of damn near anything that crossed his path, even the undead.
Travis leaned in the bedroom and took a quick look. Betty was still sleeping soundly. That was a small victory for today. He needed everyone well rested for the trip, including Michael and Lindsey. Travis had faith in Michael. An ex-military man was what his daughter needed. He didn’t know what to make of Michael at first, but Michael had proven himself in leaps and bounds lately. Travis knew about the rough times that they’d had, barely scraping by. He watched Michael bust his ass for his family for the last year. Anna meant the world to Michael, and he would stop at nothing to make sure she was safe; of this, Travis was certain. Michael may need a little help occasionally, but he was loyal and honorable, and loyalty and integrity was going to be in short supply.
Travis eased out of the bedroom and silently made his way across the house. Once he was outside, his senses went on overload. With the power out and traffic down to next to nothing, it was unnervingly quiet. No noise, no animals, no hum of power lines. Even the generator that ran his home didn’t make as much racket as he though it should. Of course, it was situated inside a protective building about fifty yards away from the house. The building had been soundproofed to limit its noise signature, which it did quite well. Silence was his friend; it gave him the ability to hear the engine of a 1988 Ford Bronco coming a long way off.
The road Travis and Betty Pierce lived on ended in a cul-de-sac that was essentially their driveway. The road itself was only a quarter-mile long with no other houses. From their front porch, they could see the main road, but remained far enough away that it kept from prying eyes. Although the road was well taken care of, the thick forest kept it from being seen. Only when the leaves fell in autumn did the house become visible.
Travis slunk down, making himself as small a target as possible. He moved forward, edging towards the end of his gravel driveway, raising his HK416 as he did. The rifle wasn’t available for purchase or ownership in the United States, but he doubted there was anyone left to enforce that law. The rifle was a mean piece of work, complete with an AimPoint red dot sight and SilencerCo suppressor. When the rifle was fired, it made considerably less noise than its unsuppressed counterpart did. While the term “silencer” didn’t exactly mean silent, it made a hell of a lot less racket. It used the same 5.56mm ammo that he had stockpiled for his M4, but he’d always preferred the HK416 to the M4. It was his favorite piece of equipment.
Travis got to the end of his driveway and paused. While he wasn’t expecting trouble, he also wasn’t expecting the Bluefield Rescue Squad vehicle that came cruising down the road a few moments later. Travis stood and raised the rifle, that is until he saw who was behind the wheel. He lowered the rifle to low ready and felt an immense relief. Michael and Lindsey had made it; a little late, but here nonetheless. Travis waved at the vehicle.
Michael pulled the Bronco alongside Travis Pierce. There was something about Travis’ look that worried him, but then again, he didn’t know about all of his past. As far as Michael knew, Travis was a retired FBI agent that specialized in fraud cases. Little did he know Travis had a much different past. There was much more to his father-in-law than just a man who investigated Medicare fraud.
Michael rolled the window down. “How’s Anna? Everything all right?”
Travis closed his eyes and nodded slowly. “Yeah, Michael. Everythi
ng is fine. Why don’t you pull up in the driveway and I’ll talk to you and Lin.”
CHAPTER 24
Michael hugged his daughter like he hadn’t seen her in years. He expected to miss her, but actually seeing her was something different altogether. Michael held back tears as Anna lovingly laid her head on his shoulder. He didn’t want to let her go. He never wanted to let her go. As he embraced his daughter, his mind went wandering. He knew what he had to do. There were people out in the community that needed his help. Less fortunate people didn’t have this moment of love that he did. Many fathers out there wondered where their daughters were. People who had the best in their hearts, but maybe not the intelligence and muscle to survive nowadays. As he sat and talked with Travis Pierce – his father-in-law – his nerves began to settle some. Being around his daughter and wife put his nerves to rest more than anything. They were safe, for the time being, and they had a plan.
Despite the lengthy travel that they’d endured the last twenty-four hours, he was glad to take a few minutes and relax. From what Travis had said, the dead hadn’t made much of an appearance overnight. Sometimes it was better to take the bad with the good, however. If they weren’t roaming around the woods at the Pierce’s, then where the hell were they? Even taking into account the small population of Pocahontas, the numbers still didn’t add up. Most of the town looked abandoned on the way in, leading to the suspicion that there could be a serious problem.
Michael and Lindsey cuddled with Anna as she fed on a bottle. Ryan and Trent took up seats in the floor near them. Ryan and Trent already sipped on coffee, generously provided by Travis and Betty Pierce.
Travis handed Michael a cup of coffee. “Well we can count it as a blessing, Michael. Makes it easier to travel.”
Michael gratefully accepted the coffee. Plenty of cream and sugar; Travis never forgot anything. “Thanks. Yeah, travel hasn’t been that difficult. At least not yet.”
Travis sat down beside Betty. “So, where do you plan on going?”
Michael sipped the hot coffee. “Well, the prison is cleared out, so I guess we will try to stay there for the time being. I don’t have some luxury condo to run off to, so I guess it will have to do for now.”
Travis looked at his coffee. “What if you did? What then?”
Michael frowned. “I…I’m not sure. Do you have something like that? Some vacation home away from civilization?”
“Not exactly,” Travis said. “I don’t have anything close by, if that’s what you’re asking. I do, however, have something that we could all live in for quite a long time. An old underground missile silo was converted into luxury survival condominiums. Problem is…it’s in Kansas.”
Michael swallowed hard. “Kansas? Hm… Hell of a drive from here, Travis.”
“Roughly sixteen hours if we left right now. That’s with no traffic and no zombies between here and there,” Travis said.
Ryan flinched. “We’re not using the ‘Z’ word, Mr. Pierce.”
Travis chuckled. “All right, then. Whatever you want to call ‘em, they are causing a serious shitstorm on the roads. Any of the four-lane interstates are out of the question. Most of the decent sized limited-access highways are too. Best way to travel right now is by air or taking back roads. I’d say taking back roads makes this trip maybe two or three times longer, so we’re looking at a couple days getting there.”
“Travis, how on earth did you get a luxury survival condo? In Kansas?” Michael asked.
“I’m sure he bought one when the economy started to go downhill. Most people who are afraid of governmental collapse often do such things. I’m surprised there isn’t a bunker or underground living space right here on the property,” Trent said. His comment drew an odd look from Travis.
“He’s smart as a tack, but a little…sheltered,” Michael said, motioning to Trent.
“I might be sheltered, but I can still see that going to Kansas is a better idea than staying here. And there is nothing wrong with me other than a little obsessive-compulsive disorder,” Trent replied.
“Yeah, so as long as we don’t give you an odd number of grapes, you’ll be fine. Is that what I’m reading into this?” Helton asked.
Michael shook his head. Going to need to work on Trent’s social skills as well. He reminds me of that guy from that TV show…dammit what is his name? Michael thought absently. “All right, getting back to the issue at hand. How did you manage to get one of those, Travis?”
Betty smiled, as did Lindsey. They knew something that Michael didn’t with those knowing grins. Michael couldn’t help but look around the room to see what the joke was.
“Am I missing something here?” Michael asked.
Betty and Lindsey both looked to Travis for approval. Whatever it was, he nodded in acknowledgement.
“I know you think that my father is a retired FBI agent, which is partially true. He worked for the government, but he was a private contractor for years,” Lindsey said.
“I thought you guys were all ‘secret squirrel’ and shit,” Ryan quipped.
“Well, little Lin here is smarter than the average bear. She accidentally found out one day while I was getting ready to travel to Gitmo,” Travis said, winking at Lindsey. “She found a note that I had left about getting some Cuban cigars. From there, it only took her twenty minutes of interrogation that bin Laden would have been proud of to get it out of me. She was sixteen at the time, and I wanted to be honest with her.”
Michael didn’t know what to make of it all. Lindsey’s father was a former black ops operator for a private military contractor. That’s a major game changer. A survival condo in Kansas. Also a big announcement. For the first time in quite a while, Michael was speechless. While he was trying to process it all, Travis continued.
“The silo is in a place called Raven Ridge, Kansas. You won’t find it on any map, but I know exactly how to get there, and how to keep us safe from here to there. A couple years ago, I set up some caches between here and Kansas. It’s not much, but it’ll give us some options between here and there. They’re all in plain sight, hidden in self-storage units.”
“Wait…Raven Ridge?” Ryan asked. “Aren’t those things like two million dollars? I remember seeing those on TV a couple years ago. They aren’t cheap.”
“Yes they are, Mr. Helton. I made some contacts years ago with some SEALs who have since retired and taken jobs as security at Raven Ridge. These guys don’t bullshit. If we can get from here to there without much incident, we will be more than taken care of when we get there,” Travis answered.
“Where on earth did you get that kind of money, Travis? Michael asked. Maybe he didn’t want to know, but it was something that would be stuck in the back of his head until he got an answer.
“Let’s just say there are a few drug lords in Mexico that paid for it…against their will.”
“Wow. You just jumped up about ten notches on the ‘badass’ scale, Travis,” Ryan said.
“Well, years ago, I was working with the DEA when we raided some cartel assets in Mexico. There was so much money that we couldn’t bring it back to the United States. I’m talking tractor-trailer loads of cash. We each skimmed some of the cash and purchased the condos in the event of something cataclysmic. That was twelve years ago.”
“Jesus, Travis. I think I might need to reevaluate you,” Michael said.
Travis grinned a knowing smile. “Me and the boys figured we had to use the money for something useful and something that could have plausible deniability. We bought the condos under assumed identities with a government guise so as not to cause too much of a stir. As far as Raven Ridge knows, we are just very important assets to the United States government.”
Michael sat and sipped his coffee. He didn’t know what to say. It was a good idea, admittedly. Navy SEALs as security in an underground missile silo? Sounded too good to be true, but in light of recent events, he believed every word of Travis’ story. Hell, there wasn’t a reason to doubt it, for that
matter. Travis had been forthcoming enough to let him know about seizing cartel assets as a private military operative in Mexico. Any details after that would be trivial at best. Michael made a mental note not to ever challenge war stories against Travis Pierce in the future.
Jesus, my father-in-law is the redneck James Bond, Michael thought absently.
“You look like you’re having a hard time coming to terms with leaving, Michael. Something on your mind?” Travis asked.
Michael looked up from his coffee. “We’ve cleared out Black Mountain. The prison is secure and we have enough supplies there to wait it out for a good while. It’s not a luxury survival condo, but I think we should take advantage of it, especially considering the danger and the distance in driving all the way to Kansas.”
“You’re suggesting we should go to Black Mountain State Prison instead?”
Michael nodded slowly. “For the time being, yes. Look, we don’t have any idea what’s out there beyond Virginia. You said it would take two to three days, conservatively. I think we should plan on it taking closer to a week or two, unless you have some kind of air travel in mind.”
“Nah, couldn’t get a chopper pilot on the payroll,” Travis said jokingly. “I’ll admit I have been a little lax in my preparations here lately. I’ve got plenty of guns, ammo, and working vehicles. What I don’t have is a contingency plan. My caches are meant to keep us going for a few days at a time, not weeks or months. I think it might not be a bad idea to hole up at Black Mountain, Michael. At least until we can get some more supplies.”
Michael stood up. “It’s not just that, Travis. There are people that need that prison for safety. If we aren’t going to stay there, then we need to fill it up with people that will. It’s up to the sheepdogs to keep the wolves away, remember.”
“Look it’s all noble and shit to want to help, but I don’t think we should risk our own ass to help people that can’t help themselves. Natural selection just sped up a few levels and I think those kind of people will be a bigger pain in the ass than what they’re worth.”
Refuge From The Dead (Book 1): Lockdown Page 15
