“There,” Eden said, pointing over the treeline just as the monstrous C-5M Galaxy crossed into view. All 222 feet of the massive plane’s wingspan shone in the bright summer sun as it banked and came in for a landing. Eden grinned. “The treatment is here. Let’s go meet the plane.”
She grabbed her pack and ran for the crew’s Humvee, not waiting for her CO’s okay. The rest of the work party joined her as she slid behind the wheel. The lieutenant was the last to get into the vehicle, and he gave her a sour glance as he got in.
“I give the orders on my crew, Blake.”
“Shit. Sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to—”
“Just drive.”
Eden sighed. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop screwing up. She gunned the engine, and dirt flew up behind the tires as they raced for the airfield. With the effortless skill of those with super-fast reflexes, she swerved to miss obstacles, including other vehicles, as they got closer. When she glanced over, the LT was pale and holding onto his seatbelt and oh-shit handle with clenched fists.
“That’ll be another week tacked on,” she mumbled, then slewed the Humvee to a stop next to another ExForce vehicle. Colonel Gaines glanced around at the sound of the screeching tires and glowered as the unit leapt down. More than one soldier was on shaky legs after the racecar ride they just had. “Hunter Blake and company requesting permission to view the landing, sir,” she said.
Gaines nodded. “Permission granted. Not like I could keep you away anyway.” He snapped his fingers with an evil grin. “We’re gonna need some help unloading. See to it, Lieutenant,” he said, motioning to her crewleader.
The colonel turned to one of the other men, a local survivor recruited after they found him in the ruins of Spanaway. “Martin, change of plans,” he said. “Take your guys over to the other side and help Marcy and her group with packing up their stuff.”
Martin looked over at Eden and she thought she saw something dark and unpleasant behind his eyes, just for a moment. When she blinked, it was gone, and he had started to gather his workers, all locals like him. She’d never met the man, so she couldn’t fathom why he’d level such a look her way. It didn’t matter now, as he was leaving, and she had a lot more to do anyway.
Shit, she thought as the others turned on her, angry about their new assignment. “Hey, at least it’s not digging ditches, right?”
“You get the first heavy crate, Blake,” the LT said. Agreement from the others rang loud in her ears as they all walked to a safe distance from the descending plane. They might be happy about the treatments arriving, but no one liked moving heavy shit. “Show us how it’s done.”
ExForce Command Center
Sergeant Rita Sensa knocked once and entered her CO’s office, standing at attention. “Sergeant Sensa, reporting as ordered, sir.”
“Take a seat, Sergeant,” Gaines said. “Have the supplies from Bunker Seven been unloaded?”
“Yes, sir, and they’re on the trucks to take to the bunker. If they haven’t already left, they will soon.”
“Any problems?”
“No, sir…” Sensa hesitated. “Well, not really.”
“Well, are there or aren’t there?”
“Sorry, sir, it’s just that one of our volunteers disappeared shortly after the plane arrived, sir. We tried locating him, but no dice.”
“You think he was bitten? There hasn’t been an alarm.”
“No, sir. He was a bit odd, anyway, and I was about to cut him loose. So maybe it was a good thing that he took off.”
“Odd? How so?” Gaines leaned back in his chair, one eyebrow raised.
“He was a snooper, sir. Caught him eavesdropping more than once, busted him trying to sneak into restricted areas, etc.” Sensa hastened to add, “No security breaches, sir. But he sure tried. Too many red flags, so I was gonna eighty-six him, but he left before I could.”
“Sounds like he was here for more than volunteering, Sergeant.”
“I thought so too, sir, but who could he spy for? There’s no one left but us.”
Gaines was quiet for a moment, lost in thought. “Still, best to rotate the security on anything he had access to and double check all our secure areas.”
“Yes, sir. I already have.”
Gaines grunted. “Good. About the supplies—any idea how we’re supposed to use them? Did they send a technician or something?”
“Yes, sir. There’s a medic with them. He’s on the truck too.” Gaines looked distant again, so she followed up with a question of her own. “What’s wrong, sir?”
Gaines shook himself free of his daze and looked at her with such an intensity that she worried for a moment. Was something wrong?
“Close the door, Sergeant.”
Sensa closed the door and then returned to her seat, curious about what her CO was going to reveal. He’d never been a forthcoming person, but she’d heard the rumors. That he’d seen friends die from walkers, that he’d been in some pretty hairy scrapes. And, of course, that he’d had to kill his fiancée.
“We haven’t told anyone this yet, but Marcy’s pregnant,” Gaines said.
Sensa was grinning before she’d fully registered his words. “Congratulations, sir! When’s she due?”
“In about five months. We don’t have an exact date yet.”
“That’s great to hear, sir. I’m happy for you.” Suddenly, Sensa put two and two together. “No wonder you wanted to know about the tech. Can the treatments help the baby?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t had a chance yet to get briefed. That’s why I wanted to make sure they sent someone along.” He sighed and scrubbed his hands through his short hair. “Between the first Expo launching soon and the treatments and Bunker Four and… well, it’s all been a bit much.”
“I can imagine. Bunker Four, sir? What’s happening—”
“Never mind, Sergeant. I never should’ve mentioned it.”
“Mentioned what, sir?” Sensa asked with a wry grin.
“Good man,” he said. “Erm, woman.”
“No worries, sir. Do you want me to hold the trucks so you can speak to the tech?” Sensa reached for her shoulder-mounted radio.
Gaines thought for a moment, then shook his head. “No. I’ll talk to Colonel Blake about it later. I’m sure she has more info than I do and just hasn’t disseminated it yet. Dismissed.”
“Sir,” Sensa said as she stood and opened the office door.
“Oh, and Sensa…” Gaines trailed off as she looked around. “Keep this between us, will you? Marcy, I mean.”
“Count on it, sir,” she replied and closed the door on her way out of the office. She couldn’t fathom what Gaines would look like as a father, but it was going to be interesting to find out.
Governor’s Conference Room
Bunker Seven
Wheeler Peak, New Mexico
Bill Shaw, his wife, Jennifer, Governor Tom Ridgely, and several others had gathered around the conference room table. They’d been there for hours ironing out a plan for distribution of both prion treatments to the bunkers. That had been easy compared to actually implementing that plan. Bill took another long swig of pseudo-coffee and sighed. It just wasn’t the same.
“Still no word from Five?” he asked.
Jennifer shook her head. “Not a peep. We know they’re getting our transmissions. They’re just not responding. Still, that’s better than Four.”
Bill snorted. He, Ridgely, and Atkins had called to let Bunker Five know about the prion treatment, and the pissant little puke who’d answered had told them to fuck off and stop bothering him. Further calls had not been not answered.
“You know,” Jennifer said, “it’s not so much the assholes like these people we have to deal with that disturbs me. It’s the people in those bunkers who aren’t going to get the treatment.”
“How do you mean?” he asked.
“Jennifer, if I may,” the governor said before she could respond. “It’s simple, Bill. If we do g
et them the treatments, somehow or another, it’s likely they’ll withhold it from the people under their thumb. It will become a barter item instead of salvation.”
“Exactly,” Jennifer agreed. “These types of people will see it as another way to hold on to their power rather than provide it to their people. It’ll be the new ‘gold standard’ for the power hungry in every bunker.”
Bill sat down. “I see what you mean. It’s the Golden Rule: he who has the gold makes the rules. So, how do we fight it?”
Mary Maxwell, also in attendance, spoke up. “I have an idea about that, actually. Governor, is there a way to send a message between bunkers that bypasses the control center?”
Ridgely thought for a moment. “I don’t think so, but I’m no expert on these systems. We should talk to Roger Tate at Bunker Eight. He helped design the damn things.”
“Okay, we’ll table that for the moment until we talk to them. If we can do it somehow, I suggest we send a message to the people in those bunkers telling them everything. Just put it all out there.”
“But that would cause rioting, especially if the ones in charge haven’t told them,” Jennifer said. “Oh! I see where you’re going. While we deal with them externally, their own people can work on them from inside. That’s genius, Mary!”
Mary blushed and smiled. “Thank you. I just hope we can make it work. And it doesn’t solve the problem about people on the surface, either. The treatment could still be used on survivors, if there even are any.”
“Good points, everyone,” Bill said. “Last item on the agenda: Bunker Eight. Anyone talked to Anderson yet?”
“I did,” the governor said. “He’s ready to receive our convoy, but he’s worried about the trip. He said the way our guys will be coming used to be a militia-controlled zone. Especially between Lubbock and Abilene. He suggests we route the convoy either through Amarillo and Wichita Falls, then south or through Carlsbad and Fort Stockton, then east.”
“How bad were these attacks?”
“He didn’t say, but Anderson doesn’t exaggerate, in my experience.”
Shaw nodded. “Agreed. Let’s also look at backup plans to get the treatments to Bunkers Four and Five, regardless of their comms status. Governor, do you have anything you want to go over?”
“Literally, I need to talk about the weather,” he said, laughing.
“Oh?” Jennifer asked, who couldn’t help but smile. “What about it?”
“The haboobs are getting worse, and—”
Shaw always chuckled at the Arabic word for “big-ass sandstorm,” and this time was no different. But it didn’t take long for him to tune out, worried about the attacks that might occur on his people between the bunkers. It was a long way from northern New Mexico to just outside Austin, and a lot could go wrong. He glanced over at Mary and knew that her daughter Rachel would want to go.
As one of Bunker Seven’s best-rated Hunters, he hadn’t figured out a way to keep her off the mission. But losing Rachel so soon after her father’s passing would kill Mary. Maybe not literally, but it would destroy her spirit, and Shaw couldn’t risk that. He care about his friend too much to put her through that pain.
“—make sure the vehicles are secured,” the governor finished. “Don’t you agree, Colonel?”
Shaw realized he was now part of the conversation and nodded. “Absolutely,” he replied. He focused on their conversation, putting his problems with Rachel out of his mind as much as possible. He got up to get some more coffee.
It was going to be a long day.
Headquarters
First Church of the Divine Judgment
West Lafayette, Indiana
Reverend Sebastian Wright put down the radio he’d been holding after one final “Over and out, my brother.” He looked around at the carefully selected members of his inner cadre and smiled. It was not a pleasant smile, and none of his so-called advisors were fooled. Wright knew they were just hoping his divine wrath wasn’t going to come down on them.
“That was the longest game of telephone I’ve ever even heard of,” Harper Grey said, standing off to one side. He’d just entered the room, and he’d caught only the tail end of the radio conversation. He had several inches on the six-foot-three reverend and nearly a foot in width at the shoulder besides. He rarely spoke, and when such a big man did, people tended to listen. Even the reverend.
Which was, of course, why he’d hired him. Every leader needed someone to keep themselves in check, on the right path. Marcus Aurelius had the slave who followed him around whispering, “Remember, thou are mortal,” and the reverend had Harper Grey.
It was still infuriating how often the man was right.
“When you get the actual telephone systems up and running, Harper, you can tell me how to conduct our operations. Our radios only work for about five hundred miles, so we relay. Do you have an alternative?”
Harper just sipped his coffee and stared at the reverend.
“I thought not. Now, we have verification that the rumors are true. AEGIS has a treatment for the divine plague sent to cleanse the Earth of the sinful and the nonbelievers. We must destroy it. We cannot allow such an abomination to exist. They must be purged in the fires of their own creation, damned to walk the Earth as God has judged until they rot!”
Harper crooked an eyebrow at the reverend as he started to rant, and the other man subsided as he realized he’d gone a bit off-track.
“Ahem. You are my advisers. How do you suggest we proceed?”
The men around the table looked at each other, each waiting for the others to speak first. Inner cadre they may be, but Wright had a nasty habit of changing the members of that group if he didn’t like their advice. Anyone who got replaced left just one way, feet first.
“Well, sir, we could—”one man ventured.
Harper coughed. When the man glared at him, Harper just stared him down until the man looked away. “There’s only one way to do it, boss,” he said. “Attack them en route. How good is our source on this, anyway?”
It annoyed Wright that Harper had seen fit to make his own plan the only plan. The man was growing more infuriating by the day, but the utility of his ruthlessness couldn’t be denied. “His information is unimpeachable,” Wright answered. “He was stationed at one of the bases, posing as a volunteer. The man saw the shipment firsthand.”
“Hmmm, okay. That one, obviously, we can’t intercept, but the others… Does he know when they’re shipping out?”
“He overheard some of the soldiers talking to the medics who came with the treatment. Bunker One was the first to receive the shipment. The others are leaving either through truck or plane in the next week, bound for the other bunkers.”
“Good.” Grey said with a smile. “That gives us some lead time. We can hit the ones on the ground easily enough. We have people in the right places or can get them. But the planes are going to take more work and preparation. I have an idea.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Staging Area
ExForce Expedition One
Outside Eatonville, Washington
“I can’t hear you,” Angela Gates said, waving in the general direction of the roar from the engines of the Strykers parked nearby. With the noise from the teams unloading equipment in the cleared parking lot and the other vehicles idling, they were all going to have hearing damage, she was sure.
Major Reynolds nodded, and they walked farther from the vehicles until they could speak. Gates watched as their escorts fanned out around them in a loose circle, ever watchful for walkers or runners. Or another Driebach.
“I said we’re about ready to move out, Governor. Is there anything you need from us before we leave?” Reynolds wore his full tactical gear in expectation of trouble. Covered with weapons and equipment, he looked like a one-man army even to her experienced eye.
She shook her head. “No, Major, we’ll be fine. Even if it takes you a couple days. I can always send someone to the bunker if need be, anyway. You co
ncentrate on clearing our new home for us,” she said with a smile.
Reynolds didn’t smile back, just nodded again. “Yes, ma’am.”
“And Major…”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“It’s just Angela now. Not Governor. And you know this mayor thing is only temporary, right? I didn’t want to do this at all.”
Reynolds looked sheepish for a moment. “Yes, ma— uh, Angela. And I’m sure the colonel will find someone to take over for you soon. I’ll let you know when we’re clear. I’m leaving a squad of Hunters with you, and the Humvee with that .50-cal.” He nodded toward the vehicles. “As long as your people stay inside the perimeter, you should be safe, but don’t hesitate to call us if you need to.”
“I’m sure we’ll be fine, Major. Besides,” she said, eying her husband, who was walking up behind Reynolds, “I have Daniel.”
Reynolds sighed and rolled his eyes. “He’s right behind me, isn’t he?” He didn’t wait for her answer but turned to find the second sneakiest man he’d ever met looking him in the eye. “Morning, Daniel.”
“Good morning, Major. All set?”
“Yeah, we’re headed out now. Unless you need anything?”
Daniel shook his head. “Not a thing. Ms. Blake and her Hunters will be enough for our protection, I believe.”
Reynolds glanced over at the young girl standing guard on the perimeter, perched on the hood of a rusted pickup truck of some sort. He hoped it had been the right call bringing her along. Not that Colonel Gaines had left him much choice.
Reynolds toggled his shoulder radio. “All units, prepare to move out.” He turned back to the former governor and her husband, shaking their hands. “Good luck, Angela, Daniel.”
“And to you, Tom,” Angela said.
Reynolds climbed into the back of one of the Strykers with a final wave.
She waved back, and the sadness and fear she felt must’ve shown on her face, because Daniel noticed. He always noticed.
The Dying of the Light (Book 3): Beginning Page 9
