“Well, now that’s done,” Ennis said and took his seat once more. He looked around at the people in the room and at the monitors on the wall. “Our next step is for me to formally hand over power to President-elect Gates. Has there been any chatter about this decision?”
The governors shook their heads, and Marcus Simms spoke up. “Sir, even here, as far from Bunker One as you can get, they know about the president-elect. The videos are helping as well, and the only thing we’ve heard is that people are excited that one of their own—meaning someone from a bunker—is going to be leading the charge to retake the surface. They’re all behind us one hundred percent, at least for now.”
“Good. We’ll hold elections in a couple years, when the time is right. Okay with you, Mrs. Gates?”
Gates nodded. “Yes, Mr. President.”
“Good, then we’ll have that ceremony in a few days. Do it outside, somewhere nice. Film it, put it in the bunkers, the whole shebang. Mr. Taylor, can you handle that?”
Daniel Taylor nodded as well. “Yes, Mr. President. I’ll take care of it.”
“Good, good.” Ennis looked around the room. “What’s next?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Z-Day + 24 years
Governor’s Quarters
Bunker One
Eden put down her fork and sighed. It was the first real meal she’d eaten in weeks, and she’d stuffed herself full. Her parents had really gone all out tonight, even opening a bottle of their hoarded wine collection. She sat back against the chair and covered a slight burp with her hand, laughing. Her cheeks hurt from smiling and laughing so much that evening as they’d caught up.
“Really?” she asked. “In the motor pool?”
“Oh yeah, on the hood of one of the Humvees,” her mom said with a laugh while her father just shook his head and grinned. “We’ve given him shit about it for weeks. Fernandez got a reprimand, but he’s been the talk of the base, apparently.”
“I would never have expected…” Eden said. Her brother had apparently grown up considerably in the last few weeks.
Her mom reached across the table and held her hand for a moment. “He’s not the only one who’s changed.”
Eden blushed and looked down at her lap, then picked up her wine to take another sip.
“You’ve really grown up, Eden,” her father said, and she could see the pride in his eyes and hear it in his voice. “I wish it hadn’t come at so high a price, but you’ve turned a corner. Well done.”
The laughter faded as they all thought of the friends and loved ones they’d lost over the last year and in the years before. Her father was the first to speak again.
“Well, count on me to kill the mood,” he said with a chuckle. “Good grief.”
Kimberly rolled her eyes and looked over at Eden. “So, are you all caught up? What are your plans?”
Eden nodded. “I heard something about the Driebach bunker, Nine, but it was bits and pieces here and there. What happened?”
Kim sat back, her face grave for a moment, then the frown faded. “We haven’t made an official announcement yet, but it’s been destroyed. We used the Wildfire Protocol remotely. We’re waiting for an address from the president about it once all the refugees have been dealt with and things have settled down a bit.”
“We can’t wait too long or the rumors—” Her father spoke up, and it sounded like this was a discussion they’d had before, since her mother interrupted.
“I know, I know. We’ve both told the president. What do you want me to do?” Kimberly asked.
“Wildfire? That’s the same thing as… It’s what…” Eden couldn’t finish the words.
“As Frank used in Bunker Four, yes. None of us knew that it could be activated remotely, though. The president kept that close to the vest, apparently.”
“So he could just blow us up at any time?” Eden asked, shocked. She started to stand up, but Kimberly put a hand on her arm and she settled back down.
“It’s been permanently deactivated. It can’t happen anymore. We made sure of that.”
“But if that’s true, then why not just blow Bunker Four remotely? Why risk the sold—” She interrupted herself as the truth hit her. “Oh, right, the civilians.”
“Exactly. Someone had to get them out, to rescue them. Otherwise, it would’ve been easy.”
“So, what, he just forgot about this years ago when they discovered Nine had been compromised?”
Her dad spoke this time. “Actually, he forgot everything. For more than twenty years.” When Eden looked confused, he continued. “His chopper went down on Z-Day, and he got amnesia. Forgot who he was, all of it. It’s a miracle he survived. The only other person who knew was the first lady, and who could she tell? Marnes? Thank God she didn’t say anything.”
Eden agreed. There could hardly have been a worse person to give that knowledge to, except maybe Dagger. “Well, at least it’s over with. Marnes is gone, probably dead now, Dagger’s definitely dead, the president’s back, we’re going to have a new one, and the Driebachs have been dealt with. We can start rebuilding now with nothing hanging over our heads.”
“And what the hell will that be like?” her father asked, eliciting a laugh from the others.
“Peace,” Eden said. “Finally. I’m looking forward to finding out.”
Madam Marjorie’s Odds & Ends
New Salisbury, Pennsylvania
The candles were still lit, even though it was bright daylight outside. The shop looked better than it had the last time he’d seen it, though. Ennis could see that the new construction and repairs to the original building that he’d ordered had been finished, and he smiled.
Marjorie had refused to accept his offer to rebuild the place from the ground up, and the most he’d been able to talk her into were repairs and a new addition for a real bedroom and bathroom. He’d tweaked the design a bit to Darnell’s specifications, because the young man cared about his mama a great deal, but overall, he’d left it up to his people to handle.
His people. It still felt odd to say something like that after being just “Harvard” for twenty years.
“Found it!” Marjorie yelled from her newish kitchen, and he heard her laugh as she returned to the living room with a tray. Her old cracked and patched teapot sat on top of it, and he could smell the Earl Grey from where he sat. His favorite, as she knew. He smiled.
“They moved it?” he asked. He picked up the pot and poured for both of them.
“They moved everything!” she said, pretending to be upset. “And who needs a drawer just for trays? Wastefulness!”
Ennis had known the woman for long enough. She loved everything about her renovated home, but she wasn’t about to let him know that. And she knew that he knew and so on and so forth. It was a delicate game, but a simple one, comparatively.
“But you didn’t come here to ask me about the house, did you?” Marjorie said, looking at him over the rim of her cup.
It still amazed him, even after all these years, that as blind as she was, she needed almost no help getting around and doing for herself, as long as she was familiar with the surroundings. It was no wonder she was griping about stuff being moved. After all, the sightless depended on consistency to remember where everything was and how to use it. Still, he had faith that she would be fine, and clearly, so did she.
Ennis chuckled at her question. She always saw through to the root of the matter. “No, ma’am, I did not.”
“Out with it, then! We’ve all got things to do today. Some of us more than others.”
Ennis wasn’t sure if she was talking about his duties as president or her own activities, but it didn’t matter. “I’ve come to ask you again to work with the new president,” he said, though he expected the same answer as he’d received the previous times he’d asked. “She could use your wisdom by her side.”
Marjorie smiled and set down her cup, then leaned forward and held out her hands. Ennis set down his own cup and took them
. Marjorie gave him a squeeze and another smile, then answered him.
“For the last time, no, Ennis. I live here. I’m needed here. You’re welcome to come by for tea and a chat, but this is my home, and I’m not leaving.”
He’d known her for a long time and knew her well enough to know that this was her final word on the subject. Still, he’d had to try.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a smile.
New Atlantic Fleet HQ
Naval Station Norfolk
Norfolk, Virginia
Sunshine streamed in the windows of Captain Jackson O’Reilly’s office, and he paused to take in the view. At the southern end of Chesapeake Bay, where it joined the James River, the waters were a deep cobalt blue. He would love to be out there fishing on his boat, but he hadn’t finished restoring it yet. He glanced to his left and looked at the long row of slips where new construction and restorations were going on side-by-side. They couldn’t yet replicate the speed or size of the ships that had come here before Z-Day, but they were working on it.
Jackson still found it odd yet pleasing to see the renovated tall ships next to the more modern behemoths that they were attempting to resurrect. The wooden ships were easier to restore, but he hoped before long that they’d get back into the swing of things and see the other ships slide out on their missions too.
“Enjoying the view, Captain?” a voice asked from behind him, and Jack smiled but didn’t turn.
“Best office in the building, sir,” he replied and heard the expected chuckle in return.
“Except for mine, of course,” Graves said as he walked up beside his old friend. “But then, you actually get to get out there. I’m only allowed on my boat once in a blue moon.”
“You know how important the Texas is as well as I do, sir. And, of course, how important your work is here. Can’t have you gallivanting off all willy-nilly, sir.”
Graves sighed. “I’m beginning to wonder if I should’ve taken the president—excuse me, former president—up on his offer. At least then I wouldn’t be riding a desk.”
“So far inland, sir?” Jack shook his head. “Not bloody likely.”
“Fair enough, Captain. Fair enough.”
They stood for another long moment, both savoring the view and admiring the results of the work they and their men had put their hearts and souls into. Norfolk had been mostly cleared by this point and was growing as more and more refugees were found by their patrols and more volunteers signed up for service.
Graves was the first to break the silence.
“She’s ready, Jack,” he said, not turning from the window. “You leave tomorrow.”
Jackson felt a surge of elation at the end to waiting, tempered by the sobering realization that his new mission would take him far from here for an indefinite amount of time. He started to speak and stopped. Then started again and stopped again. He hated not knowing what to say.
“I felt the same way before my first cruise as captain, you know,” Graves said. “Of course, I wasn’t going halfway around the world, either.”
“The crew of the Anderson won’t fail you, sir,” Jack said.
“Good. Zavrazhny and Fagerhölm are counting on you and your supplies to make it to the Oslo Free Zone. They’ve had a hard few years, but they’ve made something there. Not to mention the hundreds of people with them.”
“I still can’t believe they made it out of Russia. That’s what, a thousand miles or more? Tough sons of bitches.”
Graves laughed. “If you’d ever met Tatiana Zavrazhny, you wouldn’t be surprised. Make sure to give her my compliments.”
“Will do, sir.”
“The Ramage ready for round two yet? Where’s she going, Rome?”
“Naples, sir. She’ll be ready in about a week. Frankly, I’m amazed at the good news, given what we saw here. Thousands in Spain, holed up in castles, London’s gone but Edinburgh is thriving—more castles—and we’re going to have to get over to Japan and Australia—”
Graves laughed. “One thing at a time, Jack. You just get to Oslo and back, and then we’ll talk.”
O’Reilly smiled. “Fair enough, sir.”
Graves finally turned from the view. “I’m not looking forward to finding a new XO, you know.”
“I don’t blame you, sir. I’m pretty great.”
“Well, Captain, take your ‘greatness’ out to your ship and get the hell over there with those supplies. Dismissed!”
Jack saluted and then took the admiral’s outstretched hand.
“Good luck, Jack.”
“And to you, sir.”
The Norman Residence
New Salisbury, Pennsylvania
“And then he said, ‘Wrecked ‘em? Damn near killed ‘em!’”
The small group gathered around the porch table roared with laughter, and Ennis sat back, wiping a tear from his eye. He’d always loved that joke, and it was good to pass such things on to the next generation. He caught sight of his granddaughter chasing the dog in the yard and smiled, wondering, as he often did, about the kind of world that she would grow up in.
At least now he knew that she would grow up. And that he had a granddaughter to begin with. He looked over at his Madeline, his daughter and the young girl’s mom, and smiled again. He had never been happier, he thought.
His son, Michael, spoke up from the other side of the table as he took some potatoes off the plate Renee passed him. “So, Madam President, have the treatments been finished, then?”
The president set down her glass of iced tea, a luxury only recently returned to the now-bustling trade town of New Salisbury. “Michael, please, I’ve told you, it’s Angela when I’m here at dinner. No fuss, remember?”
They all laughed again, as it was about the hundredth time Michael had been reminded. Ennis sat forward and took a bite of the potatoes on his plate and marveled at how Renee and Marjorie had made them taste so good. He looked to his right at his old friend and found her looking back at him. Spooky how she did that sort of thing.
“To answer your question, though, yes, all those wanting the treatments have finished them.”
“So there are still people who don’t want it?”
Gates avoided looking at Ennis, who said nothing. “Yes. Some people have opted out for a variety of reasons, and that’s their right. We don’t force it on anyone.”
“Is it true that it changes people? That we’re not human anymore?”
Ennis snorted. “Michael, you’re twenty-nine years old. Why do you believe everything you hear?”
“People been sayin’—”
“People been sayin’ shit for my whole life, boy. Don’t make a word of it true. People like to talk about shit they don’t know a damned thing about, riling folks up and making a mess.” Ennis felt a slight tension in his chest and closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths. He waited for the tension to ease, and when he opened his eyes again, everyone was staring at him. “I’m fine,” he grumbled.
Gates continued with a concerned look at her oldest friend. “To answer your question, Mike, yes and no. It makes anyone who takes it immune to bites, but it also changes their descendants. Future generations will be immune to the prion, meaning no more zombies. It may take a generation or two, and there may be unforeseen side effects. We just don’t know yet, but what we do know is that it’s our only option if we want to survive as a species.”
The summer lunch had taken a darker turn with all this talk, and it didn’t help that Gates’s security detail, not to mention his own, were hovering over all of them like hawks. Renee saved the day, though, as usual, by calling over his granddaughter, Reese, and her brothers, William and Samuel. All of them were giggling, having chased each other around the yard for an hour, and brightened the mood considerably.
One of Gates’s security team leaned and whispered in her ear, and the president stiffened. “Thank you, Kelly.” She turned to the others. “Everyone, I’m sorry, I have to go. There’s a situation I have to deal
with.”
Ennis started to stand up until he felt a hand on his arm. Looking down, he saw Renee looking back at him.
“It’s her job now, Ennis,” Renee said, her eyes firm but filled with love. “Your place is here.”
Ennis smiled and sat back down. He watched Gates and her detail pile into the Humvee and take off for parts unknown, then sighed and sat back as he watched his grandchildren go back out to play. Maybe this retirement thing wasn’t so bad after all.
One mile southwest of Bunker Five
Mount Davis, Pennsylvania
Gates climbed out of the Humvee as it slid to a stop in the small wooded clearing. The sun was bright, but the day was cool with a breeze, and she could smell the fragrance of a summer meadow. The peaceful, clear weather did absolutely nothing to take her mind off the scene before her, however.
Seven walkers lay in various states in a row on the ground, guarded by two AEGIS personnel from the bunker. Their clothes were tattered, and most of them were desiccated and dry, but there were a few that were… Well, juicy was the term that sprang to Gates’s mind, as horrible as that word was in this case.
“Any more out there?” she asked, and one of the soldiers stepped forward. Angela read the name SORRELL on his uniform and saw a captain’s bars.
“Not yet, ma’am. Still got the rest of the team looking, though.”
“This is the first attack we’ve had in, what, a year?” Gates walked over to the walkers, and the guards stood back for her. “Is that why you called the president out? For some walkers?”
“Eighteen months, ma’am, give or take. Ma’am, wouldn’t get too close.”
“I appreciate your zeal, Captain, but it’s not my first zombie.”
“Very well, ma’am.”
As she inspected them, Gates noticed the difference in the state of the walkers up close even more than at a distance. She saw one fat one, and something tugged at her memory as she examined its face. She couldn’t quite place it. “Captain, has anyone searched these walkers?”
The Dying of the Light (Book 3): Beginning Page 48
