The Rising Horde, Volume One (Sequel to The Gathering Dead )

by Stephen Knight

  “The president has already left, General. For the moment, I’ll remain at the Pentagon. Please continue.”

  Shockley nodded. “Miami has a substantial infestation ripping through the Cuban quarter of Little Havana that is, for all intents and purposes, uncontrollable by the Miami police department. We’re getting some military assistance lined up for them out of Homestead, but it’s going to take a while, and the reality is, we’re probably going to lose Miami the same way we lost the New York City area. And speaking of that, the entire Tenth Mountain Division has been pushed back out of the Bronx and is withdrawing as the horde advances into Westchester County. We’re back to the previous tactics we tried before: block as many streets and avenues as possible, start fires, and try to burn out the infestation.

  “Baltimore and Charlotte both have outbreaks, but they are under control for the moment. There was a reported outbreak right here in Arlington, but that was put down by the local police. However, we’re remaining vigilant. We have outbreaks that are growing in severity in Virginia Beach and Norfolk, and another in Richmond which is almost a full-blown infestation. You may have seen on the news that Richmond is one giant inferno now, and the stream of evacuees is so large that it’s difficult to search every person for signs they’ve been in contact with the zeds. Infected individuals are getting past us, and there’s not much we can do about it because we’ve got our hands full trying to contain the necromorphs. It would be of great help if the president were to establish martial law for at least the eastern half of the country, if not all of it. No reported outbreaks in Atlanta, Charleston, and Savannah at the moment.”

  “I’ll bring it up. What else, General?”

  Shockley referred to the map again. “The latest intel we have regarding outbreaks and infestations is that while the eastern seaboard is our current center of gravity, we do have outbreaks as far west as New Orleans. We’re relying on National Guard units to do the heavy lifting that local law enforcement can’t. But getting federal troops directly involved is going to help us gain ground. We have to move fast, Mister Secretary. If there’s any change in the virus’s transmission process, or if another city falls to the dead, then we’re going to be far, far behind the eight ball.”

  The SecDef nodded slowly and then looked across the table at McDaniels. “Major? Tell us about New York, please.”

  “Everything, Mister Secretary, or do you just want the Cliff’s Notes?”

  “I want to know everything that you went through, and what happened to the alpha detachment that went in with you.”

  “Very well. I was assigned to oversee the extraction of a specific high-value asset, an individual named Wolf Safire, who apparently had data on the zed infection. There was talk of a cure, or some sort of inoculation. At the time I received my orders, New York City was already heavily infested. Telecommunications, including cellular and broadband, were no longer available on Manhattan. An under-strength alpha detachment called OMEN was on-post at Fort Bragg, and myself and a senior enlisted trainer from the Swick—ah, the Special Warfare Center at Fort Bragg—”

  “I know what the Swick is, Major.”

  “Sorry, sir. Anyway, we were added to the team. The arrangement was that we would oversee the handling of the asset, while OMEN would provide security. I was not in charge of OMEN; that authority remained with the team executive officer, a warrant officer named Keith.

  “We flew into Teterboro Airport in New Jersey on a C-17. We drove overland to the Upper West Side of Manhattan, secured the asset and a dependent he refused to leave behind, and then made for the Central Park assembly area, where transport helicopters were waiting for us.”

  “Why not just go back the way you’d come?”

  “The reason we didn’t return to New Jersey is that outbound traffic was badly snarled at the George Washington Bridge, and we didn’t want to get caught in it when the stenches broke through the National Guard and NYPD blockades. Flying out of the city was the only option available to us.”

  “Very well. Sorry for the interruption.”

  “We made it to the assembly area without too much trouble, but before we could lift out, the assembly area was overrun. Most of OMEN Team was lost when their helicopter was overwhelmed by the necromorphs on takeoff. Our helicopter had a defective forward-looking infrared device, so we were forced to fly below the smoke layer—all of lower Manhattan was on fire, part of the process to try and stop the zeds from moving uptown. It didn’t work, by the way. A zed managed to jump from one of the buildings and landed right on our Black Hawk’s main rotor. The helicopter crashed in the Upper East Side, and we regrouped in an office building. We were secure there until … until reanimated members of OMEN Team arrived.”

  The SecDef looked around the table. “Why is that significant?”

  “Because OMEN Team retained its ability to respond to situations in a tactical manner.”

  An uncomfortable stir went through the room. The Secretary of Defense glanced first at General Shockley, then over at General Dotson, the top special operator in the room.

  Dotson raised a hand. “Major McDaniels, are you saying that OMEN Team continued to function in an intelligent manner after its members had been reanimated?”

  “I am, sir. At least four or five members of OMEN Team retained the ability to use their weapons, employ ambush tactics, and operate complex machinery.”

  Several people started speaking at once.

  “That’s ridiculous!” The booming voice of Admiral Rennick overwhelmed the rest of the chatter.

  McDaniels said, “Admiral, it’s absolutely true. Speaking as a soldier who was boots on the ground and danger close with the stenches, I recommend that you reconsider that assessment.”

  “Excuse me if I don’t fawn all over you for surviving your encounter, Major. We’ve heard nothing to corroborate what you just said.” Rennick glared, but McDaniels could see the fear in the man’s eyes. General Shockley had said the U.S. was holding the losing end of the stick, and that was enough to scare the piss out of just about anyone.

  “We do have corroboration.” In counterpoint to the admiral’s combative stance, General Walter Dotson’s demeanor was placid, almost sublime. “We’ve heard from the commanding general of the Tenth that they’ve come under fire from fallen soldiers. And that other zeds are exhibiting characteristics that parallel rational thought. Most of the horde is just that: a mindless horde, incapable of thinking of anything other than feeding. But a very small percentage of the necros can apparently retain some skill sets. And some of those skill sets allow them to do things we hadn’t expected, such as setting up ambushes.”

  Rennick shook his head. “You need to go back to that division commander and tell him that he’s—”

  “Quiet!” the SecDef ordered. “Admiral Rennick, get yourself under control, or leave this meeting. We don’t have the time for this kind of back-and-forth. Pull yourself together!”

  Rennick fell silent, his jaw set.

  The SecDef leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, and nodded to McDaniels. “Continue, Major. And tell us more about these, ah, these… do they have a name? These zombies that can apparently think?”

  “We call them ‘super zeds’ at the moment, sir,” Shockley said.

  The SecDef nodded and motioned for McDaniels to continue.

  “The team was killed when their Black Hawk crashed after takeoff. Several zeds jumped aboard before it broke deck, and we didn’t hear anything further from them over the radio. But not all of them came back with intact skills, only a few. I can’t explain why. But they used grenades to gain entrance to the building we were in, and then they engaged us with their weapons. They used weapons in a very conventional manner, with one notable exception: they shot to wound. I presume they did this to restrict our mobility, which would give them a better opportunity to… to feed.”

  The SecDef held up a hand. “Stop there for just one second, Major. Colonel Jeffries, could this ability of the zeds to
retain skills and think be related to the mutation you spoke of?”

  “In my opinion? Almost definitely, Mister Secretary. But we need more analysis of the virus in its current state to reach a conclusive determination. My team at the Rid is working on that.”

  “Let’s come back to that. Back to you, Major McDaniels. How effective are these, uh, super zeds?”

  McDaniels looked around the table, annoyed by the question. More people quietly entered the conference room, but he ignored them. “Mister Secretary, I went in with a Special Forces alpha detachment, augmented by myself and a senior Special Forces trainer with decades of special operations experience. We were additionally plussed-up by several ground control operators from the 160th SOAR. All of those people are dead. I’m the only one who made it out.”

  “Sorry to rain on your parade, Major, but that’s not entirely true.”

  The voice struck McDaniels almost like a physical blow. He bolted to his feet and looked toward the small group of people who had entered the conference room. All wore battle dress uniforms, but one of them—a man of medium height and lean build—wore BDUs that were absolutely filthy, covered with grit and soot, and a Kevlar helmet. His blue eyes gleamed among the grime that covered his face. And like McDaniels, he was the only other soldier in the room who was armed.

  I must be fucking hallucinating …

  “Gartrell,” McDaniels said, hearing the disbelief in his own voice.

  First Sergeant David Gartrell nodded, and a ghost of a smile passed across his face. “Didn’t think you’d be so pleased to see me, Major.”

  McDaniels turned back to the Secretary of Defense. “Sorry, Mister Secretary, I guess the first sergeant managed to escape New York after all.” He looked back at Gartrell. “Though I don’t know how that’s possible.”

  “It’s a long story. But I’m sure there are more important things to talk about.” Gartrell’s voice was flat and hollow, and any amusement he might have felt regarding McDaniels’s sudden discomfiture faded like fog over a desert. He addressed the assemblage, “I’m sorry for the interruption, sirs. I was told to report here.”

  “Sounds like you should be a ghost, First Sergeant,” the SecDef said with a grin.

  “I pretty much am, sir.”

  The SecDef’s smile faded, and he looked back at McDaniels. “Major? You were giving us an on-the-ground assessment of the zeds?”

  McDaniels remembered where he was and what he was doing, and he slowly lowered himself back into his chair. “Uh, yes, sir. As I was saying, some zeds have the ability to do more than just stumble along and look for food. At least a certain percentage of them can retain memories—or at least skills—and use them against us in the field. I can’t figure out the reason behind it, but it’s true. Like I said, reanimated members of OMEN Team used firearms and other weaponry against us and used the appropriate tactics to try and fix us in place by fire.” He looked at Gartrell. “First Sergeant Gartrell, anything you want to add?”

  “Yes, sir. The situation can be more insidious. In my case, I was holed up in an apartment building after the major escaped, and a zed, apparently one who used to live in the building, actually used a key to get in the door.”

  The SecDef nodded. “I can see how that would be… insidious, as you called it.” He looked toward General Shockley. “Are you aware of this change, General?”

  “It came up the line just yesterday, though Major McDaniels is the first to give such a detailed report.”

  “So are we prepared to deal with these super zeds, then?”

  “We are not.” Shockley motioned to the map behind him. “The stenches have the momentum right now, sir. We need martial law declared so we can take the gloves off and get to work.”

  “You’ve made that point already, General.” The SecDef looked back at McDaniels. “Major? Do you have anything else to add? Or you, First Sergeant?”

  “No, sir, nothing further from me,” Gartrell said.

  “Same here, sir. Only to add that I don’t think the military is going to be able to stop this all by itself. Just by looking at the map, the geographic diversity of the threat makes that unlikely.”

  “Colonel Jeffries? When will your analysis of this Doctor Safire’s work be complete?”

  “In just a few hours at the most, Mister Secretary. Quite possibly much sooner. I have my best people on that, and Safire’s daughter is assisting us.”

  The SecDef turned to Dotson. “Do you need those results before we stand up SPARTA, General?”

  Dotson shook his head. “No, sir, we do not. The sooner that starts, the better off we’ll be. With General Shockley’s blessings, I’ve already socialized the plan with the rest of the service chiefs, and I don’t think anyone has any misgivings.” The burly four-star general looked around at his peers. No one questioned him, not even the Navy chief.

  The SecDef nodded. “General Shockley, anything else from your side?”

  “Nothing, sir.”

  “Very well.” He checked his watch, then the Blackberry, and closed his notebook. “I’ll need to leave now to meet with the president. General Shockley, General Dotson, you’re with me. Thank you, everyone.” The SecDef pushed back his chair, and the conference room came alive with activity. As he rose to his feet, he looked across the table and met McDaniels’s eye. “Good work on getting that data out of New York, Major. I realize the cost was high, but it had to be done, and you did it. If things work out, this nation’s going to owe you a great debt.”

  “Thank you, Mister Secretary. But the other soldiers did all of the heavy lifting.”

  The SecDef smiled as he pulled on his suit jacket. “I’m certain you did your share, Major.” He looked at Dotson. “Are we ready?”

  “We are, sir. McDaniels will be briefed by General Abelson.”

  “Good. Let’s go.” The SecDef nodded to McDaniels once again, then headed for the door. When he pulled abreast of Gartrell, he paused. Even though the first sergeant was absolutely filthy from his time in the field, the SecDef shook his hand and thanked him for his service.

  Now there’s a guy I’d vote for, McDaniels thought.

  3

  “Gentlemen, let’s get this out of the way.” Lieutenant General Josiah Abelson’s tone of voice and demeanor were casual, not what you’d expect from the three-star general in charge of all Army special operations forces, especially when the nation was at war on its own soil.

  “What’s that, sir?” McDaniels asked.

  “We need to go over an operations plan, and both you and Gartrell are involved.” The general motioned Gartrell to the table and pointed at one of the high-backed leather chairs at the end. “Sit down there, First Sergeant. You look like you smell pretty damn ripe.”

  “Sorry, General. Haven’t been able to cuddle up to my bar of Irish Spring lately.” Gartrell pulled out a chair and sat.

  “I know you’ve been busy, First Sergeant.” Abelson’s aides hovered behind him, but he ignored them and motioned to an Air Force officer standing two chairs away from McDaniels. The officer was just under six feet in height and wiry in build. His hair was graying and severely thinning, and a well-groomed mustache sat beneath his rather pointed nose. McDaniels noticed the man’s blue uniform trousers were bloused inside his boots.

  “This is Colonel Stanislaw Jaworski,” Abelson continued. “As you can see, he’s an Air Force officer, but we won’t hold that against him, will we?”

  Jaworski showed a faint smile. “Even though I’m a Polish Air Force officer, sir?”

  “I’d make some Polish jokes, but you just wouldn’t understand them. To your right is Major Cordell McDaniels, currently with the J-3 shop at USASOC when he’s not pulling TDY on contingency missions like this one. Across from you is First Sergeant Dave Gartrell, one of the senior trainers at the Special Warfare School at Bragg. Have a seat, Stas,” Abelson finished, as Jaworski shook hands with McDaniels and, stretching across the table, Gartrell. The general pronounced the name as “Stos
h.”

  “Pleased to meet you, gentlemen,” Jaworski said, lowering himself into one of the chairs.

  Abelson’s two staffers went to work, presenting each man with a packet of documents. Abelson looked at McDaniels. “Cord, your wife is safe and sound at Bragg. The entire post is under lockdown, with troops from the Eighty-Second Airborne supplementing base security forces. We’ve had two outbreaks, but they were put down quickly—some returning troops that were infected during another contingency op. No word on your son, though. I’ve asked folks from Fort Hood to look into his disposition, but I haven’t heard anything back yet.”

  McDaniels nodded somberly. Leonard McDaniels was attending his sophomore year of college in Austin, Texas. “That’s mostly good news, sir. Thank you.”

  Abelson sighed. “Gartrell, we can’t find your family. Your residence is empty, and gate security has them on video leaving the post. We found a note in your house, written on a whiteboard. It said, ‘We’re at the cabin.’ I hope that means something to you?”

  “It does. We have a cabin in the Smoky Mountains. Pretty remote, we need a four-wheel drive to get near it, and then ATVs to get the rest of the way. My family knows to go there if there’s any real long-term danger.”

  “I hope they made the right decision. Bragg is currently as safe as it can be.”

  “They made the right call, sir. Believe me, when thirty thousand of the dead decide to go to Bragg, triple layers of concertina wire and the usual fortifications aren’t going to hold them back for long.” Gartrell’s expression was flat, just like his eyes. “If the stenches are going to go for my family, they’ll have to find them first.”

  “Very well, First Sergeant. Then let’s get back to business.” Abelson opened the first packet of documents, and the others mimicked him. “I don’t want this to be a death by PowerPoint event, so I’ll go over the highlights as quickly as possible. You are about to join Joint Task Force SPARTA, which will be commanded by Colonel Jaworski. This joint operation will be overseen by Special Operations Command in Florida. I will have provisional oversight and will be working out of MacDill unless there is an event in which SOCOM is compromised on the ground.”