by Jake Bible
“Which is?” Cole asks.
“The real Stronghold,” Commander Lee says.
“I kept telling him that and he was all like, hey, what’s the real Stronghold crap? And I was all like, hey, just chill and wait for Commander Lee,” Sister says. She snorts and smiles as if she’s said the greatest joke ever.
“Yes, well, the real Stronghold is an immense and secure bunker below Boulder,” Commander Lee says. “While it has been commonly known that the former NORAD was housed in the Cheyenne Mountain facility, that is only partially true. There is an ancillary control room there where operations can be handled and commanded, if needed, but the main facility was moved.”
“Secure bunker location for what?” Stanford asks. “And why the hell haven’t we been there all this time? Secure bunker location is a lot better than open air location with only a wall between us and the Zs.”
“That is a good question,” Commander Lee says. “And I am not surprised it came from you, Stanford.”
“Why do I feel like that was an insult more than a compliment?” Stanford asks.
“The real Stronghold is secure for one reason only: because once the doors close, they stay closed for at least a century, if not longer,” Commander Lee says, ignoring her son’s second question. “This ensures that the Zs cannot breach the facility because of a lapse in judgment by, say, panicked or confused occupants.”
“You mean so when the cabin fever nutjobs that will eventually lose their shit decide to go crazy and run out the front door, letting in God knows what stumble through to kill everyone inside,” Stanford says. He looks around the room at everyone. “In case the subtext wasn’t clear.”
“Thanks, Ford,” Cole says. “I couldn’t have guessed that for myself.”
“I’m here to help, buddy,” Stanford says.
“Which you are not doing,” Commander Lee snaps. “Please be quiet, son, or I will remove you from your commission as Team Leader and give that to Mate Baptiste here.”
“Val wouldn’t take it,” Stanford says. “She’s the most loyal cousin a man could—”
“Like hell I wouldn’t,” Val laughs. “You’re on your own, Mr. Foot-In-Mouth.”
“Oh, the betrayal,” Stanford says then yelps as Sister smacks him upside the head. “Ow! What the hell?”
“Shut up and listen to your mother,” Sister snaps then yanks up her shirt to show everyone the oozing wound in her side. “I still have to drain this fucker and get Val’s lover boy to stitch it up so I can kick more ass than all of you combined. You are slowing that down, dipshit. Knock it off.”
“Okay. Sorry,” Stanford mumbles.
“From what you all have told me, we do not have much time to get everyone inside the Stronghold and close those doors,” Commander Lee says, moving on. “When the herd hits the walls and gate, it’ll be only a matter of hours before the crush of their bodies breaches this sanctuary and the streets are filled with Zs. When that happens, we need to be inside and locked down permanently.”
“Okay, so let’s do that,” Cole says.
“You think it’s going to be that simple?” Henshaw asks him. “It’s not. Why else would we be here?”
“Exactly, TL Henshaw,” Commander Lee says. “It’s not that simple. It should have been, but time has not been on our side. Or the effects of time. Specifically the effects of time on machinery and electronics built well over a century ago.”
“The nukes won’t launch on their own,” Sister says. All eyes turn to her. “What? They won’t.”
“Why the fuck would we want them to?” Cole asks.
“So we don’t have to go to Cheyenne Mountain and launch them ourselves. Duh,” Sister says. “Keep up, Wright. Sheesh.”
“What Sister is trying to say in her own unique way is that part of the plan, once everyone has been transferred safely into our new Stronghold, is for the nuclear arsenal of the former United Sates of America to be at our command,” Commander Lee says. “An arsenal that we need to launch in order to cleanse the major cities, and quite a bit of the land, of the herds and herds of Zs that have overtaken everything.”
“Everyone’s dead,” Sister says. “Except for just a couple of pockets that may survive the big booms and flashes. Other than those peoples, there ain’t no more left. They’re all Zs now. And Zs don’t die. If we don’t fry them then when the doors open in a century or two, there will still be herds of Zs.”
“That’s not possible,” Santiago says. “They’ll starve.”
“If only that were the case, TL Santiago,” Commander Lee says.
“TL?” Val asks then holds up a hand. “Sorry.”
“Yes, Santiago has been promoted to TL,” Commander Lee says. “Not that there is a Team for him to lead. But I figured he deserved the promotion before you are all deployed.”
“Zs don’t starve,” the single-minded Sister continues. “They feed off sunlight when they can’t feed off peoples. Good thing cannies can’t do that, right? Right?”
“Yeah, right,” Stanford says. He hooks a thumb back at Sister. “She’s not sane, is she?”
“That is debatable,” Commander Lee says. “But Sister’s sanity is not the issue. What she said is 100% correct. The Zs are feeding off sunlight to keep going. We do not know how or why, but the phenomenon was documented back when this place was founded. It is why there are sometimes very fast Zs. They get an energy boost from the sun as well as from fresh food.”
“So we have to push the button that makes the big missiles function,” Sister says. “Because there’s nothing worse than missile dysfunction.”
She laughs hard and loud then slowly quiets down when she realizes she’s the only one.
“Miss-isle dysfunction? No one?” she says. “You people suck.”
“The remote connection from the Stronghold to Cheyenne Mountain has been locked,” Commander Lee says.
“The Code Monkeys have done all the hard stuff,” Sister says. “They’ve got everything ready to launch. What they didn’t have ready, they will by the time we get there. I made sure of that.”
“Hold on a minute!” Cole snaps. “She’s been helping the Code Monkeys?”
“No!” Sister exclaims. “Well, yes. But they don’t know that. I just made sure they found the last of the launch codes in my coat.” She sighs. “I miss that coat.”
“We needed the Code Monkeys to do all the prep and get the nuclear missiles ready for launch,” Commander Lee says. “We know they have been to the silos and made sure the missiles are ready. The next step was to make sure they had everything in Cheyenne ready as well. The only problem is they can’t initiate the actual launch. We were going to do that from here, but we can’t anymore. The Teams go down, deal with the Code Monkeys in Cheyenne, restore the launch connection, complete the mission, and come back here before we seal the Stronghold for good.”
“Oh, that’s all?” Stanford laughs. “Then sign me up.”
“You’re already signed up,” Cole says. “You’re a TL.”
“I was being sarcastic,” Stanford replies.
“Me too,” Cole says.
“You two finished?” Commander Lee glares. “You leave first thing in the morning. Tell your Mates so they can say goodbye to loved ones. This isn’t a suicide mission, but it is not going to be easy. Have your people tie up loose ends before they go so I don’t have to do it for them once the Stronghold doors close.”
No one responds. They all sit there and look anywhere except at Commander Lee.
“I still don’t get why I’m here,” Val says. “I mean, I’ll go on the mission with all of the other Mates, but why am I in this room right now?”
“I wanted to make sure you knew what the stakes were,” Commander Lee says. She sighs heavily and glances at Sister. “There is one more issue. The launch control switch can only be initiated by genetic marker confirmation. This is why the Code Monkeys can’t launch on their own. We need your genetic marker, Mate Baptiste.”
; “You’re related to Granny G,” Sister says. “On your mother’s side. Her genetic marker is one of the ones needed to authorize the launch of a full scale strike.”
Everyone is slightly taken aback at Sister’s tone of voice. The weirdness is gone. The affectations and strange dialect are gone. She sounds sane, serious, and like a woman that has carried a heavy load for a very long time.
“You said genetic markers. Plural,” Stanford says to his mother. “Whose is the other one?”
“Mine,” Sister says. “I’ll be there with you the whole way.”
“Great,” Stanford replies. “But still one more issue.”
“Got that covered,” Sister says and gives him a thumbs up.
“You don’t even know what I’m going to say,” Stanford snaps.
“Yes, I do,” Sister responds. “You want to know how we get to Cheyenne Mountain when there are a million Zs in our way, right?”
“Yeah, I’d like to know that too,” Cole says, looking at Commander Lee. “That truck of hers is not going to be able to get us through the herd. Not as far as we need to go.”
“Who said anything about a truck?” Sister says. “Whubba whubba whubba whubba.”
“I have no idea what the hell that noise means,” Cole says. “Commander?”
“That is where we are going next,” Commander Lee sighs. “Sister? Please? That noise is giving me a headache.”
“Man, you guys really suck,” Sister says. “Like suck hard. The suckiest. So much suck.”
“We get it!” Stanford nearly shouts. “Holy crap, you are annoying.”
“Now you know how it feels,” Val says and gives Cole a high five.
“Ha freakin’ ha,” Stanford pouts.
***
Sister lets out such a long and loud string of curses that even the battle hardened and foul-mouthed Mates have to wince. After several uncomfortable minutes, Sister finally calms down, her face flushed and her hand at her side, clutching her wound that she insists is not a problem no matter how many people try to tell her to go see Hamish ASAP.
“You said it would be ready,” Sister says, her eyes burning with anger as she turns to Commander Lee. “Why isn’t it ready?”
“I have had my best mechanics and engineers on it,” Commander Lee says. “Structurally it is as sound as it was when it was first built. The engines are proving to be tougher than we thought. They weren’t designed to use hemp oil as a fuel source. My mechanics are afraid we’ll gum up the engines if we keep trying to start them with hemp oil.”
“Well, yeah, you’ll gum up the engines,” Sister says. “That’s why you have to cut the oil with kerosene. I told you that.”
“The kerosene you gave us was at least a hundred years old,” Commander Lee says. “We checked a sample and it won’t ignite properly either. It’s too weak. My mechanics—”
“Your mechanics are idiots that don’t know shit about helicopters!” Sister yells. She presses her hand to her side harder and winces, bending over slightly. “Son of a cocking bitch.”
“This is a real helicopter?” Cole asks, staring at the huge machine before them all. It fills half the warehouse that sits on the edge of the Stronghold. The rest of the warehouse is filled with work tables and a massive array of spare parts, both clean and covered in gunk and grease. “Are we riding in that?”
“Not if we don’t have fuel,” Sister snaps. “Jesus shit.”
“Hamish is on the way,” Val says. “I sent a Runner to get him when I saw you wince on the walk over.”
“You did?” Sister asks, looking at Val. “But I didn’t wince.”
“Yes, you did,” Val says. “We all saw it, but didn’t say anything.”
“Huh,” Sister responds. “I’m losing my touch.”
She points at the helicopter, what was once called a Bell UH-1, or Huey, and stands up straight, a thin sheen of sweat on her forehead.
“Get those drums of kerosene and mix them fifty-fifty with the biodiesel,” Sister orders. “It is not ideal, and may still cause issues, but I can get us down to the Cheyenne Mountain entrance, at least.”
“What about getting us back?” Henshaw asks. “Or are we not coming back?”
“Ideally, you will come back and before we have to close the Stronghold’s doors,” Commander Lee says.
“But the mission is priority and we will do whatever it takes to complete that mission,” Stanford says. “Right, Mother?”
“It’s your job,” Commander Lee replies.
“Yay for gainful employment,” Stanford says.
“Better than latrine duty,” Val says. “Ask my father.”
“Right. Ask your father about how he feels when he’s safe and cozy inside the new Stronghold while we’re getting eaten to death by Zs and cannibals,” Stanford replies. “Oh, wait, you won’t be able to ask your father because you’ll be down in Cheyenne Mountain playing genetic push button with the crazy lady here.”
“You done?” Cole asks. “Because the rest of us are ready to take our duties seriously and do whatever it takes to keep our friends, neighbors, and families safe.”
“Thanks for the guilt trip, Cole,” Stanford says. “But I know why we’re doing it. I’m just not happy about it.”
“Shut up,” Sister says. “All of you. Not one of you knows about sacrifice. Trust me on that one. You are all just children playing at adult games.” She points a finger at Commander Lee. “You too, Maura Lee. Children. You were taught the military life, taught that the Teams are everything, but I don’t think any of you shit fuckers really knows why. I do. We are getting in this chopper and flying down to Cheyenne Mountain to save the human race. Not just your friends and families, but the whole damn species! So I don’t want to hear one more whiny word about not coming back! We either do or we don’t! Get used to it!”
She sits down on the concrete, her ass thunking hard against the pockmarked surface.
“Ow,” she whispers. “Where’s that doctor?”
“Here!” Dr. Hamish Terlington shouts as he runs into the warehouse. “But I don’t see why she couldn’t…have…been…brought to…me…”
Hamish trails off as he sees the helicopter.
“Wow. Does it work?” he asks.
Sister shakes her head. “It will once it’s fixed finally. Same with me, Doc. Now get over here and stitch me up. I got a whirly bird to fly.”
“Whirly bird?” Henshaw whispers to Val. “I can barely understand this woman half the time. She’s supposed to save the Stronghold?”
“No, we’re supposed to save the Stronghold,” Val says. “She’s supposed to save us.”
“How do you figure?” Henshaw asks.
“I don’t know,” Val says. “Gut feeling.”
“Hope that gut is better than hers,” Henshaw says, nodding towards Sister.
The woman is glaring at Hamish as he lifts her shirt and starts scolding her for not coming to see him right away.
***
“Do you think we get to see the real Stronghold?” Val asks as she and Stanford walk through the almost deserted streets towards her house.
“I doubt it,” Stanford says. “We have to be back to the helicopter within the hour. Mom gave us one chance to grab up whatever belongings we want taken inside. You know, in case we do come back.”
He laughs sourly at the thought and shakes his head.
“You know your mom loves you, right?” Val says. “She’s just in a hard position as commander and mother to a TL. She wants you to come back. Shit, Ford, she wants all of us to come back. But we’re part of the Teams and coming back isn’t always an option. That’s the life we live.”
“Yeah. You keep telling yourself that,” Stanford snorts.
They reach Val’s house and stop.
“Oh,” Val says. “Now I get it. Sorry. I’ll leave you two to talk.”
“Don’t bother,” Stanford says, his eyes locked onto the man sitting on Val’s porch. “I’ll help get your stuff so we can
go to my apartment next and get my crap. Fuck this guy.”
“Seriously, Ford?” Benji Chase says as Val and Stanford walk up the steps. “You’re just going to toss me aside because we had a fight? Toss me aside when you know we may never see each other again?”
“You said it was over, asshole,” Stanford snaps. “I didn’t toss anyone aside. You did.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Benji replies. “You’re just scared because I mentioned the L word.”
“Lesbian?” Val asks then cringes from the glares she receives. “I’ll be inside. Out in about five minutes.”
She walks through the door and is glad to leave the two men as they start snapping and shouting at each other.
“Nothing like two queers going at it on your own front porch,” Collin says, sitting in a chair in the front room, a jar of clear liquid in his hand.
“I thought you were helping get people to the Stronghold,” Val says. “But I can see something more important came up.”
“Sheriff Marsh sent me home when I yelled at Mrs. Van Duyn for running over my toe with her cart,” Collin says, lifting the jar and tipping it slightly in her direction. “Want a sip?”
“No, thanks,” Val says. “I’m just going to get a box of stuff together I want you to take into the Stronghold. Some stuff from Mom and some of John’s old things.”
“Why?” Collin asks. “That’s just junk. Won’t help us survive.”
“Maybe it isn’t about just surviving anymore, Dad,” Val says. “Maybe it’s about remembering so that when future generations want to know who they are, where they came from, they will have some answers sitting in a box.”
“Only answer I need is here in this jar,” Collin says. “And Bullet has assured me we’ll have enough of this to last for years. Between my cart, his cart, and a few others, we’re using our space allotment to keep the party rolling, baby.”
“Great,” Val says. “I couldn’t be prouder.”
