by Jake Bible
The shouting on the porch reaches a crescendo then stops abruptly. Val hurries to the window, smiles, then turns away, shaking her head.
“They making out?” Collin asks.
“Like teenagers,” Val says.
“You going to get a little piece from your doctor boy before you head out?” Collin asks. “Might ease the tension.”
“Great,” Val sighs and moves towards her bedroom. “The last bit of advice I get from my father is to go bone my boyfriend before being sent on a suicide mission. I have to wonder if humanity may not be better just dying off. Especially if you’re going to have anything to do with its future.”
“Cheers,” Collin says and raises the jar again.
***
“Mates! Listen up!” Kevin Ross shouts from behind the armory cage. “All essential supplies have already been moved! What I have for you is ammunition, as much as you can carry, one ration kit each, one box of glow sticks each, one set of NVGs each, and four frags each. That is it.” He motions to the almost empty shelves behind him. “Everything else is gone so do not ask.”
“Rappel gear?” Cole asks. “We were told to get that.”
“Rappel gear? Why?” Kevin asks.
“In case we have to drop from the helicopter fast without breaking our fucking legs,” Stanford says. “You know, the little things.”
“Right. Sorry. I forgot about the helicopter. Not something I’m used to. No rappel gear,” Kevin says. “Because no one told me to hold that back. It is already crated and moved.”
“Why?” Val asks. “Are people going to do some rappelling in the new Stronghold? Is it that big?”
“You have no idea,” Kevin says.
“No, we don’t,” Diaz says. “Because we haven’t seen it yet.”
“You haven’t?” Kevin asks. “Oh. Well, yes, it’s that big. Several levels and sectors. It’s almost as big inside as the Stronghold here outside.”
“Lucky you,” Henshaw says.
“What do you mean?” Kevin asks. “Lucky for all of us. Plenty of room for the residents we have now and any future generations. It’s what the place was designed for.”
“You don’t know?” Stanford asks. “He doesn’t know.”
“I don’t know what?” Kevin frowns. “If there is something about this mission I need to know then tell me now. Supplies are limited, but I don’t want to send you guys in there without enough gear.”
“We probably aren’t coming back,” Cole says. “Commander Lee won’t say it outright, but this is a one way trip.”
“Fuck me,” Kevin says, which surprises many there since he rarely cusses. He holds up a hand and then disappears into the gloom of the armory shelves. “Hold on!”
“Because we would go where?” Stanford calls after him.
They hear a lot of grunting and muttering then Kevin shows back up, a very heavy looking box weighing down his arms.
“A little help, please,” he says.
Diaz and Alastair move through the armory door and take the box from him, carrying it back out to the waiting and curious Mates.
“Those are something I cooked up after the Code Monkey attack,” Kevin explains. “Inside are containers with concentrated phosphorous strapped to a detonator and a half pound of C4.”
“Jesus, why would you make this shit?” Alastair says, stepping away from the box as Diaz opens it and picks up a wrapped pack with a wired button protruding from the center.
“You have to prime the detonator,” Kevin explains. “Press the button twice and then hold it for two seconds. Once you let go, you have about thirty seconds before the charge builds and the bomb goes off.”
“Thirty seconds?” Cole asks. “What kind of range does this thing have?”
“The C4 will take out anything within fifty meters,” Kevin says. “But it’s the phosphorous that does the real magic. That will fly for half a mile easy with that much force. It’ll set anything it touches on fire.”
“Why the fuck would you make these?” Alastair asks. “Thirty seconds is not enough time to drop this and get clear. If the blast doesn’t rip us apart then the phosphorous will eat right through us.”
“You said this was a one way mission,” Kevin replies. “I made these bombs as a last resort option. They’re meant for volunteers to run into a herd and rip it apart from the inside.”
“One way bombs,” Cole says. “Thanks, Kevin. These may come in handy.”
“Really?” Alastair says. “Fuck.”
“Gear up, people,” Cole orders. “We’ll take everything to the helicopter and then grab a couple hours shut eye before dawn hits and we’re off. Check and double check your kits. I do not want any surprises out in the field, am I understood?”
“What he said,” Stanford says.
“Ditto,” Henshaw says.
***
“I do not think she can fly this thing!” Hamish shouts as mechanics hurry to push the helicopter out of the warehouse and into the dawn lit parking lot. “As a medical professional—”
“You have to get paid to be a professional,” Stanford says. “Which you don’t.”
“None of us do,” Diaz says.
“We get ration tickets,” Alastair says. “That’s the same, right? I’m unclear on the whole getting paid thing.”
“Old world problems,” Shep says.
“As a doctor, I am saying that this woman is not fit to fly,” Hamish explains, glaring at the Mates. “The wound in her side is not healing as fast as she says it is. With every exertion, she is making it worse. I have cleaned it out and stitched it up, but one more fight and she could tear it wide open.”
“I’ll be flying, not fighting,” Sister says, her hands on her hips, her eyes locked onto Hamish. “The fighting starts when I land.”
“Exactly!” Hamish nearly shouts. “Then who will fly the helicopter back here? Not you because you’ll be dead.”
“Jesus, he doesn’t know either,” Cole says then shuts his mouth quickly as he sees the look on Val’s face. “Shit. Sorry.”
“I don’t know what?” Hamish asks. No one responds as all eyes turn to Val. “I do not have much time, people. I have patients to move and supplies that still need packing. Will someone please tell me what I don’t know?”
“That could take a while,” Stanford says.
“Give me a minute?” Val asks, looking at Commander Lee. The woman nods. “Thank you.”
Val takes Hamish by the arm and leads him out of earshot of the others. She puts her hands on his cheeks and pulls his face to hers, their lips parting. The kiss is long and passionate.
“Okay, that was nice, but what is going on, Val?” Hamish asks.
“We aren’t coming back,” Val states bluntly. “We have no idea what may be down there and the odds just aren’t in our favor.”
“What? No, you’re coming back,” Hamish says. “You have to. You’re DTA. DTA comes back.”
“We’re just Mates now,” Val says. “DTA, DTB, doesn’t matter. We’re all that is left of the Teams. Even if we survive and somehow make it back up here, you will probably have the doors closed by then. You’ll have to or the Z herd will get inside.”
“Then we open the doors back up,” Hamish snaps. “It’s not that hard to figure out.”
“Doesn’t work that way,” Val says. “Once the doors close, they stay closed for a long time.”
“What?” Hamish cries. “Commander Lee never said anything about the doors staying closed!”
“What do you mean?” Val asks.
“Everyone thinks this will be for a couple of months,” Hamish says. “That we’re going inside to wait out the herd. We’ve been told that the Teams are going to a hidden base that has weapons that will wipe out the Zs, once and for all. Once the area is clear, we get to come back outside. Sure, we’ll have a lot of rebuilding to do when we emerge, but that’s just some sweat and labor.”
“Are you joking?” Val asks. “My god. No wonder everyone is pac
king up and moving without freaking out. I can’t believe Aunt Maura lied to the whole Stronghold.”
Val looks back at the group of Mates and the stoic Commander Lee standing next to them all. She shakes her head and looks back at her love.
“Don’t tell her you know the truth,” Val says. “You keep this to yourself until she makes the announcement. If word gets out then there will be panic. You know what happens when people panic.”
“People get hurt,” Hamish says. “I know. I’ll stay quiet. But only because I’m a doctor and won’t let folks freak out and hurt themselves or others.”
“Thank you,” Val says and kisses him again.
They stay that way for a while until someone clears a throat from directly behind them.
“Time to go,” Commander Lee says.
“Yes, sir,” Val says. She pries herself from Hamish’s grip then rushes back to her comrades.
“She told you,” Commander Lee states.
“Let’s not talk about it,” Hamish says. “Ever.”
“Fair enough,” Commander Lee nods.
They walk closer and watch the Teams load up into the helicopter.
Sister climbs into the front and starts flipping switches. She looks over and gives Commander Lee a thumbs up then takes a deep breath. She flips one last switch and the engines sputter, sputter, fire up, cough hard, sputter, and die.
“Maybe they aren’t going anywhere,” Hamish says, his voice sounding very relieved.
There is shouting and swearing from the helicopter as Sister slams her fists against the instrument panel over and over.
“Dammit, she’s going to hurt herself,” Hamish says.
The side cargo door slides open and Val, Diaz, Cole, and Stanford all jump out.
“What are you doing, Mates?” Commander Lee shouts. “This mission is not over.”
“I have an idea,” Val says. “I think I know what will help the fuel system.”
The four Mates take off running towards the center of town.
Sister just glares out the side window at Commander Lee.
Chapter Eight- Come Die With Me! Come Die, Come Die Away!
The helicopter soars over the massive Z herd, the sound of its rotors barely blocking out the combined groans and moans from the ocean of undead below.
The Mates stare out the windows at the impossible size of the herd, their eyes wide and shocked despite their experiences in the wasteland.
Seated in the cargo area, all looking a little green in the gills, are Cole, Diaz, and Alastair from DTA. Stanford, Shep, Carlotta, Lang, and Tommy Bombs from DTB1 are across from them with Billy and Santiago from DTB2 and Henshaw from DTB4 wedged between.
Off to himself, looking a lot sicker than the others, his eyes closed and arm strapped to his side, sits Scotty Kurowski from DTB4. Henshaw keeps glancing at him then back at Cole.
After a few minutes, she finally speaks up.
“As his TL, I’m not cool with this!” she shouts over the rotor noise. “He should be back with the others and tended to!”
“It was his choice!” Cole yells. “He wanted to go out like a Mate, not like some patient waiting to be put out of his misery! Hamish cleared him for twenty-four hours!”
“He can’t fight!” Henshaw argues. “He’s only good for bait or as a decoy!”
“Both of which we may need!” Stanford shouts, joining in. “None of us are getting out of this alive anyway!”
“Maybe!” Henshaw says. “Maybe not getting out alive!”
“Keep dreaming, TL!” Stanford laughs. “Just keep dreaming!”
Up front in the pilot’s seat, Sister grips the steering stick and throttle, her body looking relaxed and comfortable for the first time since joining the Teams. In the co-pilot’s seat sits Val, looking the complete opposite of relaxed and comfortable as her hands grip her seat, her knuckles nearly pure white.
“Nice of your dad to give up his hooch!” Sister says. Val doesn’t respond. Sister grabs a headset sitting on the dash and tosses it at her. “Put those on!”
Val puts on the headset and gives Sister a questioning look.
“I said it was nice of your dad to give up his hooch,” Sister repeats, her voice clear in Val’s headset. “Very one for all of him.”
“Yeah, he gave it up like a toddler gives up a cookie snatched right from his hands,” Val says. “The hard part was getting the rest from Bullet without getting shot. I think Kevin would have been jealous to see the stash of guns Bullet had hidden close to his still. He had almost as much as the armory.”
“So, now the Stronghold has more guns and we have the right mixture of fuel,” Sister says. “It all works out.”
“Yeah, sure, it all works out,” Val says.
“He’ll be fine,” Sister says. “Your Hamish. He’ll be fine. If we don’t make it back then he’ll grieve like everyone else, be a Gloomy Gus for a few months, heal, and move on.”
“Gee, great, I feel so much better now,” Val says.
Sister laughs and shakes her head.
“What?” Val snaps. “You think this is funny?”
“I think you’re all spoiled children that have no idea how good you’ve had it over these years,” Sister says. “I’ve lost more family than you can ever know. Lovers, friends, sisters. All of them are dead. I’ve been alone for a very long time. You’ve at least gotten to be with people, to be loved, to be held, to be a human being for longer than a half hour.”
“Longer than a half hour?” Val asks. “What does that mean?”
Sister flips a couple of switches and the helicopter levels out. She lets go of the controls and makes an okay sign with one hand. Then slips an index finger through the hole back and forth, back and forth.
“Oh, alright, alright, I get it. You can stop now,” Val says.
Sister grabs the controls again and flips the switch back. The two women are silent for a couple minutes.
“Who the hell have you been having sex with?” Val blurts out. “It’s the wasteland.”
“A girl gets it when she can get it,” Sister says. “A woman takes it when she wants it. I may be old, but I still got it where it counts. Bumping uglies isn’t just for the young, Little Baptiste.”
“Okay, enough, I really don’t want to hear more,” Val says, holding up a hand. “Seriously. Don’t tell me more.”
“Wasn’t going to,” Sister says. “I need to concentrate on flying anyway. All the fires below are creating thermal things. Thermal things suck.”
“Thermal things?” Val asks.
The helicopter shudders and jerks to the left and Val nearly shrieks. There are a few shouts from the back, but Sister gets the helicopter straightened out and everyone calms down.
“Thermal things,” Sister says. “Hot air that pushes up. I’m trying to fly between the fires, but there’re too many.”
Val looks out her window and agrees with Sister. Basically all of Denver is ablaze. Thick, black smoke rises like ethereal flowers blooming high into the sky. Sister does her best to dodge around the columns of smoke, but the wind is picking up and the gaps between the fires disappear with each gust.
Val tries not to panic when their visibility turns to zero for a couple of seconds then returns as they push through the smoke. Sister has a wide grin on her face each time they come out on the other side. The grin slips when they shoot through a fourth column.
“What is it?” Val asks. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Sister says.
“Bullshit,” Val says. “What did you see?”
“Nothing,” Sister repeats.
Val looks out her window and down at the burning city. All she sees is sector after sector lost to quickly spreading flames. She cranes her neck to get a view of what they just passed, and is about turn her head back when she sees it. The water tower.
“Fitzpatrick!” Val shouts. “She’s still alive!”
“Yes, she is,” Sister replies, coldly.
“We have
to go back for her!” Val yells. “We can’t leave her there!”
“We don’t have time,” Sister responds.
“Then we make time, dammit!” Val shouts. She yanks off the headphones, unbuckles, and scrambles into the cargo hold. “Cole! Fitzpatrick is alive down there! She was waving to us as we flew by!”
“What?” Cole shouts.
“I said that Fitzpatrick is alive!” Val says.
“I know what you said, I just don’t believe it,” Cole yells. “Is Sister turning around for her?”
“No!” Val shouts.
“Fuck,” Cole grumbles. He unbuckles and pushes past Val. “Hey!”
“Hey, yourself!” Sister responds. “We’re not going back!”
“Yes, we are!” Cole says. “We could use the extra Mate. This mission could come down to us having one more shooter with us! Don’t tell me you don’t know that!”
Sister turns her head and glares at Cole. He starts to get a little anxious that she’s not looking out the windshield and at where she’s flying, but the anxiety dissolves as she nods to him.
“Fine,” she says. “We go back. She gets one chance to climb aboard. If she can’t cut it then she won’t be any good to us anyway. Deal?”
“Deal,” Cole says.
“Cole!” Val shouts as she shoves past him and back to her seat. “We have to give her more than one chance! She doesn’t know how to climb into this thing!”
“And we don’t have time to teach her!” Cole says. “No arguments, Val! One shot and then we go! The mission is all that matters or there is no point in all of our friends and family getting locked up for a couple centuries just for their descendants to emerge into a wasteland still full of Zs!”
“Exactly,” Sister shouts. “Now buckle up, buttercup! Shit gonna get bumpy!”
Sister yanks on the stick and the helicopter banks to the right as she turns it around. Cole has to struggle not to fall over. Everyone has to struggle not to throw up.
***
On an intellectual level, Fitzpatrick knows what she’s looking at. It’s a helicopter. She also knows all of the faces that stare out at her from the cargo hold windows. She doesn’t know the face of the pilot, though, and that worries her slightly.
