by Adrian Smith
“This is a tomb,” he said, shaking his head.
“It’s like Okunoin cemetery emptied all the graves to make room for more,” Daisaku said, clutching an arm tight across his chest.
“When hell is full, the dead shall rise,” Allie said.
Daisaku stiffened and turned back. “I always believed that earth was really hell. If you are evil or bad and die, you don’t go to hell. You were already there.”
Ryan stared at the back of Daisuku’s head. Perhaps he was right. He glanced upward, thinking once more of Liam. Of Cal and Zanzi. For the last three years, it certainly had been hell on earth for him.
He checked the door to every room, but they were secured by hand scanners and what looked like a card reader. He had searched the ash as he walked, hoping to find something to gain access but, like the organic material, everything had combusted, unlike in the village above, where it was just the clothes and flesh.
Allie came to a stop and pointed at a door; a meal tray had prevented it from closing. Ryan peeked into a luxurious break room. A coffee machine sat on a marbled bench with bowls of fruit and covered bento boxes. An L-shaped, cream-colored couch was against one wall. Staring at Ryan from behind the couch was a pair of brown eyes, wide and full of fear.
Twenty-Two
Koyasan, Japan
Allie gasped as she spotted the eyes. All the time they had spent avoiding the death squads and sneaking first into the bunker and then into this strange facility, she had forgotten about the possibility of other survivors. It was the ash corpses everywhere: in the temple, out on the street, the university, and here again in the gleaming corridors.
The brown eyes blinked and flicked between Ryan and Allie. She stepped into the room and held her hand out.
“Hey. It’s okay. We’re friends,” Allie said softly.
The eyes continued to blink and flick around for a few moments. Slowly, the owner stood, revealing a boy in his late teens. He was wearing a baseball jacket, but instead of a team it said “Ultraman.” He had streaks of pink and blue through his jet-black hair. His mouth formed a lopsided grin.
“I thought you were more of those ghost-eyed freaks.” His English had a hint of a British accent.
“They’re down here too?” Ryan said, stepping into the room and to the side, like he had been trained. Away from the possibility of gunfire.
“There’s more of them?” The boy turned his head so he could see past Allie and into the corridor. “In Koyasan?”
Allie nodded and held up her hand to stop Ryan asking more questions. She didn’t have children of her own, but she understood them.
“I’m Allie. This is Ryan and Daisaku.”
“Hogai.”
“We were up in the town. This also happened up there. We’re trying to find a way out into the forest, to get off the mountain.”
“Why not just take the cable car down?” Hogai said.
Ryan shoved some of the food and water into his pack. He zipped it and turned. “Hogai is it?”
“Yup.”
“There’s bad guys up there, shooting survivors. I thought this was a bunker. No clue that this research center was here. We came down here to escape and look for a couple of friends of mine. A Japanese girl a little older than you and a woman. Have you seen them?”
Hogai shook his head, cast his eyes to the floor, and scuffed his Air Jordans.
“What happened, Hogai?” Allie asked, her voice soft.
“I was working at my station. I’m learning about robotics. My parents got me this internship. This pain started in my head and I blacked out. When I woke up, everyone else was dead. I tried to get out, but my key card won’t work.” He flashed a white card about the size of a credit card. “That’s when I ran into one of the scientists. Her passkey wouldn’t work either. We walked around searching for an exit and…” Hogai shook his head. “You’re going to think I’m lying.”
“Kid. After all the crap I’ve seen today, it wouldn’t surprise me if you said Godzilla was real and outside as we speak, destroying Japan,” Ryan said.
“The scientist. A lady. Together we were heading to one of the gates when they attacked.” Hogai looked up at Ryan, his brown eyes filled with tears. “Three men with suits on, drooling from their mouths and shrieking. They caught us and slammed us to the ground. I wriggled away. They … fought over her, broke her neck, and sucked on her spine. I tried to look away, but I was frozen in fear. Only when one of them looked at me did I run. I don’t know for how long, and I hid in here.”
“Sucking on her spine?” Daisaku said.
“Yeah, like it was a straw.”
Daisaku grimaced and muttered, “Yuki-onna. I told you.”
Ryan exchanged a look with Allie. She had gripped her bō staff tighter
“All the more reason to leave now,” she said.
“Unless you have a pass, there is no way out,” Hogai said, shaking his head. “I’ve tried.”
Ryan stood and closed the lunchroom door softly. If Hogai was correct, then their plans were useless, as well as the photos he had taken in the fake weapons cache. In fleeing from the death squads, they had inadvertently walked into a rat’s maze. How long would it be before they looked down here? One hour? Two? Moving was the key. Keeping ahead of your foes at all costs.
Ryan glanced around the room as he rubbed his neck. He grabbed his phone from his pocket and brought up the map of the facility. He was determined to find Sofia and Keiko in this maze. He couldn’t explain it, but he knew they were here. In his mind, they had no other options.
They couldn’t go back the way they’d come and risk running into the armed men. They had to find the body of the lady, and her pass. He hoped they could find a door the pass worked on. With access, maybe he could find the jail cells Jiro had mentioned.
Allie handed Ryan a bottle of water and some chocolate. He smiled and accepted them, putting the candy into his satchel and taking a few sips of cool water.
“Hogai. When you come into work each day, where is the security located?”
“Upstairs as you enter the building. And again, when you exit the elevators.”
“Show me.”
“Why?” Hogai frowned.
Ryan ignored him and placed the phone on the coffee table in front of him. “Where are the security gates?”
“Here, here, and here.”
Ryan frowned and let out a breath. He marked the gates in his mind. To get to the exit and the cells, they were going to have to go through three secured gates and up two flights of stairs. He tapped his finger against his stubble-filled chin, a thousand scenarios running through his mind.
What if…?
What about…?
Will they…?
“What’s the plan, Stan?” Allie cocked her head, her eyebrows raised.
“We set off the fire alarms,” Ryan answered.
“The alarms?”
“Two things could happen. Either the security doors will open, or the doors to the stairs—which I’m guessing are the fire escapes—will unlock.”
“It’s too risky for an unknown.”
“Risky? Yes. Calculated? Yes. But hear me out. This is Japan; big on safety. You all must have seen the response to the 2011 earthquake and tsunami. All buildings. All facilities, even ones like this, are going to have safety protocols.”
Ryan banged the table with his fist. “Especially hidden ones like this.” He pored over the maps again, hunting for confirmation of an epiphany.
The fake World War Two bunker was a ruse, an excuse for YamTech to build this facility. To keep it hidden, the workers were either sworn to secrecy or, an easier way, fooled. Fooled about where they worked and its size. They probably signed waivers and were told they were doing important work to advance their country.
Ryan ran his finger over the map. The stairwells all came out in security zones.
“We set off the alarms and head upstairs to search for Sofia and Keiko. I have intel that there are cell
s next to the security zone. I want to check there first. Then we go up this shaft.” He pointed at the map. “I suspect it comes out in a building near the cable car.”
Daisaku jumped to his feet, arms flailing. “Those squads and freaks will be on us in seconds. It’s safer down here. We’ve got food and water. Showers and toilets.”
“And when the food runs out?” Ryan said.
“We’ll find more.”
Ryan lifted his rucksack over his shoulders and tightened the straps. He glanced at Hogai and at Daisaku, and finally Allie.
“I’m not going to force any of you to follow me. I must find my friend and her daughter. I can’t leave without knowing their fate, dead or alive. After that, I’m heading to Osaka and hopefully on to the States. If you decide to come with me, I’ll do everything I can to protect you.”
Allie flashed him a smile. “I’m in. Besides, you’re going to need me. You want to get stateside? I’m your pilot.”
Ryan raised an eyebrow. Fate, it would seem, had just dealt him an ace. “Air Force?”
“Twelve years.”
“I’m coming,” Hogai said. “Not to America, as far as Osaka.”
Daisaku stood and stumbled back, falling over the couch, eyes wide. Ryan spun, following his gaze. A face stared at them through the small window in the door. The eyes were clouded, lips and chin covered in blood, tissue, and flecks of bone. How the eyes could see confused him. There were no pupils.
The face let out a soul-chilling scream so loud it rattled Ryan’s teeth. He snapped into action and drew his Glock. The face headbutted the window, shattering the glass and sending fragments raining into the air.
Ryan blinked away his hesitation and shot the face, just above the left eye, silencing it. The face dropped out of view, to be replaced by three more, snarling and fighting over each other to get through the window. The door rattled on its hinges as the bodies slammed into it.
He breathed out and squeezed the trigger again.
Twenty-Three
Portland, Oregon
Lisa didn’t remember how, but her injured legs appeared to move by themselves. The two bullet holes were numb. The doctor had done a fantastic job of sewing her up. And the painkillers masked her discomfort. The physical, anyway. In her long career, this had to go down as the worst, most confusing week ever. Never had she been so blind, so kept in the shadows as to what was going on. She had her suspicions, but they were so bizarre she dared not voice them, even to herself.
Always there were whispers. Whispers of grand, world-reaching conspiracies. Over the years, Lisa had foiled many terrorist plots. Been on committees that wiped out threats. Neutralized chemical factories that had invented sick and torturous ways to kill people. Now, when she needed information more than ever, she was grasping at empty air.
After causing a distraction for Zanzi and Harriet, Lisa had sprinted to the front of the house, hoping to get help from local police. But she found the police had been gunned down by the commandos. She had circled back and tracked Zanzi and Harriet, hoping more than anything to guide them all to safety. But again, the commandos were waiting.
She rubbed her side where the jolts of electricity had coursed through her, rendering her immobile. She had been helpless as the girls were driven away but had instinctively noted the number plate in the hope she could use the information to track down the culprits. Lisa didn’t trust any of the other agencies after the events at HQ.
She had one last option: Cordwell. An old army friend, avid prepper, and one of few people she had given an emergency phone to. Always plan. That was one of the rules she lived by. The phone had been set up by Avondale and operated on the private government cellular network.
If she was going to have any chance at deciphering this shamble, Cordwell had to be involved.
Lisa trudged deeper into the woods, flinching at any sound, her nerves a tattered mess, her breath coming in rasping gulps.
How many men had she killed? Two? Five?
It didn’t matter. They had still won. Her tired mind tried to remember the strange skull sigil the soldiers wore. Had she seen it before? It wasn’t a special ops team she was familiar with.
She wiped her sweaty brow and allowed a small smile to twitch on her face. Somehow, she had stumbled onto the road she was hunting for.
Lisa paused for a few moments and breathed deeply, trying to still her racing heart. Out of habit, she checked her phone. Finally, she had a signal again. Using the last of her strength, she sent her position to Cordwell and sat down on the side of the road, praying her old mate kept the phone handy.
Lisa must’ve blanked out. In mere seconds, it seemed, Cordwell was there shaking his head, his thinning gray hair combed back flat. Stocky and short, he was one of the strongest men she knew.
“As I live and breathe. Lisa Omstead calls me up and here she is,” Cordwell said, holding out his gnarled hand.
Lisa gripped it tight as he pulled her to her feet. “Hey Cord. Thanks for coming.”
“You look worse than the last time I saw you.” He grinned. “And that was pretty bad.”
“I need to get somewhere safe.”
“I figured. You’re lucky I turned that phone on after everything else went dark. C’mon. I know the perfect spot.”
Cordwell guided her to his light blue pickup truck and helped her into the cab. He revved the engine and tore up the road. Lisa wound down the window and let the crisp spring air swirl around her face. She wanted to fill in Cordwell on all that had happened, but the effort of the last few hours had taken their toll. She was spent. Painkillers masked pain but did nothing for sapped energy. Cordwell glanced over at her a few times but said nothing. He had always been good like that. Kept his mouth closed. Waited for the right time to ask questions.
Lisa’s eyelids drooped. Now that she was with her old teammate, she welcomed the relief and allowed sleep to embrace her.
***
The sounds of popping bacon and crackling eggs woke her. Lisa groaned and opened her eyes fully. She was in a log cabin filled to the brim with supplies. Jugs and bottles of water were stacked neatly against one wall along with boxes of food, medicines, and clothing. She grimaced and sat up, rubbing her side. Cordwell had wrapped a bandage around her stomach and redressed the wounds on her leg. She ached all over, but the night’s rest had revitalized her spirits. The smell of frying bacon wafted in from the galley kitchen.
“Ah, good. You’re awake,” Cordwell said.
“What time is it?”
“Just after 1100.”
“1100! Why did you let me sleep so late? Hell’s teeth. I need to sort out this mess.”
Cordwell handed her a dressing gown. Lisa wasn’t bothered by her state of undress. She and her old platoon—which included Cordwell—had seen each other naked plenty of times.
“I’m going to need your help,” Lisa said.
“Well, that’s obvious. Eat something first. We think better on full stomachs.” He handed her a piping hot cup of coffee.
Grumbling, she sat down and took a nibble of the bacon. She was famished and demolished the rest of the breakfast in minutes.
“What’s going on then?” Cordwell said, sipping his coffee. His blue eyes gazed at her through the steam. Watching. Observing. Taking notes.
Lisa sighed and returned his gaze. “A few nights ago, HQ was attacked by unknown forces. An explosion ripped through several of our science labs, killing dozens. Commandos stormed the building killing more. I escaped with Ryan Connor’s daughter. I was trying to rendezvous with a chopper when that was hit. Brock and Kamal came to our aid and we escaped. We’ve been lying low ever since, until recent worldwide events forced me to act.”
“Those two guys still around, huh?”
“Yes. They saved our lives. This German guy was about to finish me off.”
“This virus in Europe. Is that part of it?”
“I believe so. It has all the same indicators as a few years ago. Then, as now, the
WHO and the CDC had no clue as to its origin or even what it is. The internet and most phones are out, since yesterday. Among other things.” Lisa paused and drank her coffee. She wanted to tell Cordwell everything, but years in charge of LK3 had taught her to always keep cards up her sleeve.
“What were you doing in Portland?” Cordwell asked.
“Trying to stop Black Skulls from capturing Harriet.”
“Black Skulls?”
“The commandos are dressed in black, with a Skull sigil. You ever see a badge like that?”
Cordwell stared intently at her, lips pursed. “Never, but I’ve been retired a few years now. Could be some militia.”
“Too professional.”
“This Harriet. She must be important.”
“At first I thought she was just a witness. But now…” Lisa shook her head.
“Perhaps. Maybe it’s more. If she was just evidence or a witness, why expend all those resources. They’d just send a hit man. Bang. No more witness.” Cordwell said. He smiled and refilled their coffee. “It has to be more than that. She’s valuable to them. Why take Connor’s daughter?”
“Zanzi.”
“Right. Why take her. She has no value. Or does she?”
“I’m not sure. But I know two things. We’re going to find them and get them back.”
Cordwell grinned. “And the second thing?”
“It’s good to see you again. It’s been too long.”
“Am I being recalled to active duty?” he said, with a laugh. “Hellcats back into the fire.”
Lisa beamed at the mention of their old team name. Hellcats. They had specialized in long-range recon. A four-person team. Her, Cordwell, Brock, and Kamal. Trained to sneak in. Observe. Direct. Provide intel on enemy forces. They had earned the moniker Hellcats after an entanglement in the first Gulf War. Fighting their way through forty kilometers of hostile territory. Iraqi forces, thirsty for blood and revenge, hunting them every step of the way. When a position at LK3 came up, Lisa had jumped at the chance. She loved providing security and keeping her fellow Americans safe. She shook her head. Not that she was doing a very good job now. It still bothered her that she’d been frozen out by the other agencies, and not a word from anyone in the government.
