by Lundy, W. J.
The soldier shook his head. “I’m sorry, when we searched the market, the place had been overrun. Everyone inside was dead or turned. We didn’t see any sign of survivors.”
“Damn shame. They had some good folks in that camp,” Sherman said. “How were they doing on supplies? Not to sound callous, but we could use them, and obviously it won’t do them any good now.”
Gyles shook his head. “We were there for the same reason, actually. Anything salvageable we loaded up and trucked back to our camp.” He caught the suspicious look on the old man’s face. “I’m with a unit south of here. We have a large survivors’ camp. You all are welcome to come back with us. We have a well-guarded compound, and there’s plenty of room.”
Sherman laughed. “I’m not interested in being moved to one of your camps. I tried that for a minute, and it didn’t work out.” He looked hard at Gyles. “But what we could use is some of those supplies you stole from us.”
“Stole?” Gyles asked. “When we rolled in, nothing was sitting on those supplies but a load of infected.”
“Flynn was one of us. That market was part of my network; you had no business taking our goods,” Sherman said, his voice rising.
Gyles raised his open hands and shook his head. “Okay, I’ve heard enough. We didn’t come here to fight. We came to find survivors and give any assistance we could.” The sergeant looked back at Culver, who was standing nervously by the door. “Listen, if you don’t want our help, that’s fine. We can roll out. I’ll give you our location in case you change your minds. When I get back to camp, I’ll give the commander your information.”
Lawson stood. Holding the rifle in his right hand, he took a step towards Gyles, causing the young soldier to tighten the grip on his own rifle. “Dammit, Sherman, you better listen to these boys. We can’t stay here, and you know it. We ain’t got but a couple days’ food left, and if we wait much longer, those things will have us blocked in.”
“Lawson, sit down,” Sherman shot back.
“The hell I will. I got family down there too—shit, all of us do—I ain’t letting them starve over your stubbornness.” Lawson waved his hand over the other men, who had all turned in their chairs to focus on the argument. “We have as much say in this as you do.”
Gyles let go of the rifle and raised his hands in surrender. “We didn’t come here to argue. We’re leaving—you all can follow us back if you want. Or if it’s easier, we can send a convoy back for you.”
“Nobody is leaving,” Sherman said.
Gyles could see that Lawson’s jaw was quivering. The old man wanted to speak but, instead, he took a step back toward the open windows. He looked down into the street then turned back quickly. “You need to take them downstairs, show ’em,” Lawson spit. “Show ’em why it is you are refusing to leave. Then look at this crowd out here and explain to the people in the church what you plan to do about it.”
Sherman dropped his chin and took a step back. “You brought it up, you show ’em.”
The old man scoffed before he turned away and walked toward the stairwell, dropping inside.
Zeke moved away from the door and placed a hand on Gyles’s shoulder. “Come on, son, I think we’re done here. You should be heading out before it gets dark.”
“Nope,” Lawson said.
The man slung his rifle across his back and grabbed a worn trucker’s cap from the back of the chair he’d been sitting on. “We aren’t even close to being done. Come on, boys. You all are going to want to see this, and I hope you brought a toothbrush because you won’t be leaving tonight.”
Chapter Six
Day of Infection, Plus Eighteen
Camp Alamo, Near Hayslette, Virginia
Luke sat alone at a table in the galley. Using a fork, he pushed around bits of instant macaroni and cheese, separating it on his plate from some sort of reconstituted beans. Shaking his head, he looked up as a group of dusty soldiers crowded into the galley line.
The men were laughing and joking, mocking a soldier near the front who had apparently pissed himself over something that had happened on the road. Sergeant Weaver moved to the front of the line of Reaper Platoon, telling them to keep it down. He looked toward the galley and caught Luke’s eye. Weaver grinned and offered a mock salute. Slapping a man next to him, he walked away from the line and took a spot at Luke’s table.
“Don’t miss chow on my account,” Luke said.
“I’m not missing anything, that’s for damn sure,” Weaver laughed, pointing at Luke’s tray of slop.
“We had a good supply run. I had some jerky and whatnot on the ride back. I probably shouldn’t be having double rations, anyhow.”
Luke nodded. “Good run… then where’s Gyles? I was looking for him earlier.”
The sergeant shook his head no. “He stayed out, following a lead.” He looked at his watch. “Starting to make me a bit nervous, actually. He should have been back by now.”
“Lead? What kind of lead is worth following out there?”
Weaver sighed and shook his head again. “He thinks there might be survivors holed up in some church. He wanted to go check it out.”
“Thought you all were the hunter-gatherers in this camp. The Marines do the search and rescue.”
“Yeah, try telling that to Gyles. The guy does what he wants, when he wants.”
Luke nodded and pushed his tray away. Before he could take his hand off it, Weaver had the tray pulled in front of him. He lifted the fork and took a heaping mouthful of the macaroni and bean mixture. Weaver scowled and shook his head. “Just awful,” he gagged before shoveling in another mouthful.
Putting up his hand, Luke smiled. “Be my guest.” He paused then looked left and right. “Listen, Weaver, there is something else, something I might need some help with.”
Weaver dipped his chin, chewing heavily. He gulped down a swallow. “Sure, brother. You’re practically a member of the Reapers, whatever you need.”
“What do you know about a plan to relocate out of here?”
Weaver’s brow tightened. He placed the fork down beside the tray and reached for a bottle of water attached to his vest. “I’ve heard rumors of a plan to move everything south if we can’t keep up with the provisions.” He took a big gulp of water and wiped his face with his sleeve. “If we cannot find enough food around here to keep everyone fed, the Colonel won’t have any other choice but to move them. And to be honest with you, Luke, numbers of the infected are growing every day. They could breach these walls if they hit us in force. Food, we can find plenty of, but bullets and fuel are growing scarce. I wouldn’t mind getting some distance on them.”
Rolling his shoulders, Luke leaned forward. “What if I told you it’s not a rumor? It’s about to happen any day now.”
“I’d say good.” Weaver shrugged. “I’m sick of this place.”
“Good … even knowing there are more survivors out there, people we could help? Hell, even I got family out there somewhere.”
“Can’t help people we can’t find. Radios are down, and every place we search is abandoned or full of the dead.”
“Radios aren’t down,” Luke said. “They are just being jammed.”
Weaver sighed and sat back in his chair. “Yeah, I heard all the conspiracy on that too. But the radios aren’t jammed, Luke; everyone is just dead. Sorry, friend, I know you got family out there, but nothing we can do.”
“If they were just dead, you’d be able to talk to Gyles right now. They are being jammed.” Luke scowled and slid closer. “Listen to me, the radios are working just fine. The Colonel is in open communication with Fort Stewart. Like I said, they’re jamming everyone else. Why? I don’t know, but it’s happening.”
“Bullshit … now you listen, brother. If you are asking for us to help you search for your family, I’ve got to say no. Friend or not, all my people got family out there, alive or dead. I can’t ask them to do that for you.”
“Weaver, shut up for a second and listen.”
Luke shook his head. “What I’m trying to tell you is I think I know how I can shut the jamming off. Shut if off for good, and at least give people a chance.”
“You’re talking about people that might not even be out there.”
“Like the ones Gyles went after today?” Luke clenched his fists. “Let me put it to you like this—in a few days, we’re all going to be told to abandon this place and move south. I won’t be going with them. If you change your mind, look me up.”
“So, on your own, you’re just going to leave this place behind?”
Luke closed his eyes and dipped his head down to the floor. “I’m not alone. I’ve picked up a dependent, somehow. She’ll probably be going with me.”
“Dependent?”
“Yeah, some damn kid followed me home and won’t leave me alone.”
Weaver shook his head. “Okay, hold up, brother, what exactly is going on?”
The lights suddenly snapped off then popped back on, buzzing as they flickered at a noticeably dimmer level. Weaver reached for the radio at his collar and turned up the volume, hearing a series of emergency codes. At the same time, Marines in the galley pushed away from the tables and ran back toward the barracks area.
Luke’s eyes followed them. “And what’s this?”
The men from the Reaper Platoon left the chow line and were gathering around their squad leader. “Looks like they’re having a rush on the perimeter fences. They routed generator power to focus the spotlights out front to try to draw the infected toward the burn trenches.”
“Will that work?” Luke asked.
Shrugging, Weaver looked up as the lights flickered again. “Depends on the numbers.” He turned back to his men. “Listen, guys, I know we were supposed to be off mission tomorrow, but get rested up and be ready to go back out. If Sergeant Gyles isn’t back before sunup, we’re going out after him at first light.” The men grunted and quickly dispersed. Weaver turned back to Luke. “You still have access to that big ass MRAP of yours?”
“The Beast.” Luke smiled. “I’m not about to let anyone take it.”
“Then how about you gas it up and be ready to roll out with us? Take that kid if you have to.”
Luke grimaced. “You think the Colonel will just let us roll away from camp? He has pretty strict orders about us staying inside.”
A burst of machine gun fire echoed off the walls. From the sound, it was just outside the structure. “I’d say they’re too busy to worry about it. Have your bags packed and be in the motor pool at dawn.”
Chapter Seven
Day of Infection Plus Eighteen
North of Hayslette, Virginia
At the rear church parking lot, Gyles stood with the rest of his men around the armored Humvee. The white garage building was behind them, and the stone walls surrounded them on all sides. The roars of the infected seemed to be growing louder every minute they were there. The things had moved beyond the face of the church and were slowly surrounding it. If they wanted to leave now, they would have to fight their way out.
Something bad was going on here. The men holding the church seemed confident, but Gyles could see the desperation in the eyes of the families inside. He’d been to enough refugee camps to recognize the looks of terror. This wasn’t the sanctuary it appeared to be at first glance; this was a lifeboat surrounded in a sea of death. If the National Guard had really pulled out, they were stranded here, and the situation would only get worse as more infected moved in. He closed his eyes, listening to the howls of the infected.
Zeke noticed his worried expression and gave him a knowing nod. “They grow more agitated as the sun goes down. I hope you all weren’t planning on leaving here tonight.”
Gyles moved close to the Humvee, unsnapped his rifle from its sling, and laid it on the hood of the vehicle. Mega was up in the turret, leaning back, rubbing the M240 machine gun with an oiled cloth. Culver and Kenny were both sleeping inside the crew compartment. “I have to say, Zeke, we were planning on leaving. I have people waiting on me back at base. So, if you don’t produce this whatever it is Lawson wanted us to see, I think we’ll be saying our goodbyes.”
Zeke laughed and nodded his head. “I get your impatience, but it’ll be worth it. And shouldn’t be much longer. Father Andre isn’t the man he used to be, but I’m sure once Lawson breaks things down to him, he’ll be willing to speak to you. And better yet, willing to listen.”
“Now hold up,” Gyles said, stepping closer to the older man. “I thought Sherman was in charge. How the hell does this Andre figure into things?”
“Father Andre,” Zeke said, correcting him with a stern look. “This is Father Andre’s church. Sherman might be the man responsible for saving it, but do not be fooled, son. This congregation belongs to Father Andre. What he says, goes, regardless of how much bitching Sherman does. The people in there won’t move a finger unless Andre gives the go-ahead. And worse yet, they won’t leave unless Andre leads them out the door.”
“Is that what this is about? Getting the people to leave?” Gyles put his hands on his hips and looked up at the darkening sky. He slowly shook his head side to side. “Listen, Zeke, you all sound like good people, and I want to help, but I’m not a salesman. I told you what we have to offer, and that’s all I got—”
Zeke interrupted him. “This isn’t about making deals, Sergeant. We have a lot of people inside there that need help. Sherman won’t say it, but he knows we’re in trouble here. Just give Father Andre a chance. Talk to him, help him make a wise decision.”
The back door to the church opened again and Lawson stood in the opening. “Come on in and bring all of your people and gear. We won’t be securing the grounds once we seal these doors again. The demons are still crowding in. We think it’s best to lock ourselves inside. And you all shouldn’t be on the road after dark.”
Before Gyles could protest, Zeke had a hand on his shoulder. “He’s right. You’ll never make it once the sun goes down. What kind of host would we be to send you out in this weather, anyhow?” The old man half smiled, pointing toward the source of the howling.
Mega released the machine gun off the mount and jumped from the hatch, dragging an assault pack and sleeping bag behind him. “That works for me, friends. I’m tired of the food in the camp.” He smiled and looked at Zeke. “Say, you got any of that Jesus juice in there? Is this one of those wine churches?”
“You a Catholic, son?” Zeke asked.
“I am tonight, brother.” Mega’s face turned serious. “I mean, if you got it. You weren’t joking, were you?”
Lawson coughed and shook his head. “We ain’t got none of that wine, but we got some brandy that I think will cleanse your soul.”
Mega turned and slapped Gyles on the shoulder. “Damn, I think I been born again! I done found my people.” He moved off toward the door, following Lawson inside.
Gyles waited for Culver and Kenny to move out before he did the same, leaving Zeke behind him to secure the space. This time when they moved down the hallway, instead of going to the end and into the main body of the church, they turned to a narrow passageway that wrapped behind the alter. Stopping in a dark room, Gyles followed close as they moved to a tight staircase and into a musty basement. Gyles ran his hand along the wall, noticing the heavy scarring and crumbling masonry, obvious damage from gunshots. The floor was stained with blood.
A heavy wood door marked with scratches was at the bottom of the stairs. To the left of the door, the passageway continued off into the darkness. Lawson turned back and, seeing the concerned expression on Gyles’ face, said, “This entire section of the church was filled with demons when Sherman arrived. It took a lot of blood, but they got them all out.”
“That explains the body pile out back, I guess,” Gyles said, his expression staying hard.
Biting at his bottom lip, Lawson nodded. “You saw that, did ya? Well, that only explains half of it.” Lawson took his hand off the door and turned back. “When Sherman got here, this p
lace was completely overrun. Him and some others fought their way inside, killing everything as they went. Even Sherman says he thought everyone was dead until he heard the shouts coming from below. That’s when he found Andre and most of the church members holed up behind this door.”
“So, this is a safe room?”
The man shook his head no.
Gyles pointed into the darkness where the hallway continued. “And what’s down there?”
“Nothing, it’s all unfinished spaces and remnants of the old foundation. Sherman cleared it out. There’s nothing there.”
Gyles stared into the darkness, using a flashlight to try to see the end. Finally, he nodded and looked back at the door. “Why are the others upstairs, while the quasi leadership is down here hiding behind a door?”
Sighing, Lawson turned back and pounded on the door. “That, my friend, is a great question. I think it’s better if you just meet Andre. I’d rather you develop your own opinion of him.”
After a brief pause, a wooden trap slid in the top of the door, exposing a young man’s eyes. He looked at Lawson and surveyed the uniformed men standing behind him. After a series of clunks, the door opened inward and the young man ushered them all inside before locking the door behind them. “Sorry for all the opening and closing and locking of doors,” he said. “Mr. Sherman, our security man, was in the Navy, and he insists that this is how it’s done to secure the ship.”
Gyles stepped inside and surveyed the space. It was in stark contrast to the hallway they’d just left. The room was ornate, with walls made of precision-cut stone and furnished with dark, polished wood and overstuffed chairs, and carpets covering the floor. “Is this a ship?” Gyles asked.
The young man turned his head to the side in thought. “As Mr. Sherman says, we are securing compartments from flooding—only now the flooding is from demons instead of water.”
