The Soldier (Book 2): Sanctuary

by Lundy, W. J.

  “That makes sense,” Gyles said, shaking his head. “And are you Father Andre?”

  “Oh no, call me Jacob. I am Father Andre’s assistant. Please, follow me. Your men can rest here. I will have food and water brought to them shortly.”

  Looking back, Gyles was prepared to argue the request but could see that his men were already dropping into the comfortable-looking chairs. He nodded to the young man and was led to another tall door made of mahogany. The man turned a key and ushered Gyles in ahead of him. He was greeted with a short bald man wrapped in a black robe. The man was sitting behind a dark desk, reading a leather-bound book. The walls of the room were covered with bookshelves and had no windows. In a corner of the room, he spotted Sherman sitting at a table, sipping from a porcelain cup.

  The young man went to close the door, but Gyles reached out a hand, stopping him. “Sorry, friend. I’d like to leave the path open, if that’s okay.”

  Jacob looked at the man in the black robe, who nodded his approval. The young man smiled and removed his hand from the door, crossing them to his front.

  Gyles surveyed the space. “Nice office, Padre.”

  “Oh, this is not my office. This is the church archive and study. It’s a reading and mediation room of sorts and just happens to be the safest spot on the church grounds.”

  Gyles looked left and right again, then up at the ceiling made of thick beams and planks. “Is there another entrance?”

  “Oh no, that door is the only way in or out. It is very sturdy, I can assure you,” Andre said. “Like I stated before, we are completely safe in here.”

  “If this church was overrun, this room would become a tomb,” Gyles said. “I’d rather be outside.”

  “Yes, most likely there would be no escape for us, that is true,” the man said. “But, same as last time, God willing, someone would come for us.”

  “The last time?” Gyles asked. “You mean when they had to fight their way in to free you? You would put others at risk to save you?”

  “That is hardly a fair assessment.” The priest stood and walked around the wooden desk. He pointed to a pair of chairs with a small table separating them. On the table was a coffee pot and white porcelain cups. “Please sit,” the man said. “Last time I had to seek refuge in this room, it was Mr. Sherman and his friends who came and let me out.”

  Gyles hesitated before removing his shooting gloves. He stuffed them into his shirt pocket and sat back on a red velvet-lined chair. The priest nodded toward Jacob, who turned and left the room, leaving the door open.

  “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I really don’t have a lot of patience,” Gyles said.

  Father Andre smiled and poured a cup of coffee, which he handed to Gyles before sitting in a chair across from him. “When this all started, I was like you. I was in a hurry. Always in a hurry to attend meetings, services, funerals, weddings. Every day something was happening here or there, something I had to attend to. The birth of a child, a parishioner in the hospital. I was always quick to act, to try and help.” The man paused a beat and looked toward the open door then back to Gyles. “In the time since, I have found that swift decisions often come with regrets.”

  “I’m sure we all have regrets,” Gyles said.

  “There is no urgency in this. We have to just wait for it to be over.” Andre smiled and looked down at his hands crossed in his lap. “Where were you when all of this started?”

  Gyles looked over at Sherman. The man hadn’t budged, still staring down at the coffee cup in his hands. “A bit north of here.”

  “Please share, and what was it you were doing, north of here?”

  Gyles exhaled. “My unit was sent to escort some medical people back to a base in Georgia.”

  “And did you?”

  The soldier shook his head. “No, we didn’t.”

  “Why not?” Andre asked.

  Frowning, Gyles shrugged. “It didn’t work out.” He lifted his arm and circled. “All of this happened, I guess.”

  “And now you are here.”

  Gyles nodded. “Yeah,”—he exhaled—“now I’m here.”

  “See? We really are not that different; my story is the same as yours. I woke up one day, all of this happened—as you say—and look, now I am here.” The priest smiled again. “The same as you. Not that different, are we?”

  Gyles lifted the cup and took a long sip. Holding it in his hand, he looked at the priest. “Padre, I enjoy a good lecture as much as the next guy, but really, what is going on here? Is there something we can help you with, or did I waste my time stopping?”

  Andre frowned and pursed his lips. “Mr. Sherman has informed me that the Army resupply missions have stopped, and he has no information on them starting again. He seems to think we need to leave this sanctuary. He tells me we may not have enough stores to last us until order is restored.”

  With raised eyebrows, Gyles looked across the table at Andre. “Order restored? What do you think is going on out there? Who is going to restore order?”

  “Patience, my friend, this didn’t happen overnight. It won’t be restored overnight.” The Priest pointed his hands toward the ceiling. “Of course, there is chaos, disorder, but nothing that cannot be sorted out. And when it is, the Church will be prepared to lend assistance. Just as before all of this, we will open our doors to those who need us.”

  Gyles studied the man’s expression. He turned to Sherman, who was grinning slightly from one side of his mouth. “Listen, Padre, I think things are a bit worse than that. Yes, the National Guard or whoever it is you were dealing with, they are most likely gone.” Gyles put up his hands. “Hell, they’re probably all dead. I’ve been running patrols outside for close two weeks. I’ve seen no signs of police or government. As far as I can tell, everything outside is dead or dying.”

  “You shouldn’t lose faith so quickly. As recently as a few days ago, we put people on busses to the FEMA camps. We are very safe here and will be for as long as necessary.”

  “And have you heard from them? These people you sent out, has any word come back from any of them?”

  “I’m certain you are aware that phones and other forms of communication are not working.”

  Gyles shook his head and looked at Sherman. “Is he serious?”

  Sherman bit at his lip and nodded. “Oh yeah, he’s serious. Father Andre here believes everything is going back to normal any day now. We just have to wait and see.”

  “And that’s why you didn’t take me up on the offer to leave?” Gyles asked Sherman, ignoring the priest in front of him. “This guy is calling the shots. You’re betting everyone’s lives on an old man hiding in a cellar.”

  Sherman laughed. “Half the people upstairs, including my wife and daughter, aren’t going anywhere without Andre here, and Andre says he isn’t leaving this room.”

  Looking over his shoulder at Mega in the next room, Gyles turned back to Sherman. “I have a couple hundred pounds of dumb muscle in the other room that could get this man on a truck.”

  “You don’t think I’ve thought of that?” Sherman said, shaking his head. “We try forcing this man out, we’ll have a riot on our hands. People out there think this man is the reason they’re still alive. You want them to go with you, then convince Andre to go.”

  Andre stood and smiled, completely unfazed by what the men were saying. His mood was almost childlike, as though he hadn’t heard any of the conversation. “It’s okay, there is no need to be anxious.”

  Gyles looked at the priest’s face, studying him. “What happened to you? Is it the shock of it all? When did the lights go out on your reality?”

  Andre’s head pulled back in confusion. “Nothing has happened to me.”

  Shaking his head, Gyles turned back to Sherman. “You said half. What about the people that do want to leave? If you have folks ready to go, I’m willing to take them out.”

  “Sure,” Sherman said, nodding. “Lawson, his family, they are more than ready t
o go. Half the shooters in the tower will leave as soon as I give the word. But I can’t just abandon the rest. I won’t abandon the rest.”

  “But would you force Lawson and the others to stay, based on the words of this guy?”

  Sherman shook his head. “Of course not, but it still isn’t that easy.”

  “Tell me,” Gyles said. “What is it you need from me?”

  “We don’t have transportation, and half those people are seniors. They can’t walk out of here,” Sherman said. “We had a couple busses, but the Guard commandeered those for their own evacuation missions, and they never brought them back.”

  “We could probably find some trucks; there are plenty of vehicles on the road.”

  “And then we would still have the infected to deal with,” Sherman said, shaking his head. “I hate to admit it, and as much as I want to leave, I have to say Andre is right—we can’t leave. We’re stuck here.”

  Gyles looked at Andre, who sat with the same childlike smile on his face, sipping from his cup. “Yeah, this cat isn’t right about anything.” He set his own cup back on the table and stood. “I’ll give you until morning to get your house in order.”

  Frowning, Sherman looked down. “By morning, we will be surrounded six-deep. If we’re lucky, the walls will hold, and they’ll still be outside. If not, they’ll be at the church doors. We can seal up tight and hold them off until they leave.”

  “If you knew we would be trapped, then why the hell did you keep us here?” Gyles said, turning to investigate the room behind him. “We could have gone for help.”

  Andre spoke up at this. “You’ll be fine, son. Please be patient.”

  Gyles shook his head in frustration. He looked at Sherman. “You got the wrong guy. I tried the shelter-in-place, hold-the-fort thing once.”

  “And?” Sherman asked.

  “They all died,” Gyles said, leaving the room.

  Chapter Eight

  Day of Infection, Plus Eighteen

  Camp Alamo, Near Hayslette, Virginia

  As Luke approached the top of the stairs, the gunfire outside the walls had increased; there was no ignoring the danger. Marines in full kit were pouring out of barracks rooms and forming up in the aisleways. Luke could feel the energy in the air… bad things were happening. He moved around the hustling Marines and headed to his door halfway down the narrow walkway. A Marine sergeant reached out and grabbed his arm. Luke snapped at the contact. The Marine flinched and pulled back his arm. “Hey, deputy, I hear you were one of us once.”

  “Once a Marine, always a Marine,” Luke responded sarcastically. Seeing the concerned look on the sergeant’s face, he softened his tone. “Yeah, I did my time. I’m out and not going back to it.”

  “I see,” the sergeant said, turning back to where several other Marines were lining up.

  This time it was Luke who reached out. “What’s going on out there? I haven’t heard this much gunfire in the camp before.”

  Shaking his head, the sergeant turned back, his face pale. “It’s bad. They’re moving at us, en masse. Something shifted them back from D.C. and they’re all turning southwest. The Brass says the things are migrating, looking for food. They’ve already surrounded most of the camp and are pushing at the gates. They’ve crammed up against all the perimeter fences and are piling up against the wire fencing at the top of the berms. If we can’t get out there to fight them, they’ll breach those fences and, soon after, the crazies will be inside.”

  “How long have we got?”

  The young Marine looked down at his boots and slowly shook his head side to side before returning his gaze to Luke. “It’s like they know… they know our weak spots. Like they know that if they pressed up against the gates, we won’t be able to get outside to stop them. And every time we open them, they rush at us.”

  “If you can’t get outside, then where are all of you going? What’s the plan?”

  “Colonel is sending us to the south wall. He’s hoping if we fight them there, make a lot of noise, it will draw the things around and clear up the gates on the north side.”

  “I thought that’s what the dozers were doing out there, keeping them occupied and off the walls.”

  The Marine shook his head. “They got bogged down and had to evac the crews. There are so many out there, and the numbers are multiplying by the hour.”

  “This is bad,” Luke said, rubbing his chin. He turned back to the Marine. “Take care of your men, Sergeant.”

  The man nodded and walked away, leaving Luke alone outside his door. He moved closer and could see that it was still closed. The Marine boot he’d talked to earlier was still standing beside it. “Thought I only had you until the end of your watch,” Luke said, stopping beside him.

  The kid shrugged. “Well, she tried to leave about twenty minutes after you left. It didn’t feel right letting her out to wander off with everything that’s going on. Anyhow, my unit is moving out; she’s all your problem now.” The man slung his rifle and walked away.

  Luke reached for the knob and pushed, with the door resisting. He shoved again, but it wouldn’t move. He knocked and shouted, “Come on… open up! It’s me, Luke.”

  He pushed again, and when the door wouldn’t open, he hit it with his shoulder. The door gave in with the cracking of wood. Moving inside, he could see that his only chair, which had been pressed against the knob, was now in a shattered heap. The girl was against the far wall, sitting with her pack in her lap. He looked at her then moved to a locker and opened it, pulling his own pack.

  “Good, you’re already packed,” he said, grabbing his bed roll. He wrapped it up and strapped it to the top of his pack. He turned back to her. “Anyone you need to say goodbye to?”

  “Are we going somewhere?” she asked, looking at him in surprise.

  He stood and walked toward the doorway. “Oh yeah, we’re going—and most likely not coming back.”

  “What makes you think I’m going with you?” she said, not moving from her spot.

  Luke shrugged. “Suit yourself. You can keep the room.” He moved outside, leaving the door open. He made it to the steps before he checked to see if she was behind him. She was. He ignored her as he continued down the stairs and through the galley. He planned to stop at the admin cube to say goodbye but could see that the lights were out, and the door was left open.

  Stepping closer, it was apparent the space had been evacuated. Things were happening faster than he thought they would. He turned and waved the girl ahead of him as they traveled into the motor pool building, where more troops were running in all directions. At the corner of the large garage, under halogen lighting, the Beast sat alone with the back ramp dropped. Marines were in a bay next to it, strapping gear to the top of an armored Humvee. As Luke approached his Mine Resistant Ambush Protected (MRAP) vehicle, he expected to be confronted, but the men ignored him, consumed with their own work.

  He moved around the large, black-painted vehicle and to the back ramp. He removed his pack and tossed it into the troop compartment then waved his fingers at the girl, indicating her bag. She hesitated before unslinging it and stuck it out toward him. He took it and did the same, tossing it into the crew compartment.

  “Hey, careful with that.”

  Luke shook his head and looked at her then pointed to a stack of boxes along a far wall. Marines were moving with purpose over the garage, hardly noticing them. “Make yourself useful. Go to that stack of boxes. It’s Meals Ready to Eat; grab as many as you can carry and load them inside.”

  “They ain’t going to just let me steal their stuff,” she said, looking at the Marines working nearby.

  “That stack and the water next to it are mission rations. It’s not stealing—that’s what it’s for,” he said, looking at her sternly.

  The girl looked at him with her jaw open. “Just for anything? You have piles of food like this, and we starve in the survivors’ block?”

  “Cool story, sister, now do what I said.”
/>
  Not waiting to see if she was following his instruction, he moved to the cab of the vehicle and unlatched the door. He flipped on the power and watched the dash lights and gauges come to life. The tank was topped off. He powered it back down and moved to the rear deck. The six 5-gallon jerry cans were all full. Things were all prepped and ready to go, the same as he’d left the Beast over a week ago when he backed it into this bay. He looked at his watch—not even midnight. They would have a long wait before Weaver and his men joined them.

  There was a rumbling in the bay beside him, and the armored Humvee began to roll forward, toward the main doors. He looked in the direction of the main garage bay and saw groups of armed men gathering near the overhead doors. He spotted Master Gunnery Sergeant Allen “Gus” Gustafson carrying a large duffel bag. He was the grizzled, senior enlisted man of the camp, and from what Luke had heard, the man was essentially leading the camp’s defenses.

  Before Luke could duck and turn away, he’d caught Gus’ attention. The older man scowled and knife-handed a row of Marines standing nearby, shouting obscenities that launched the Marines into action. He then turned and stomped directly in Luke’s direction.

  Luke stepped away from the MRAP. He could see Kate returning from the supply stack with her arms clumsily wrapped around a box of MREs. She disappeared up the back ramp of the MRAP, and he turned to follow her, trying to avoid a confrontation with Gus. Before Luke could get up the ramp, he heard the old man behind him.

  “Are you going somewhere?”

  Luke didn’t turn around. “Just routine maintenance. Truck needs to be ready, you know.”

  Kate stepped out of the crew compartment and onto the ramp. Her hands on her hips, she said, “I loaded three cases—how long are we going to be gone?”

  Gus looked at the girl, his face stone hard then turned back to Luke and scowled. “Not going anywhere, huh?”

  Luke waved his hand for the girl to get back inside then dropped his arms and turned toward the senior Marine. He shook his head. “Nope, but if I was… would you let me?”