by Lundy, W. J.
Rubbing his clean-shaven chin with his right hand, Gus looked down at his boots and dropped the large duffel bag at Luke’s feet. “Nothing I can do to stop you. Colonel says all you cops are free to do what you want. We’re running a base camp here, not a prison. Folks are welcome to leave with whatever it was they arrived with. The vehicle is yours, along with what you brought in with you—nothing more, nothing less. So no, I wouldn’t stop you.”
Luke smiled. He knew Gus was ignoring the obvious fact about the MREs he’d just seen the girl load. They weren’t part of the anything he came in with. He began to speak but before he could, Gus cut him off. “Does this trip have anything to do with that Sergeant Gyles friend of yours?”
“Gyles? Why? Something I should know?”
“It’s a small camp. Not much you can keep a secret, including that girl you’re keeping in your room.” Gus scoffed a chuckle when he saw Luke’s jaw drop. “Don’t worry about it. I read the report. I’m sure you didn’t have any other options.” He stepped closer. “I know your friend Gyles hasn’t checked in from his AM patrol. I just checked the books; that Sergeant Weaver up there also cleared a team of his men from the mission log. He’s had a group draw full kit and ammo in the last hour. You’re going out with Weaver, looking for Gyles, aren’t you?”
Luke was prepared to lie, but before he could, Gus put up his hand and pointed toward the overhead doors. “You see those boys over by the exit? You know where they’re headed to?”
“I heard something about the southern wall.”
“See? Nothing is a secret in this damn place.” Gus laughed and nodded his head. “You know why they’re going to the wall and not the gate?” Gus asked. He’d turned now and was watching the Marines load cans of ammo into the back of the Humvee.
“Because the gates are blocked with infected,” Luke said.
Gus turned back and grinned then moved back toward the MRAP and sat on a crate of vehicle parts. He fished a cigar from his pocket and flipped it through his fingers before placing the well-worn tip between his lips. “The infected got us boxed in. The gates are blocked… no way to open them without damaging the gates and letting the infected into the inner perimeter fences.”
“You think it’ll work, pulling the infected to the south wall?”
Gus shook his head no. “Maybe long enough to get a few trucks out. We have drone footage, but it’s always delayed because of the comms outage. They can only fly on pre-programmed routes, and we must download the footage when they return. But we do know there are a lot of them out there, and more on the way. The most recent video shows a column stretching all the way back to the Capital.”
“So you’re not evacuating?” Luke asked. “Then what is this?”
“It’s Camp Alamo, son. We need to stop them here, and there’s only one thing that can stop them, and that’s something we don’t got.”
“What is it you need?”
“Air support.” Gus’s face grew hard and his eyes locked on Luke.
“Why are you looking at me like that? I can’t fly.”
“Because I know there is a fighter attack squadron still in operation. I know they still have birds, fuel, and plenty of ordnance.”
“Where?” Luke asked. “Even if there were such a unit still running, by the time we reached them—hell, if we reached them—it would be too late.”
Gus grinned and nodded, eyes still locked on Luke’s. “But with the radios, we could call in a strike on demand. We could turn this fight around for a while.”
“But the radios are down—” Luke stopped when he saw Gus’s eyebrows arch, and he shot a grin of his own. “Or maybe someone just doesn’t want us talking?”
“Ain’t no damn secrets in this camp, are there?” Gus looked down at his cigar and said “fuck it” before fishing a Zippo from his pocket. He put the flame to the cigar and puffed until a cherry had formed the end.
“Thought the Colonel said no smoking indoors.”
Gus sucked in and blew smoke rings toward Luke. “He did, and he’ll be pissed when he finds out, but not as pissed as he’ll be about what I’m going to tell you. “
“And what’s that?” Luke asked.
“I know where this jamming is coming from.”
Luke dipped his chin and took a step back to lean against the MRAP, crossing his arms across his chest. “Well, talk is, the Colonel has communications with Fort Stewart now. So what’s the problem?”
“Problem is someone is censoring us. Someone is controlling when we can and cannot talk, and who we talk to. They’re holding back all the resources and fire power. We’re supposed to be fighting a war to save the damn country, but some pencil breaker in a bunker out west is holding everything back,” Gus said, the pitch in his voice turning angry. “They’re using everything to save their own asses while our people die out there on the streets.”
Luke bit at his lower lip. “What do you need me to do, Master Guns?”
“I can’t release any Marines. We need everything we’ve got for the camp’s defense.”
“I’m listening,” Luke said.
“I know you and your battle buddies are already up to something. I know that Sergeant Gyles pal of yours is already out there doing his own thing.” Gus turned and looked behind him then back to Luke. “In a couple hours, we’re going to open the doors up and attempt to get vehicles outside the wire to make some noise. When that happens, I want your crew moving with them. My men are going to turn east and try to draw away the hordes.”
“You’re just going to let us go after Gyles?” Luke asked. “You just said you can’t spare anyone.”
Gus shook his head. “No, I’m not letting you do anything. As far as anyone else is concerned, you are part of the defense plan.” He looked Luke in the eye and grinned. “But that’s not what’s going to happen. I want you to disappear, and then find this jamming station and shut it down.”
Luke grimaced. “And why would we be down for that? Like you said, we already have plans.”
“Cause you do this for me, once it is done, you’re free to do whatever you want. Go save your buddy, head to Vegas and find a hooker with a pulse, I don’t care. You refuse, I’ll just make sure none of your crew ever leaves the wire again. This is your chance to get out safely. Just try leaving on your own with those things pressed against the gate.”
“Just find the tower and shut it down?” Luke said. “I take it the Colonel isn’t on board with this plan.”
Gus shook his head side to side. He handed Luke a scrap of a map. “Don’t worry about the Colonel. Our intel guys have pinpointed the source of the jamming. I want you to find it and kill it. It’s time to lift the fog of war so my Devil Dogs can do what they do best. We can rally and get the zoomies dropping snake and nape on those crazy bastards.” The old Marine reached out an arm and squeezed Luke’s shoulder. “If you can’t pull this off, Camp Alamo will fall. We don’t have the ammo or the real estate to maneuver. They’ll all die.”
Luke pursed his lips as he looked at the scrap of paper with eight-digit grid coordinates scrawled across it. “Anything else?”
The old Marine pointed down at the duffel bag at his feet. “It’s full of demo charges, everything the Seabees could spare. Don’t come back here when you’re done.” Gus took a long pull on the cigar and exhaled. “You free up the radio, we’ll start calling in sorties. As soon as the Air Boys can clear the gates of hell, we’ll be bugging out.”
The old man shot Luke a last toothy grin. “And besides, the Colonel won’t be happy with you going AWOL and destroying government property.”
Chapter Nine
Day of Infection, Plus Eighteen
North of Hayslette, Virginia
Back in the bell tower, Gyles was overlooking the outer grounds of the church. The group from earlier was gone, and he found himself alone with a pair of watch standers who were being very open about ignoring him. The sun was setting in the western sky, and the surrounding city was blanketed
in a haze of grey smoke.
The stairwell door behind him clunked open, and he turned to see Lawson exiting, holding a steel mess tray in his hand. Extending the tray toward Gyles, he said, “It ain’t much, but you’re welcome to it.”
Gyles looked at the tray with two slices of bread and some sort of stew. “My men eat?”
Lawson nodded. “They’re down there now,” he said, passing the tray to Gyles.
The old man walked past him and moved to the tower railing. “Noticed you didn’t waste any time getting away from the families down there. You have one of your own?”
Gyles turned his head to the side and shook his head no. He moved his back against the wall, holding the tray. “I’m not here to make friends.” He pointed his chin toward the Primals in the street below. “Besides, why miss out on this view?”
“When was the last time you spent a night in the city, Sergeant?”
Stuffing a hunk of bread covered in stew into his mouth, Gyles shrugged. “You can call me Gyles, or Robert, if you’d like.”
Grinning, the old man nodded and asked the question again.
“The city? Or any city?” Gyles answered before he sighed and looked around him. “No, this isn’t something we make a habit of.” He reached for his canteen and chugged water. “Patrols leave in the morning, and we try to get back before sundown. Usually it works out that way. We get a target in the brief, we move to it, take what we can, and move back.”
“So why was today different?” Lawson asked.
Gyles shook his head. “To be honest, I don’t really know. After seeing all those dead inside the market, something was tearing at me. Something telling me there was more we could be doing. I just had a hunch someone was still alive out here. It can’t all be gone.”
“Then you haven’t seen it.”
“Seen what?” Gyles asked, his curiosity piqued.
“Nighttime is when the infected get active,” Lawson said. “But it’s also when the survivors talk.”
“What do you mean talk?”
“There are people out there. A lot of them. I imagine there are people like this all over the country, holed up, just looking for help, and they would ask for it too, if the radios worked.”
“We’ve been out every day, we’ve found almost nobody in two weeks.”
“Because you were always looking in the daylight.” Lawson smiled, watching the last of the sun drop below the horizon. “Just wait and see.”
Gyles set the now nearly empty mess tray on a small table and stepped closer to the railing. In the distance, he began to see the twinkling of lights. A few at first, then there were several from rooftops all over the city. “Is that Morse code?” he asked.
Lawson shrugged. “It’s possible; nobody here knows how to read it very well. It seems pretty random. Some, we know, is S.O.S, but a lot is just random. It’s survivors letting others know they are still there.”
“Why don’t they get out? You said the National Guard was set up here, why didn’t they leave?”
The old man moved away from the railing and pulled up a chair, dropping into it. “At first, there were no evacuations. They wanted everyone to lock down tight. Highways were closed, you all were bombing them and killing anything that violated the curfews. It wasn’t safe to travel—get infected or have the military kill you.”
Gyles frowned at the comment. “I know it happened, but it wasn’t anything to do with me.”
Lawson nodded. “Same difference though. The government made it clear that they didn’t want us traveling. The Army set up barricades to keep the infected out and us in. They killed off everything they could inside the city then started dropping off FEMA kits to survivors. You know, food, water, things like that. They went door-to-door, delivering them. They came with these little instruction cards, telling us to stay indoors, shelter in place, to turn in our sick neighbors. Stuff like that.
“For a minute, it seemed like things would get better. We had no way to find out what was going on. Radio and TV was out, phones dead. The only news we had came from those National Guard troopers. But still, it felt like order was being restored.”
The old man paused and looked up into the night sky. “Sure, the power was out, but nobody was going hungry. They tried hard to make sure everyone that wanted food kits had at least thirty days of food. Hell, my pantry was fuller than it had ever been.”
“Did they get supplies to everyone?”
Lawson laughed and reached into a back pocket. Removing a flask, he unscrewed the cap and took a swig before passing it to Gyles. “Nah… that operation lasted a whole three, maybe four days. We got a couple of their kits. Some FEMA officer and civilian doctor was telling us to lock our doors and stay put, promised if an evacuation came, that they would move us.”
“I take it that didn’t happen?” Gyles asked, taking a sip and passing back the flask.
The old man shook his head. “No, it didn’t, but this sergeant, he waited until everyone had moved outside then warned us. He said that the security perimeter was shrinking by the day. The infected were close to breaking through, and that there was no plan to evacuate anyone, not even the military. He said we would be better off getting closer to the city center if we could. That’s why we came here.”
“Was it that easy? Just get in the car and drive away?” Gyles asked with his brow raised.
Lawson shrugged. “Mostly, but I knew we had to move. It just felt right, I guess. Most places inside the perimeter were already a ghost town. All the activity and fighting was out on the edges. People in the city had their doors locked and windows boarded up. With the food drops, there was no reason to go outside. I already had the truck in the garage, so we just loaded it.
“Then just before noon, on I think it was the fifth day, we rolled out. The wife had heard that some of the other fellas from the VFW were holing up at the church so that’s what we did. It’s always comfortable being around folks you’re familiar with.”
“That’s when you ran into Sherman?” Gyles asked.
Taking another sip from the flask, he exhaled and nodded. “Yes sir. Zeke and Sherman were already here with their families and some of the other boys. Sherman told us how he’d found the church overrun and Andre barricaded downstairs. They did some serious room clearing to get them all out. Zeke was a tunnel rat in Nam though. I’m sure he made easy work of clearing the basement. And that old fella, Sherman, don’t look like much, but you’d want no better friend in a fight.”
Gyles nodded his head. The flask was offered, and he accepted it. “I still don’t understand why you all stayed. If the place was overrun and the city falling, why didn’t you all just bail with the Guard soldiers, go to the FEMA camps with the rest of them?”
Laughing, Lawson said, “Place wasn’t truly overrun. Before Sherman got here, Andre was letting any scratched or infected person through them doors. He had the place opened to everyone. No security, every door unlocked. After Sherman got here and cleared it out, he made this place a fortress. We were feeling pretty good about it, especially with the Guard making regular supply runs and keeping the infected blocked up at the railroad crossing.”
Gyles thought about the answer, and it seemed reasonable, considering these folks were no worse off than his own men at Camp Alamo. They had secure walls and food, same as they did. At least until the infected showed up, and then he knew how it would end.
He stopped thinking and looked seriously at the old man. “Listen, Lawson, I don’t know what experience you have with these things, but when they mass up like they are doing right now, they’ll come at these walls hard. They’ll pile up until they spill right on top of you, then they’ll breach every locked door you have and kill every man, woman, and child hiding inside.”
“You sound like you’re speaking from experience, son,” Lawson said, taking the flask back.
Gyles pursed his lips. He looked down at his boots and sighed. “I tried to hold off with a group, not much unlike this one. We we
re locked in tight, had high fencing, armored vehicles, and a platoon of heavily armed men.”
“Don’t sound too bad.”
“We lasted less than an hour once they hit the walls in force,” Gyles said, looking away. “The fences fell like they were made of foil. I won’t go through that again. The only way to survive the hordes is to stay ahead of them. I’m giving you all an option. In the morning, we’re leaving. You all can come with us or stay here to die.”
“We don’t have any vehicles. How the hell are we supposed to get out? You going to strap all those people to the roof of your vehicle?”
Gyles shook his head. “We’ll have to figure something out. We can’t stay.”
“So, you’re just going to leave and go out there with the street full of demons. You think nothing’s going to happen?” Lawson protested. “How do you expect to get out without them getting in?”
Gyles shook his head. “Let me worry about that. My people are fine with fighting them on the streets, but I won’t die a caged rat. And I won’t ask my men to do that again.” He stopped and looked back down at the mob in the street. “If it comes to it, we’ll go out and make a hell of a lot of noise and clear a path for you.”
Lawson shook his head again. “I’m really not sure how many ways I can break this down for you. We don’t have vehicles. We’re stuck here, son.”
“And I have to make sure you understand. If we stay, we die,” Gyles said, his eyes still on the mob below.
He swept his head along the wall and could see that the infected now had them surrounded. The streets to the north, east, and west were all full. The only exception was a small stretch of alley behind the garage buildings in the back. He pointed down at the street below them and clenched his jaw, trying to hold back his anger.
“It might be too late, anyway. As soon as the sun goes down, they are going to hit us. By morning, that inner yard will have as many in it as there are outside. If we’re lucky, they won’t break through—but most likely, they will. They will corner everyone. I’m talking literal corners as they rip children from mothers’ arms. Then there will be nothing left but individual survival.”
